Terror in the Holy Land: Inside the Anguish of the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict (Contemporary Psychology)

Terror in the Holy Land: Inside the Anguish of the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict

Edited by Judy Kuriansky

PRAEGER

Terror in the Holy Land

Recent Titles in Contemporary Psychology Resilience for Today: Gaining Strength from Adversity Edith Henderson Grotberg, editor The Destructive Power of Religion: Violence in Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, Volumes I–IV J. Harold Ellens, editor Helping Children Cope with the Death of a Parent: A Guide for the First Year Paddy Greenwall Lewis and Jessica G. Lippman Martyrdom: The Psychology, Theology, and Politics of Self-Sacrifice Rona M. Fields, with Contributions from Cóilín Owens, Valérie Rosoux, Michael Berenbaum, and Reuven Firestone Redressing the Emperor: Improving Our Children’s Public Mental Health System John S. Lyons Havens: Stories of True Community Healing Leonard Jason and Martin Perdoux Psychology of Terrorism, Condensed Edition: Coping with the Continuing Threat Chris E. Stout, editor Handbook of International Disaster Psychology, Volumes I–IV Gilbert Reyes and Gerard A. Jacobs, editors The Psychology of Resolving Global Conflicts: From War to Peace, Volumes 1–3 Mari Fitzduff and Chris E. Stout, editors The Myth of Depression as Disease: Limitations and Alternatives to Drug Treatment Allan M. Leventhal and Christopher R. Martell Preventing Teen Violence: A Guide for Parents and Professionals Sherri N. McCarthy and Claudio Simon Hutz Making Enemies Unwittingly: Humiliation and International Conflict Evelin Gerda Lindner Collateral Damage: How the U.S. War on Terrorism Is Harming American Mental Health Paul R. Kimmel and Chris E. Stout, editors

Terror in the Holy Land Inside the Anguish of the Israeli-Palestinian Conf lict Edited by Judy Kuriansky

Contemporary Psychology Chris E. Stout, Series Editor

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Terror in the Holy Land : inside the anguish of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict / edited by Judy Kuriansky.     p. cm. — (Contemporary psychology, ISSN 1546–668X)   Includes bibliographical references and index.   ISBN 0–275–99041–9 (alk. paper) 1.  Arab-Israeli conflict—Psychological aspects.  2.  Terrorism—Psychological aspects.  I.  Kuriansky, Judith.   DS119.76.T453  2006   956.9405'4—dc22    2006025245 British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data is available. Copyright © 2006 by Judy Kuriansky All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, by any process or technique, without the express written consent of the publisher. Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 2006025245 ISBN: 0–275–99041–9 ISSN: 1546–668X First published in 2006 Praeger Publishers, 88 Post Road West, Westport, CT 06881 An imprint of Greenwood Publishing Group, Inc. www.praeger.com Printed in the United States of America

The paper used in this book complies with the Permanent Paper Standard issued by the National Information Standards Organization (Z39.48–1984). 10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1

Contents Foreword by Chris E. Stout

ix

Acknowledgments

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Introduction by Judy Kuriansky

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part i  Times of Terror: Anguish on Both Sides

1

chapter 1 Homeland, Helplessness, Hate, and Heroes: Psychosocial Dynamics in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict Julia DiGangi

3

chapter 2 Girls Interrupted: The Making of Female Palestinian Suicide Bombers Katherine VanderKaay

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chapter 3 Coming of Age in Times of Terrorism Barbara Sofer

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chapter 4 Raised for Jihad: A Shahid’s Daughter Speaks Out Nonie Darwish

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chapter 5 The Mental Health Situation for Palestinians Abdel hamid Afana

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chapter 6 Coping with Terror: Lessons from Israel Danny Brom

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chapter 7 A Bomb on the Bus Yonah Dovid Bardos

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chapter 8 Cries for Help: A Palestinian Social Worker’s Story Nahida AlArja

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chapter 9 Lost Paradise: Trauma and Martyrdom in Palestinian Families 59 Elia Awwad chapter 10 Terror in Jerusalem: Israelis Coping with “Emergency Routine” in Daily Life Ruth Pat-Horenczyk

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chapter 11 The Impact of Israel’s Separation Wall on Palestinian Mental Health Nisreen Boushieh

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chapter 12 Israelis and Palestinians Speak Out about Violence and Peace: Public Opinion Polls, 2000–2006 Vani Murugesan

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chapter 13 Terror at Home and Abroad: Israeli Reactions to International Incidents of Violence Judy Kuriansky, Lisa Bagenstose, Michele Hirsch, Abraham A. Burstein, and Yahel Tsaidi

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PART II  Psychosocial Issues in the Conflict

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chapter 14 Humiliation or Dignity in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict Evelin Gerda Lindner, Neil Ryan Walsh, and Judy Kuriansky

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chapter 15 Breaking the Cycle of Revenge in the Palestinian-Israeli Conflict Gary Reiss

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chapter 16 Obstacles to Asymmetry: Personal and Professional Lessons in Israeli-Palestinian Crisis and Reconciliation Isaac Mendelsohn

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chapter 17 Collective Identity Terror in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict and Potential Solutions Ibrahim Kira

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chapter 18 In Search of My Identity: The Value of Humor about the Arab-Israeli Conflict Ray Hanania

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chapter 19 Caught in the Middle: Identity Conflicts of Arab Adolescents in Israel Salman Elbedour, Anthony J. Onwuegbuzie, Aref Abu-Rabia, Persephone Brown, and Qun G. Jiao

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part III  Women and Children Caught in the Conflict 141 chapter 20 Anguish of Israeli Women against the Backdrop of the Intifada Joyce Rosman Brenner

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chapter 21 The Effect of Conflict and Militarization on Palestinian Women Amal Abusrour

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chapter 22 The Emotional Impact of the Intifada on Palestinian Youth: Implications for Finding the Path to Peace Jeff Victoroff

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chapter 23 Feeling Safe: An Israeli Intervention Program for Helping Children Cope with Exposure to Political Violence and Terrorism Michelle Slone and Anat Shoshani chapter 24 Dealing with Demonization of the “Other” in the Middle East by Metaphoric Tools to Transform Foe to Friend Ofra Ayalon part IV Therapeutic and Educational Efforts for Understanding, Coping, and Reconciliation chapter 25 Awaiting the Wounded: A Doctor’s Story Avraham Rivkin

173

183

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chapter 26 Challenges of a Young Palestinian Clinician during the Second Intifada Roney Srour

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chapter 27 Healing the Wounds of War in Gaza and Israel: A Mind-Body Approach James S. Gordon

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chapter 28 Inshallah, Family, Gender Roles, and Other Issues Affecting Mental Health and Therapy for Palestinian Arab Israelis Alean Al-Krenawi and John R. Graham chapter 29 Ordinary Madness of the Palestinian-Israeli Conflict Jerry T. Lawler chapter 30 Making Paper Flowers Bloom: Coping Strategies to Survive the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict Judy Kuriansky

217 229

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chapter 31 Weathering the “Perfect Storm”: Moving beyond Intractability of the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict Heidi Burgess and Guy Burgess

249

Afterword

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Index

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About the Series Editor and Advisory Board

269

About the Editor

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About the Contributors

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Foreword What a high-water mark this volume is. Dr. Kuriansky has been able to do what no one else ever has—initiate a dialogue on issues that have been seen as so intractable as to just be short of impossibly irreconcilable. Not only does this work demonstrate that such a dialog can happen, it also offers much in the way of tools, methods, and examples, not hyperbole. Dr. Kuriansky has been able to create a book that demonstrates a heterogeneous yet synthetic approach to creating a powerful amalgam of human experience and activistic responses, with interesting and promising interventions. It is no easy task for even the most heroic of books to successfully blend clinical, cultural, historical, anthropological, and political aspects together so well. As a result, the book defies categorization, as it is a unique blend of personal essays, reviews, research, clinical facets, and philosophical perspectives, all woven together with the unifying thread of the conflict. As a warning, some chapters are painful to read due to the horrible events unflinchingly described. But such are the sober realities that this book addresses. In reviewing the manuscript, I was struck by one theme in particular. As one writer put it, “one of the most fundamental aspects of conflict [is] the human factor.” This resonated with me as being so synchronous to my work with Mari Fitzduff, in The Psychology of Resolving Global Conflicts (3 volumes, Praeger, 2006). There is powerful causal valence to social identity theory in conflicts. I could not agree more with the point that “while military might, economic power, and political policies can be gauged with a relative degree of certainty, the perceptions, attitudes, and emotions that speak to the very nature and complexity of the human condition are ambiguous and difficult to quantify.”



Foreword

Issues of the “other” identity, and self-esteem schemata of the self and others, are well addressed herein and precisely on target. As pointed out, “Prejudice allows people to remain alienated from their targets, while cognitive dissonance allows people to alter or distort reality to fit with pre-existing notions when they are confronted with facts that are consistent with these pre-existing beliefs.” The issue is right on target and communicated with laserlike sharpness and clarity. Finally, I also want to highlight the point in another chapter, noting that although mental health professionals tend to have strong associations at the grassroots levels while also being appreciated by political, religious, and military leaders, there is nevertheless an unfortunate circumstance that “the peace process neglects the peace-building efforts by other health professionals that could complement formal negotiations by building what is known as ‘bottom up’ support.” I have frequently noted that the connection between health and violence is strong and a reciprocally causal ingredient in conflict situations; however, this work brings fresh light to the point. This book is engaging at many levels. Perhaps a phrase from the text says best what I believe Dr. Kuriansky has been able to accomplish through this book; it expands views and offers “constructive communication and collaboration.” As a result, I believe she has succeeded in what is most important: She has increased hope. Chris E. Stout Series Editor, Contemporary Psychology

Acknowledgments This project reflects the good energy of many friends, colleagues, health professional, and Middle East experts, as well as my students, who all supported its intention and realization. I am moved to note those who were there at the very beginning, including Laurie Better, Sharon Peled, and Vani Murugusan for starting valuable connections, and Chris Belz for developing a great plan to organize so much information. I am continually impressed and appreciative when I think of how Joshua Cohen met authors in Israel for me and how Neil Walsh picked up in a day to fly to the World Congress of Psychiatry in Cairo for me since I had just come back from Egypt from the World Federation of Mental Health meetings and had to be in New York to moderate a panel on collective security at the United Nations NGO Conference. I thank them both, too, for their wonderful ideas and constant support from day one onward. I am deeply appreciative of all the endless hours of tireless work, day and night, weeks on end, that Tali Elisha spent with me along with her total commitment, spirit, and enthusiasm. I am also deeply grateful and indebted to my dear friend Teri Whitcraft, a brilliant writer and a producer from ABC-TV News Law and Justice Unit, for sharing enthusiasm about the importance of this project and devoting endless hours reviewing manuscripts and giving valuable comments on the broad vision as well as on every detail that made everything fit so perfectly. It has always been my dream to work with her and this was a dream fulfilled. How fortunate, too, to have spent so many wonderful sessions going over big ideas about psychology and the world situation with one of my prized students, Ben Adams from Columbia University Teachers College. I also greatly thank Rachel Brandenburg from Tufts University and Mona Amer from the Program on Recovery and Community Health in the Department of Psychiatry at Yale University School of Medicine for championing this project.

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Helpful, too, from the beginning were Ghassan Fawzi and Salman Elbadour, Camilla Hsiung and Robert Seibel; helpful every step of the way was Neal Walsh; and at the end, Malyna Kettavong from my alma mater Smith College who helped devotedly with last minute details until all hours of the night. I am most fortunate, too, for the unfailing support of my editor at Praeger Publishers, Debra Carvalko, who supported this project throughout and showed her usual excellent judgment and impressive mix of kindness and professionalism. I am also grateful to many people at Praeger who participated in this project, who appreciated its significance, and who lent their care and hard work. Special love and appreciation to my “daughter” Alissa Pollack and my mom Sylvia for their devotion, unconditional love, good advice, and endless hours of encouragement and listening, and to my husband Edward for his always consummate good judgment. Deep gratitude also goes to all the authors in this volume who contributed their expertise and professionalism in these chapters and shared their personal experiences and inspiring vision. It has been professionally stimulating and personally a joy to work with each one, and thrilling to see all their work collected together. Finally, heartfelt appreciation goes to all the people in the region and throughout the world who are working toward—and deserve—trust, understanding, acceptance, and peace.

Introduction The first time I set foot in the Holy Land was on my honeymoon to Greece and Israel. Two years after the 1967 war, the situation was certainly more peaceful. But three years later, in 1972, we arrived in Munich for the Olympic Games to find a throng of people gathered in the main square, not celebrating, but dazed over the massacre of the Israeli athletes. It was a shocking close-up introduction to the conflict addressed in this book. Over the past few years, I have made many trips to parts of Israel and the Palestinian Territories, including East Jerusalem and Ramallah, meeting with colleagues, on missions visiting survivors of violence, and even buying souvenirs in Arab and Jewish markets to learn as much as possible from all perspectives. A defining experience leading to the birth of this book was attending the conference of the World Congress of Psychotherapy in Vienna in 2002. There I talked with Israeli and Gazan mental health professionals, and participated in workshops and presentations about the suffering on both sides and the psychological issues underlying the conflict. As a group of us sat at a table in the hall after one of the sessions, I proposed that we pool our experience and expertise to contribute to peace in the region through psychological understanding. In a gesture that remains etched in my brain, we joined hands and raised our arms in the air to mark our intention. As I began this project, I noted that although there have been workshops, journal papers, and scholarly monographs on the psychosocial issues related to the Israeli-Palestinian crisis, no one book brought together contemporary thinking on this important topic. My own commitment to peace had actually started decades before, as my mother reminds me. When just eight years old and asked the typical question,

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“What do you want to do when you grow up?” I answered, “I want to do something for world peace.” The Korean War was over; who could have guessed that years later would follow the Vietnam War, the Iraq War, and the Intifadas. Now as an adult, I have devoted my life to realizing that eight-year-old’s dream. It has motivated and defined my work over decades as a psychologist helping people find peace within themselves and in their relationships. It guided me through years of giving advice on radio and TV and in newspapers and magazines, doing disaster relief around the world, and giving workshops on easternwestern techniques for inner and outer peace from South America to India, Israel, Belgrade, Sri Lanka, Dubai, and Iran. This book is a collection of reflections and research from professionals in mental health and related disciplines whose cultures are locked in conflict but who are equally devoted to salving the pain of those suffering in the region and finding solutions to the conflict. I am deeply proud of all their efforts, intelligence, and contributions. The chapters represent various themes: psychological dynamics related to the conflict (e.g., the search for identity, the role of revenge and humiliation); the specific suffering of men, women, children, and families; the impact of militarization on the psyche of people; and innovative coping techniques and therapeutic efforts to help Israelis and Palestinians. Some papers include data from studies and surveys; others relate personal experiences (such as from one of my students who called me, terrified, on the night he was present at a bus bombing). The range of approaches is also unique, including an analysis of family issues through the lens of a documentary, diary entries of a professional who developed a unique mind-body approach to healing, and samples of his routines from a comic seeking to find his identity. All these contributions are powerfully moving, as well as provide unique insights into the issues driving the conflict. This volume is divided into four parts. Part I, “Times of Terror,” presents a context for the conflict between Jewish Israelis and Palestinians today, and explains the anguish faced by people in both societies. In these chapters we learn about female martyrs, the impace of suicide bombings, and coping with a situation that can be called emergency routine—where terrorism can erupt unpredictably at any moment. Part II, “Psychosocial Issues in the Conflict,” addresses key psychosocial issues that underlie the conflict (including revenge, humiliation, imbalance of power, and the search for identity in groups within both societies) as well as some strategies to prevent these factors from interfering with reconciliation. Part III, “Women and Children Caught in the Conflict,” explores the problems of these populations particularly at risk in the conflict in both societies and presents fascinating and important techniques and programs to reduce their suffering. Part IV, “Therapeutic and Educational Efforts for Understanding, Coping, and Reconciliation,” presents captivating insights of educators and conselors in addressing problems in both societies through approaches and coping strategies that are both culture-specific and cross-cultural. The final chapter describes various methods to facilitate emergence from the conflict, presaging an impressive collection of reconciliation efforts between the societies that are ad-



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dressed in a companion volume I have edited about grassroots healing and peacebuilding projects between Israelis and Palestinians—from dialogue groups to activites like cooking, camping, and mountain climbing. A concerted effort was made to represent different perspectives on the issue and to include, with respect, many points of view. Of course, there are always more perspectives because every issue can be examined through multiple lenses. Hence I invite submissions for a future edition as the issues here are intended to stimulate constructive dialogue between all interested and involved parties. Working on this book has expanded my own views on the topic as well as my acceptance of different points of view, listening skills, constructive communication, and enthusiasm for collaboration. Working with the authors has also increased my hope about building bridges between the peoples of the region in conflict. Opportunities for exchange, cooperation, sharing, and dialoguing are extensive and inspiring. People are participating in the interchange for peace from widespread corners around the world, revealing an international community of psychosocial experts who care about what is going on in the region and who are devoting their brilliance and energy to understanding the conflict and doing something to help resolve it. I honor the courage of those who contributed their energy, hard work, and truth to this volume as many contributors interwove their own personal experiences into accounts of their professional work. All the contributions convey a spirit of desire for transformation in the region to allow for peace. Sadly, I recognize that fear is still a deterrent. When fear grips people’s emotions and actions, it leads to acquiescence and withdrawal at one extreme, or aggression at the other, neither of which is constructive. Fear can even suffocate professional efforts, as was sadly evident when one of the contributors withdrew his paper out of fear of repercussions from others’ disapproval. This fear must be replaced with truth and trust. Of course, many factors play a part in the Jewish-Arab tensions and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict—just as in any dispute. Politics and cultural factors play a major role in the conflict, but consideration of the psychological issues is essential to a multidimensional view of the conflict and adds a piece to the peace puzzle. It is my hope that people of all ages, countries, and cultures read this book and that academics, politicians, philanthropists, and the public consider the psychosocial issues presented here and feel motivated and inspired to participate in practical and helpful interventions. Psychosocial perspectives can offer insight not only into the specific conflict addressed here but also serve as a metaphor for all conflicts, transforming conflict into cooperation, hate into empathy and acceptance, and aggression into peace. In the process of taking that point of view while putting this volume together, I hold even dearer that we can create a better world for all eight-yearolds with a dream. —Judy Kuriansky

“The psychological costs of the Middle East conflict have for too long been left out of the discussion. While we can count the number of casualties and the financial costs of a war, it is much harder to evaluate the toll it takes on the human psyche, relationships, identity, and family life. Dr. Judy wakes us up to these realities. Terror in the Holy Land is a much needed perspective of the psycho-social dimensions of chronic conflict. This is an important book that should be required reading for anyone interested in conflict resolution, international relations, and the psychosocial dimensions of war.” Julie Diamond, Ph.D. Academic Director M.A. in Conflict Facilitation and Organizational Change, Process Work Institute Graduate School, Portland “An educational, illuminating and moving book about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict with a unique and effective delivery. Dr. Kuriansky has done a brilliant job bringing together compositions presenting a new ‘look’ at the conflict with a clarity rarely encountered in other books.” Robert Seibel Attorney Researcher on Middle East and International Affairs “An extremely valuable volume that illuminates the many facets of terrorism as it manifests itself in one of its most prominent foci; the Israeli Palestinian conflict.” Arie W. Kruglanski, Ph.D. Distinguished Professor of Psychology Co-Director, National Center for the Study of Terrorism and the Response to Terrorism, University of Maryland “A comprehensive piercing read that shows how inextricably linked the Palestinians and Israelis are. May their common experience of agony and loss bring about their common goal of peace in our time.” Tovah Feldshuh Award-winning Broadway actress and star of Golda’s Balcony “Tremendous food-for-thought for those hungry to understand the psycho-social dimensions of both suicide terrorists and their victims.” Robert Pape, Ph.D. Professor of Political Science, University of Chicago Author, Dying to Win: The Strategic Logic of Suicide Terrorism “Judging from the stories told here, neither side has a monopoly on righteousness and both sides have a role in causing anguish felt by citizens of Israel and Palestine. However, as sections of the volume show, a significant bloc of Israelis and Palestinians have been working—many heroically—toward peace and toward healing the deep divides, misperceptions and mistrust that plague the Middle East. One can take heart in the stories of anguish overcome, and of mental health workers promoting health, cooperation, and mutual understanding. Kuriansky and her colleagues tell us of the promise for the future of a peaceful Middle East—sooner, we hope, rather than later.” Richard V. Wagner, Ph.D. Professor Emeritus of Psychology, Bates College Editor, Peace and Conflict: Journal of Peace Psychology

part i

Times of Terror: Anguish on Both Sides

This first part gives a context for the current conflict between Israelis and Palestinians. The first chapter reviews some key psychosocial issues behind the conflict that highlight the struggle for identity in both societies, including the search for a homeland, heroes, and hope. Other chapters present key mental health issues faced by individuals and the collective groups in both societies, including coping with a situation that can be called “emergency routine”—where terrorism can erupt unpredictably at any moment. Some insight into martyrdom, or suicide bombers, is presented in these chapters in the profiles of females who are recruited for the cause and the impact of these women’s actions on individuals and broader society. The chapters represent different perspectives on the situation: some present a clearly stated point of view, others are neutral or objective. Approaches range from a review of the mental health situation and research studies, to the use of a documentary film to describe a family’s experience, to personal accounts of professionals in the region. In some cases, personal accounts are coupled with a more scientific presentation.

chapter

1

Homeland, Helplessness, Hate, and Heroes: Psychosocial Dynamics in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict Julia DiGangi

For the incalculable number of words that have been written and uttered about the political, economic, or religious tensions between Israelis and Palestinians, little attention has been paid to one of the most fundamental aspects of the conflict: the human factor. Although military might, economic power, and political policies can be gauged with a relative degree of certainty, the perceptions, attitudes, and emotions that speak to the very nature and complexity of the human condition are ambiguous and difficult to quantify. Yet it is this very combination of human emotion and thought that has created this lethal mix of attitude and behavior in the Middle East. The number of failed peace processes attests to the need for a fuller and, thus, more effective approach to conflict resolution. As important as land is in the Middle East, it is not the only factor at the heart of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. If it were, then the Oslo Accord should have secured peace. It has been postulated that if the Israelis were to significantly withdraw from the settlements then peace might be achieved. Recent events have debunked this thinking, however, proving that the conflict is not simply about the result but about the holistic process. Because the aim of psychology and sociology is to examine human attitudes and behaviors, their serious application to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is long overdue. Normalization of relations remains impossible until the endemic culture of hatred is eradicated. No threat of military retaliation, no number of suicide bombings, no promises of aid or international interventions will successfully end the conflict until the underlying and chronic psychological dynamics are addressed—dynamics like hate, helplessness, the importance of homeland, and the need for identity that are examined in this paper.1



Terror in the Holy Land

Identity Crisis: The Middle East Searches for Itself Although the battles over resources and politics exacerbate the situation, on the deepest psychosocial level the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is a struggle for existence and identity. Both the Israelis’ and Palestinians’ perception that the other side is attacking their core identity creates a host of other psychosocial problems, including insecurity, anxiety and hostility. These conditions inhibit the establishment of an empathic response, by preventing each side from seeing the other’s point of view and ultimately resolving the conflict. The conflict is dominated by a multivictim dynamic in which each side perceives the other as the direct source of its insecurity. When one side acts to protect itself, it provokes the other to retaliate, thereby unleashing a vicious cycle of violence that leaves little room for empathy and, thus, reconciliation. As long as these fundamental issues remain unsolved, they will be the ultimate obstacles to lasting peace in the region. Identity is at the psychological core of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. In this situation, there is the perception of a zero-sum game whereby the very recognition of other is a denial of self (Kelman, 1999). The national existence and identity of Israel is predicated on the nonexistence of Palestine and vice versa. The long tradition of mutual disrespect and negative interdependence is reflected in statements like those of Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir in 1970 that “There is no such thing as Palestinians” (Rowland & Frank, 2002) and former PLO Chairman Yasir Arafat’s equally inflammatory comment that “The most important thing is to confront this demon that swallows up everything, including the peace process” (Greenberg, 1996). Identity—personal, communal, and national—is critical to the human experience because it can provide (1) structure for understanding who one is; (2) meaning and direction through commitments, values and goals, and consistency; (3) a sense of personal control and free will; (4) consistency, coherence, and harmony between values, beliefs, and commitments; and (5) the ability to recognize potential in the form of future possibilities and alternative choices (Adams & Marshall, 1996). In addition to the fulfillment of personal purpose, identity provides a sense of belonging to a collective (i.e., kinship) through group association. According to social identity theory, part of an individual’s self-concept is understood through group membership (Reynolds, Turner, Haslam, & Ryan, 2001). Studies show that group membership and social connectedness is negatively correlated with anxiety levels and positively correlated with self-esteem. As the need for self-esteem is a prime motivator of both individual action and group behavior, it motivates group members to categorize themselves into ingroups while negatively evaluating out-groups (Kreidie & Monroe, 2002; Oakes & Turner, 1980; Tajfel & Turner, 1979). Similar research illustrates the powerful impact people’s social identities have on perceptions, emotions, and behavior, as evidenced by sports team members who take personal responsibility for team loss, research participants who stick with an unsuccessful group even when given an opportunity to leave, or activists who jeopardize their personal well-being for causes or principles (Drury & Reicher, 2000; Ellemers, Spears, & Doosje, 1997; Taylor & Doria, 1981). Such observations are compatible with the notion that



Homeland, Helplessness, Hate, and Heroes



people’s collective selves and social identities affect their perceptual, affective, and behavioral responses in critical ways. This dynamic is operational in the case of the Israelis and Palestinians in which, driven by a need for positive self-identification and kinship, Palestinians and Israelis develop schemata of the self and other, with the self as the in-group and the other as the out-group. As social psychologist Herbert Kelman writes in reference to the PalestinianIsraeli conflict, “As long as the other’s identity is seen as a threat to one’s own identity and must therefore be rejected, there is no space for developing a transcendent identity shared with the other. Each group’s success in identity building depends on the other’s failure in that task” (Kelman, 1999, p. 588). That both parties have come to define themselves as the antithesis of the other is further evident in the fact that positive symbols for one side (e.g., the PLO for Palestinians and Zionism for Israelis) are perceived as threats to the very existence of the other (Kelman, 1999). Because the human instinct strives for survival and selfpreservation, if one side admits that the other has some degree of legitimacy behind its position it calls into question the identity and behavior the other side has embraced for years. Ironically, each side withholds full recognition of the other as a means of self-protection, yet it is exactly the preclusion of legitimacy that prevents the establishment of empathy and full reconciliation. Without the ability to empathize with the other’s positions, it will be nearly impossible for the current cycle to be broken. For example, if Palestinian suicide bombers could genuinely relate to the sorrow and insecurity their actions cause for the Israeli people or if the Israeli government could understand the hardship that the Israeli-constructed barricade is presenting for Palestinian communities, then it could be highly unlikely that these actions would continue. How, then, is each side able to maintain the denial of empathy to the other? The answer relates to prejudice and a psychological concept known as cognitive dissonance, which explains how the mind copes with confusion or incongruent facts. Prejudice allows people to remain alienated from their targets (Stephan & Finlay, 1999), whereas cognitive dissonance allows people to alter or distort reality to fit with preexisting notions when they are confronted with facts that are inconsistent with these preexisting beliefs (Harmon-Jones & Mills, 1999). For example, if Palestinians were to admit that Israel has a right to exist and if Israelis admit that Palestinians have been unjustly treated, these admissions would be the beginning of an empathetic response and, thus, incompatible with current attitudes and behavior. The psychological literature empirically demonstrates that empathy is related to a prosocial response and that without its establishment cognitive dissonance and prejudices will remain unmoved (Stephan & Finlay, 1999).

Good Friends and Better Enemies According to social identity theory, feelings of allegiance are particularly heightened in the face of a perceived threat. To apply Newton’s law to the psychology of conflict—that for every reaction there is an equal and opposite reaction—then in order for someone to be for something, he must also be against



Terror in the Holy Land

another: black versus white, Republican versus Democrat, Hutu versus Tutsi, Yankee versus Dodger, Israeli versus Palestinian. As aggression, fighting, and defining the self in contrast to another are built into the human behavioral repertoire, having enemies is an integral part of the human condition (Barash, 1994), such that Israelis have become enemies of the Palestinians and vice versa. Although there is considerable factionalization in both Israeli and Palestinian society, each side’s grievances against the other outweigh whatever internal discord exists within their individual societies. Greater than the sum of their internal divisions is a collective position against the “other.” Although one might be religious or secular, Labor or Likud, the sense of being a Jew exists at the most fundamental level. For example, in the face of a severe threat—perceived or real—that Palestinians are out to extinguish them because of their most basic identity trait (i.e., Jewishness), a fundamental survival mechanism would be triggered, rallying otherwise dissident groups against a common enemy to preserve their individual and collective identity. According to the social identity theory, antagonism—real or perceived—raises levels of solidarity (Feshbach, 1990). In the face of a group-directed threat, a collective need to fight is generated to avoid being lulled into complacency and extinction. This phenomenon exists on both a macro, societal level and on a micro, individual level.

Leaders as Heroes or Villains Psychological dynamics and personal history shape leaders’ cognitions and actions as they do any individual. These must be understood to comprehend the leaders’ role in a national conflict. Leaders become psychological beacons for their people, a touchstone for identity wherein the individual’s beliefs about the leader become a way to define the self (Kark & Shamir, 2002). Particularly in times of social uncertainty, leaders are often raised to the status of hero by some members of the group. In this vein, the antagonistic relationship between the long-lived leadership of Palestinian PLO leader Yasir Arafat and Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon served as a microcosm of the national conflict and fueled the animosity between the Israeli and Palestinian populations. With one symbolizing Jewish nationalism and the other Palestinian nationalism, each has become the embodiment of what the other fears and denies. Sharon and Arafat became the international faces of the conflict and their culture for decades, largely through vilifying each other. Sharon repeatedly claimed that Arafat was not a legitimate negotiating partner because he legitimized terrorism (Marshall, 2005), whereas Arafat has blamed Sharon for the continued violence in the region (Associated Press, 2002). Though they have become intense enemies, each man ultimately ends up helping the other’s cause. One becomes the symbol that the other uses to advance his position. When Arafat died and Sharon fell into a coma, the political landscape greatly shifted, leaving their respective people without immediate symbols of competing warriors. In the midst of chaos, it is common that individuals gravitate toward a



Homeland, Helplessness, Hate, and Heroes



force of power to restore a sense of security and competence (Volkan, 2004). The Palestinian political scene in January 2006 can serve as an example when the Palestinian people overwhelmingly elected Hamas, an Islamic group that has historically called for the destruction of Israel. In the wake of Arafat’s death and in the midst of an uncertain political scene, it has been surmised that, in part, some Palestinians sought to galvanize a sense of power by asserting a cultural identity and electing an organization that have been historically anti-Israeli.

 eroes or Hatred: The Role of Myth in Understanding Collective H Identity Identity permeates all facets of the human existence. In addition to being present in our relationship with our self and others, identity plays a powerful role in our histories. History often gives rise to myths about a people and their culture. These myths are not necessarily false; instead a myth is defined in Webster’s Dictionary as “a usually traditional story of ostensibly historical events that serves to unfold part of the world view of a people or explain a practice, belief, or natural phenomenon.” As such, a myth serves to answer basic questions about human existence,2 tell “true” stories about how things were or should have been, and anchor the very identity of that individual or group (Rowland & Frank, 2002). Because reality is only as useful as it is subjectively interpreted, the interplay between historical fact and myth is necessary to understand the current situation in the Middle East. Psychologists, sociologists, and anthropologists have long studied identity in the “framework of a subjective realm, where belonging to an imagined community is constantly reproduced through invested traditions, commemorations and construction of national museums, and the creation of national cultural canons and national heroes” (Sa’di, 2002, p. 176). As is demonstrated in the next two sections, the identity of Israelis and Palestinians is partly defined by subjective interpretations of events, which have led to the construction of national myths as a means to understand their own existence, both past and present.

Myth and Martyrdom in the Jewish State: Defining the Jewish Identity Historically, Jews have been among the world’s most persecuted people. As a result of their persecution, their history has been dominated by a quest for a safe haven. This quest has created a national identity that is one part hero, one part victim. Beginning with the Babylonian exile and culminating in the Nazi Holocaust, the Jewish story is one that is permeated by insecurity and the subsequent quest for a safe haven. For more than two millennia, Jews have been expelled from, and persecuted in, numerous countries throughout Europe—a cumulative experience that has had a profound impact on the development of the Jewish psyche. The extermination of six million Jews in the Holocaust—meaning “catastrophe”—continues to be experienced as a collective tragedy and victimization, not just because of the murders but because of the ideological underpinnings of



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the extermination; nonrecognition continues to be a source of Jewish angst and fear. During World War II, the plight of the Jewish people was largely ignored by the international community. A present-day example of the role of myth in the psyche of some Israelis occurred in July 2005 when Jewish settlers in the Gaza Strip and areas of the West Bank were forced to relocate. For days, news images showed Jewish settlers angrily protesting the resettlement policy and, later, furiously fighting removal from their homes. Although many people view moving as an undesirable event, few see relocation as an ideological crisis (Mnookin, 2005). Many of the settlers believed in their biblical right to the land and, as a result, lived in some of the most dangerous areas of Israel for many years. This land had been their narrative, the way they understood their identity and brought meaning to their lives. Suddenly, the old paradigm was shattered when they were forced to relocate by the Israeli government. Many of these individuals believe that their sense of community and self was destroyed by a simple policy mandate to move. Without the land, these individuals lost a big part of their identity and, thus, came under great psychological distress. Another example that contributes to the Israeli self-image as a persecuted people comes from their treatment by Arab states. The present-day refusal of Arab states to recognize Israel triggers deep wounds in the Jewish psyche and reinforces their belief that they continue to be a nation living under the constant threat of annihilation. Take, for example, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad’s October 2005 statement, “As [Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini] said, Israel must be wiped off the map” (Profile: Mahmoud Abbas, n.d.). Statements as bold as these reinforce the perspective that Israel is an island surrounded by a sea of hostile neighbors. Thus, Israel’s insistence on full recognition from Arab states can be seen as an attempt to secure legitimacy and to guarantee survival. To some Israelis, the events of July and October 2005 reinforce a history 2,500 years in the making. Similar to their ancestors in Babylon, these Jews were again being forced from their homes. Having persevered through thousands of years of oppression, some Israelis continue to interpret present-day events through this perspective.

When Shame Swells: Understanding the Palestinian Identity My homeland is a suitcase. And my suitcase is a homeland. —Mahmoud Darwish, national poet of Palestine

Similar to the national narrative of the Israelis, the Palestinian story is permeated with loss. In 1948, when the Jews celebrated the creation of the state of Israel, the Palestinians despaired over what they termed Al-Nakbah, meaning “the immense catastrophe.”3 Between 77 percent and 83 percent of the Palestinians who lived in what had become Israel became refugees. The names of familiar streets, places, and cities changed from Arabic to Hebrew. Land, which for centuries had been considered by Palestinians to be a source of pride, was transferred



Homeland, Helplessness, Hate, and Heroes



to Jewish ownership and use (Sa’di, 2002). As 1948 is symbolically remembered as the year of Israel’s birth, it is also the year of Palestine’s death. The psychological trauma of sustained homelessness is profound. During the years immediately following Al-Nakbah, Palestinians reportedly suffered from existential anxiety, insecurity, panic, feelings of insecurity about their immediate future, and uncertainty about the whereabouts of relatives and other loved ones (Preidt, 2002). These conditions contributed to the reported cases of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) in the Palestinian population. An epidemiological study of patients attending primary health care clinics in the Gaza Strip found that the overall prevalence of PTSD symptoms in patients was 29 percent and significantly higher among females than in males. Thirty-six percent of those exposed to traumatic events were found to have PTSD (Abdel-Hamid, 2002).4 To put these figures in perspective, the estimated lifetime prevalence of PTSD among U.S. adults in the general public is considerably less: 7.8 percent, with women (10.4%) twice as likely as men (5%) to develop PTSD at some point in their lives. Among U.S. Vietnam veterans, the prevalence of PTSD is 30.9 percent for men, indicating that the incidence of PSTD among Palestinian refugees is higher than that of Vietnam veterans (U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs, n.d.).5 PTSD is defined as a potentially chronic condition that occurs after a person experiences, witnesses, or is confronted with an event or events that involve actual or threatened death or serious injury or a threat to the physical integrity of self or others. The traumatic event is persistently reexperienced in thoughts or nightmares, associated with intense and disturbing psychological symptoms (American Psychiatric Association, 1994). The duration and high prevalence of PTSD among the Palestinian people confounds an ostensibly unsolvable conflict. The vulnerable mental state of many Palestinians heightens their need for stability and security. Thus, the need for positive affirmation and group bonding, which lowers anxiety and increases self-esteem, becomes higher than usual to counteract their vulnerable psychological state. Under conditions in which one repeatedly cannot control one’s destiny, feelings of helplessness can result in a condition known as learned helplessness. Behavioral psychologists researching this condition have demonstrated that people will actively try to avoid a negative stimulus up to the point of realizing their efforts are futile; then they no longer resist but, instead, submit. The Palestinian myth is permeated by a sense of helplessness, including the inability to prevent successive Israeli governments from annexing and appropriating lands, the inability to prevent more than 70,000 Jewish settlers from moving into Gaza and the West Bank, helplessness in the face of Israeli policies and actions that implemented searches and seizures, destruction of property, imprisonments, deportations, and even torture (Rowland & Frank, 2002). This helplessness is exacerbated by lack of support from the international community. According to social cognitive theory, self-efficacy provides the foundation for human motivation, well-being, and personal accomplishment (Rowland & Frank, 2002). For Palestinians, it can be argued that the disparity in power between

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them and their neighbors, combined with their inability to effect change, led to a state of collective learned helplessness. The Intifadas can be seen as a collective effort to reverse Palestinian despair through aggressive and empowering communal action. As long as the Intifadas are viewed as one of the few viable means for Palestinian progress and power, this method will likely continue because it gives the Palestinian people a sense of self-efficacy and an opportunity to reframe their self-perception and status in the world (Rowland & Frank, 2002).

Beginning a Dialogue The psychological and sociological forces driving the conflict in the Middle East must be addressed in order to realize a fuller understanding of the roots of and potential solutions to the Israel-Palestinian conflict. Despite the subjectivity and complexity of the human mind, human factors exist at a fundamental level in this conflict. The failure to adequately incorporate psychology and sociology in resolving the Israeli-Palestinian conflict comes at the expense of peace. The animosity between Israelis and the Palestinians is fueled just as much by concrete events as by the intangibles of psychological dynamics like fear, prejudice and myth. In order to curb this cycle, some degree of mutual empathy is necessary before sustainable peace will ever be achieved. But before empathy can be extended to the so-called other, each side must genuinely believe that it has a safe place for its identity to flourish. Although identity is necessary for the human condition, the form it takes can be altered with proper and intensive interventions. Improvements in the relationship between whites and blacks in South Africa can serve as an example. Although change is possible, it must be a carefully crafted and executed process. When identity—the very concept that defines a person—is asserted by force (e.g., war, international interventions), it will be ultimately unsustainable. National identity, built on myths, can be reconstructed, but only if individuals are empowered to retell their own version of their story. The Israeli and the Palestinian governments have often done a disservice to their own people by failing to give them a sense of security when they needed it most. Governments can do much to help people reinterpret their national identity for the greater good. They must reassure their people that their sacrifices are not in vain but, rather, for the benefit and longevity of the nation. If citizens can be convinced, through policy, rhetoric, and—most importantly—action, that change is genuinely in their best interest, that there is hope and opportunity, then change can—and does—happen.

Notes 1. Quite obviously, the situation in the Middle East is immensely complex. Similarly, humans are also complicated and diverse. The author recognizes that there are both Israelis and Palestinians who favor conciliatory policies and are sincerely committed to peace and willing to make the necessary sacrifices. Because the aim of this chapter is to focus on the conflict, however, the general subjects are those Palestinians and Israelis who



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are imbued with animosity toward the other and subsequently are responsible for sustaining the conflict. 2.  Another explanation of myth is given by Sa’di (2002): “Sites of memory are subjective and, as such, they cannot be refuted, nor can they be subjected to a detached account or to a comparative analysis. This is so because they represent the subjective account of a group of people, not of certain historical events that have influenced its life greatly, but the way in which these events are grasped, interpreted and felt.” 3.  Interestingly the words Al-Nakbah and Holocaust, the formative events in both the Palestinian and Jewish experience, respectively, both mean “catastrophe.” 4.  The study was conducted in 10 primary health care clinics selected at random among governmental and main nongovernmental primary health care providers. Every second patient in each clinic between ages 16 and 55 years, except those who came for referrals, vaccinations, insurance or driver’s license examinations, prenatal care, reports, pregnancy problems, or emergencies, was invited to participate after consulting their general practitioner. Of 670 patients invited, 661 agreed to take part. Highly educated patients were more often exposed to traumatic events, but the prevalence of PTSD was lower than among less-educated patients. Males exposed to traumatic events reported a lower prevalence of PTSD than traumatized females. 5.  The higher prevalence of PTSD among male Vietnam War veterans is likely explained by their greater exposure to combat situations.

References Abdel-Hamid, A. (2002). The prevalence and associated socio-demographic variables of post-traumatic Stress disorder among patients attending primary health care centres in the Gaza Strip. Journal of Refugee Studies, 15, 283–295. Adams, G. R., & Marshall, S. (1996). A development social psychology of identity: Understanding the person in context. Journal of Adolescence, 19, 429–442. American Psychiatric Association. (1994). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders. (4th ed.). Washington, DC: Author. Associated Press. (December 16, 2002). Arafat calls for end to bombings. Retrieved August 22, 2006, from http//:nucnews.net/nucnews/2001nn/011216nn.htm. Barash, D. (1994). Beloved enemies: Our need for opponents. New York: Prometheus. Drury, J., & Reicher, S. (2000). Collective action and psychological change: The emergence of new social identities. British Journal of Social Psychology, 39, 579–604. Ellemers, N., Spears, R., & Doosje, B. (1997). Sticking together or falling apart: In-group identification as a psychological determinant of group commitment versus individual mobility. Journal of Personality Psychology, 72, 617–626. Feshbach, S. (1990). Psychology, human violence, and the search for peace: Issues in science and social values. Journal of Social Issues, 46, 183–199. Greenberg, J. (1996, August 7.) Arafat says plan for settlements violates accords. The New York Times, p. A1. Harmon-Jones, E., & Mills J. (1999). Cognitive dissonance: Progress on a pivotal theory in social psychology. Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. Kark, R., & Shamir, B. (2002). The dual effect of transformational leadership: Priming relational and collective selves and further effects on followers. In B. J. Avolio and F. J. Yammarino (Eds.), Transformational and charismatic leadership: The road ahead (pp. 7– 91). Oxford, U.K.: Elsevier.

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Kelman, H. (1999). The interdependence of Israeli and Palestinian national identities: The role of the other in existential conflicts. Journal of Social Issues, 55, 581–600. Kreidie, L., & Monroe, K. R. (2002). Psychological boundaries and ethical conflict: How identity constrained choice and worked to turn ordinary people into perpetrators of ethnic violencec during the Lebanese civil war. International Journal of Politics, Culture and Society, 16 (1), 5-36. Marshall, Rachelle. (2005). Sharon Makes Sure There Will Be No Peace Talks. Washington Report on Middle East Affairs, 24(9), 12-31. Mnookin, R. (2005). The internal Israeli conflict: The past, present, and future of the Jewish West Bank and Gaza settlements. Negotiation Journal, 21, 165–170. Oakes, P. J., & Turner, J. C. (1980). Social categorization and intergroup bias: Does minimal intergroup discrimination make social identity more positive? European Journal of Social Psychology, 10, 295–301. Preidt, R. (2002, October 1). Post-traumatic stress can haunt refugee women. Health on the Net Foundation. Retrieved March 19, 2003, from http://www.hon.ch/News/ HSN/509419.html Profile: Mahmoud Abbas. (n.d.). BBC News Online. Retrieved October 10, 2004, from http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/in_depth/middle_east/2001/israel_and_the_palestinians/profiles/1933453.stm Psychology of Terror, The. (n.d.). Retrieved March 10, 2003, from http://www.psyplomacy. com/Resources/projection.pdf Reynolds, C., Turner, J., Haslam, A., & Ryan, M. (2001). The role of personality and group factors in explaining prejudice. Journal of Experimental Social Psychology, 37, 427– 434. Rowland, R., & Frank, D. (2002). Shared land conflicting identity. East Lansing: Michigan State Press. Sa’di, A. (2002). Catastrophe, memory and identity: Al-Nakbah as a component of Palestinian identity. Israeli Studies, 7, 175–198. Stephan, W., & Finlay, K. (1999). The role of empathy in improving intergroup relations. Journal of Social Issues, 55, 729–743. Tajfel, H. & Turner, J. C. (1986). The social identity theory of intergroup behaviour. In S. G. Worchel & W. Austin (Eds.), Psychology of intergroup relations (2nd edition; pp. 7-24). Chicago: Nelson-Hall. Taylor, D. M., & Doria, J. R. (1981). Self-serving and group-serving bias in attributions. Journal of Social Psychology, 113, 201–211. U.S. Department of Veterans Affairs. (n.d.). Epidemiological facts about PTSD. Retrieved January 25, 2006, from http://www.ncptsd.org/facts/general/fs_epidemiological. html Volcan, V. (2004). Blind trust: Large groups and their leaders in times of crisis and terror. Charlottesville, VA: Pitchstone.

c h a pt e r 2

Girls Interrupted: The Making of Female Palestinian Suicide Bombers Katherine VanderKaay

Although volumes have been written on suicide bombers and terrorists in general, the phenomenon of the female Palestinian suicide bomber is so new that little literature exists on the topic and no models account for their behavior. This chapter presents accounts of eight female Palestinian martyrs—or suicide bombers—including their education, marital status, family history, political zeal, significant associations, individual encounters with violence, and suggestions about each woman’s breaking point. The term breaking point describes a pivotal experience each woman had almost immediately prior to her recruitment—an important element to help understand the motivation in the act.1

Wafa Idris Wafa Idris is reportedly the first Palestinian female identified as a martyr. Her suicide mission was carried out in January 2002. Wafa was born in the Al Amari refugee camp near Ramallah, where her parents moved from Ramle, a city in Israel, after the Israeli occupation in 1948. Her father died when she was a child, leaving Wafa and her three brothers to grow up in a small, three-room house with their mother. Little is known about her childhood until 1987, when the first Intifada erupted and Wafa became active in protests, serving on the camp’s women’s committee, helping distribute food, and supporting prisoners’ families (Beidermann, 2002). Her family claims Israeli soldiers assaulted her at least once during her work in the camp. Her oldest brother was imprisoned for his association with Fatah. Wafa was married for about 10 years but suffered a miscarriage and was told by doctors that she would never have children, which was considered a shame to

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the family. Her husband left her, refusing her efforts to reconcile, and married another woman with whom he had two children (Bennet, 2002). Wafa returned home to live with her ailing mother, brother, and his wife and their children in a three-room house. Wafa was Muslim, but not particularly devout, not wearing a veil to cover her long, curly hair. Photographs show her wearing makeup and short-sleeved dresses. Her family describes her as a strong character, confident and determined. After moving back home, Wafa trained with the Red Crescent and worked as an emergency volunteer in the West Bank and Gaza Strip, always working on Fridays—a peak time for attacks during the Intifada because of its being Jewish prayer time—and volunteering for days in a row when there were riots (Beidermann, 2002). Family and friends claim that the repeated trauma of seeing women and children shot and killed led to the breaking point that pushed Wafa to become a martyr. Her brother pointed to “all the terrible things she saw when she worked for the ambulance service, the body parts, the children who were shot, the pregnant women who lost their babies at Israeli checkpoints” (Beidermann, 2002). Friends remember her saying, “I want revenge! Revenge! Revenge!” after being dispatched to scrape up the fleshy remains of a man hit by a tank shell (Beidermann, 2002). Wafa herself was shot three times with rubber bullets while on duty as a paramedic, the last time only two months prior to her suicide mission. After that, something snapped. She started covering her head, praying at home, becoming withdrawn, and beginning to speak of a mission. She contacted the al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade, presumably through her brother’s associates, and on January 27, 2002, Wafa detonated 10 kilograms of explosives on Jaffa Street in Jerusalem, one of the most targeted areas in Israel. The blast killed an 81-yearold man and another young Palestinian woman, injured more than 100 other people, and destroyed local shops. Wafa was 28 years old. Her brothers were reportedly proud because she was the first woman to carry out a suicide mission; posters declared her a heroine; Iraqi President Saddam Hussein intended to erect a monument in her honor. After her mission, the alAqsa Martyrs Brigade reportedly formed a new cell of female Palestinian suicide fighters named the Wafa Idris Group. Israel declared retaliation for suicide bombers, including imprisonment of family members and destruction of the bomber’s family home.

Darin Abu Eisheh Darin Abu Eisheh was born in Beit Wazan, a Palestinian village near the West Bank town of Nablus. Presumably, she grew up with both parents, her father Muhammad and her mother Wafiqa, who are both still alive; at least one brother Tawfik; and sister Ibtissam. Described as brilliant by fellow students, she earned a certificate of academic achievement in English language and literature at al-



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Najah University in Nablus (Greenberg, 2002) and was active in student government and a fervent supporter of Hamas. She never married and had no reported male associations. A devout Muslim and fiercely opinionated, she protested her uncle’s arguments against killing civilians and one’s self, answering, “Aren’t we being shot down like dogs? Do you feel like a human . . . when the Israelis control your every move? Do you believe we have a future? If I’m going to die at their hands anyway, why shouldn’t I take some of them with me?” Her brother remembers, “she was sure that we would be killed for nothing, maybe at a roadblock or when our houses are bombed and she used to say that is better to die for a reason” (Greenberg, 2002). Pivotal events leading up to her attack include the death of her 17-year-old cousin after he carried out a suicide bombing in an Israeli settlement in Tel Aviv for Islamic Jihad and her visit (a week before her mission) to the site where several Palestinian police officers were gunned down by Israeli soldiers (she took home a napkin soaked in the blood of one of the dead officers). Her family traces her breaking point to her witnessing a shooting at an Israeli checkpoint on February 25, 2002, after which her sister quotes her saying, “I will tear them [Israeli soldiers] apart, I swear, I will carry out a martyrdom attack!” (Female Bomber Vowed Revenge, 2002). Three days later, she detonated a waist belt of explosives at the Maccabim Junction, an Israeli military checkpoint near the West Bank settlement of Modiin, killing only herself and injuring two other Palestinians and two Israeli security guards. She was 22 years old. In her farewell video, Darin said, “I decided to become the second female bomber and continue on the same path of Wafa Idris. . . . Let Sharon the coward know that every Palestinian woman will give birth to an army of suicide attackers, even if he tries to kill them while still in their mother’s wombs, shooting them at the checkpoints of death.” Her last words on the tape were, “Our role will not be to shed tears for the killing of our fathers, husbands, and brothers assassinated by the Israelis, we will now turn our bodies into human bombs to destroy the Israeli security theory.” Her video was played on the Arab satellite station, after al-Aqsa claimed responsibility for the bombing. Apparently, her father did not agree with his daughter’s deed and asked, “What good will it do? It’s against the will of the family” (Greenberg, 2002). Her mother’s only comment refers to Darin as a daughter of Palestine. On January 9, 2003, nearly a year after her suicide mission, Israeli defense forces demolished the house of the Eisheh family.

Ayat al-Akhras Ayat al-Akhras was born in Dheisheh refugee camp, one of the largest and most densely populated camps in the West Bank. With his steady earnings from working as a supervisor for an Israeli construction company, her father, Muham-

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mad, was able to build a comfortable, three-story home for his 11 children—7 girls and 4 boys. Ayat, the seventh, was considered the brightest, an A student in high school who planned to study journalism at Bethlehem University in fall 2002, so she could “communicate to the world about the Palestinian cause” (Hammer, 2002). Although she attended services at a local mosque and traveled with her mother every Ramadan to the al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem, there is no mention of veiling or zealous religious practices. Although Ayat was only three years old when the first Intifada broke out in 1987, she was affected by it. Her parents often spoke of Israeli aggression, recounting their forced emigration from Gaza; the camp where they lived was a breeding ground for young militants who were killed or imprisoned during rockthrowing demonstrations; her oldest brother, Samir, was jailed twice for throwing stones at Israeli soldiers; and Israeli tanks were constantly stationed outside the camp’s fences. After the second Intifada began in 2000, Ayat became obsessed with politics, staying up all night watching news reports on Al-Jazeera and the Hizballah network Al-Manar of masked militants roaming the streets and gleefully firing weapons following funerals of camp members. Opinionated, she dominated conversations at family gatherings, defending suicide missions while her family “recoiled at suicide bombings of civilians” (Rohde, 2002). Ayat hung posters of martyrs in her room even though her parents kept pulling them down (Rohde, 2002). Her brother remembered her saying, “God willing, I shall be a martyr one day” (Vallis, 2002). Ayat’s resolve was strengthened when three family members, all associated with Hamas, were killed by Israeli troops in the Gaza Strip, a brother was shot during a camp raid, and a close family friend and Fatah member was killed while attempting to plant a bomb near a Jewish settlement. Her breaking point, according to her family, was when a neighbor was shot in the chest while playing with his infant children. Sometime after this shooting, Ayat made contact with the al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade. Recruiters picked out candidates from schools or mosques, particularly those stating admiration for martyrs. Her self-discipline, hatred of Israel, and fierce Palestinian nationalism made her a natural candidate, needing little psychological preparation (Hammer, 2002). Yet family and friends noticed nothing unusual in her routine or attitude. In her videotaped farewell, Ayat said, “I say to Arab leaders, stop sleeping! Stop failing to fulfill your duty. Shame on the Arab armies who are sitting and watching the girls of Palestine fighting while they are asleep” (Vallis, 2002). The night before her attack, Ayat visited her fiancé and then went to her room, presumably to study. On Friday, March 29, 2002, she left her house about 7:00 a.m., asked her mother to “wish me well on my test today,” and went to class. A fellow student remembers her saying, “I won’t see you anymore,” but denying that she was going to “an operation” (Hammer, 2002). After meeting her contact and crossing the Green Line, Ayat strapped on her belt of explosives and walked to the Supersol Market in the Kiryat Hayovel dis-



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trict during the pre-Sabbath rush, when it was the busiest. She passed the first security guard but was stopped just inside, possibly because her outfit aroused suspicion. Ayat detonated her belt, killing herself, a woman, and a second security guard and injuring 20 others. Family members were at first shocked and appalled at Ayat’s decision. Her father reportedly said, “Words cannot express the pain I feel,” and her mother was supposedly rocked with grief; neither of them were able to watch their daughter’s video message. Her brother Samir said, “Had I known, I would have prevented it. . . . We’re against this killing and blood” (Greenberg, 2002). Her devastated fiancé, Shadi, said, “I hope God forgives her for what she has done” (Barr, 2002). Posters of Ayat appeared in the camp, depicting her with pistol in hand and a black and white checked scarf symbolic of the Fatah movement around her head. A year after her attack, the initial family reticence shifted to pride for their daughter’s actions, and they blamed Ariel Sharon’s rise to power for her radicalism (Rohde, 2002). Ayat became an icon in Bethlehem and at AlQuds University, was a Newsweek cover magazine story (Hammer, 2002), and was featured in the New York Times (Greenberg, 2002; Rohde, 2002) and on CBSTV’s 60 Minutes II (Bomber Next Door, 2003), making her the most discussed female suicide bomber of the time.

Andalib Takatka Andalib Takatka was 20 years old when she killed six people and injured 66 others by detonating her bomb. A seamstress by trade and born in a small village outside Bethlehem into a family of seven siblings, Andalib’s life was ordinary; she attended mosque and occasionally saw friends. Her only notable characteristic was her infatuation with celebrity. She devoured movie magazines imported from Egypt or Lebanon, watched imported videos repeatedly, and pasted photos of celebrities on her bedroom walls, presumably to escape her unremarkable and drab life (Victor, 2003). A turning point in Andalib’s life occurred when two female cousins attempted to execute suicide missions outside the Mehane Yehuda market in April 2001. Numerous men in her extended family had been killed or arrested by Israeli authorities, and three had successfully committed suicide bombings, but no woman had yet “achieved that honor.” The cousin’s extended family moved into Andalib’s home. Particularly upsetting to her was an incident during which Israeli soldiers made her father and brothers sit on the ground for hours without moving. Andalib had to be restrained from tearing at the soldiers. Soon thereafter, she began watching newscasts instead of movies, substituted reading the Koran for fanzines, and hung posters of Wafa Idris instead of glamorous movie stars. Andalib reportedly met the terrorist who planned her attack while on a condolence call to Ayat al-Akhras’s home, where she expressed a desire to follow in Ayat’s footsteps. Only 15 days after Ayat’s detonation, Andalib carried out her mission, returning to the very spot where her cousins had failed—the Mehane

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Yehuda Market. Carrying 10 kilograms of explosives in three plastic pipes and a battery in her handbag, she attempted to enter the crowded market on Friday while hundreds of Jews shopped in preparation for the Sabbath, but was deterred by police and soldiers. Instead, she blew herself up next to a nearby bus stop on one of the city’s main roads, Jaffa Street, killing six and injuring more than 80 people (Lis & Shadmi, 2002). Her family reacted with mixed emotions. Her mother expressed some regret, saying, “If she had told me, I would not have let her go, even if it meant telling the authorities about her. She is my daughter, and a mother can never sacrifice a son or daughter” (Farrel, 2002). Andalib’s village held a wedding ceremony during which the men were symbolically married to the newest shahida. Ironically, Andalib never reached the celebrity status she craved. Though the deadliest female bomber to date, her story was overshadowed by Ayat’s, which had already been featured in a major magazine and on TV, and was preempted on the news by a visit to the region by U.S. Secretary of State Colin Powell.

Hiba Daraghmeh Hiba Daraghmeh was born in Tubas, a Palestinian village in the West Bank, where she lived with her parents, Azem Said and Fatima, and her brother, Bakir, and two sisters, Jihan and Miriam. Hiba was active in student government and the Islamic bloc at Al-Quds University, where she helped stage exhibits of political posters and cartoons and sold cassettes of songs calling for jihad. She was so focused on her studies as a top student and English major who hoped to go on for her doctorate and become an English teacher that she turned down two marriage proposals (Bennet, 2003). Hiba was also an extraordinarily devout Muslim, wearing conservative clothing, never speaking to men outside her family, refusing to listen to love songs on the radio, spending all her free time studying the Koran, and so extreme about veiling (unlike other women in the family) that she even ate lunch away from the school cafeterias so as not to lift her veil in public. Her religiosity intensified after her older brother, Bakir, was shot by Israeli soldiers in 2000 when the Intifada began and imprisoned in June 2002 for plotting a suicide attack for the al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade. According to a newspaper account, on the day of Bakir’s arrest, Israeli soldiers raided the Daraghmeh house and a soldier tore up Hiba’s cherished books (Ghazali, 2003). Family members believe that events that finally pushed Hiba to her breaking point happened later, however, when Israeli Defense Forces stopped Hiba on her way to school with other students and demanded to see her face. She removed the veil, collapsed, and started crying. Hiba made contact with al-Aqsa, presumably through her brother’s associations. Two weeks before her mission, Hiba gave away her books, saying she was going to “a university very far away” (Bennet, 2003). On Monday, May 19, 2003, she arose at dawn, said her morning prayers, prepared the family’s breakfast, and watered plants and picked grape leaves for her mother in the garden. She left the



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house around 12:30 p.m., dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and long tunic, her face covered. Before leaving town, she returned a notebook to a classmate and visited her sisters and grandfather. At 5:14 p.m., Hiba walked into the Shaarei Amakim shopping mall in Afula, a city in northern Israel. Stopped by security, she detonated the explosives in her purse, killing three Israelis and injuring at least 48 others. Her parents were in shock and claimed that they had no indication or explanation for her actions, saying, “All her needs were provided for. . . . She did well in school. . . . She was living with her family” (Bennett, 2003). Yet her grandmother noted, “She was very angry. She was full of hatred against Jews. I believe this is the motivation for what she has done” (Ghazali, 2003). Her mother reportedly said that if she had known what Hiba planned, “I would have tied [her] up with a rope” (Bennet, 2003). Israeli military demolished the Daraghmeh’s house five days after her mission. Hiba’s face—exposed publicly for the first time—was posted on the ruins of her family home on the Islamic Jihad poster that announced her martyrdom.

Hanadi Jaradat Hanadi Jaradat’s story is one of suffering, frustration, and, eventually, revenge. Her family described Hanadi as strong, intelligent, devout, and even stubborn, and they pinpoint her motivation for martyrdom to wanting to avenge the killing by Israeli security forces of her cousin and intended fiancé. After her fiancé’s death, Hanadi stayed with her family in Jenin, working odd jobs and helping support her siblings after her father’s cancer diagnosis. A devout Muslim, she never left home unveiled and read daily from the Koran. Hanadi had graduated from Philadelphia University in Amman, Jordan, in 1999 and returned home, working for two years as an assistant in a law firm in Jenin. She adored her brother, who helped put her through school, and was celebrating his impending marriage at a party with the family and a cousin (a known member of Islamic Jihad) when a white car with Arab license plates drove up slowly and stopped next to the house; two men got out of the car and started shooting her brother (Levy-Barzilai, 2003). Hanadi watched helplessly as he lay bleeding on the floor, was dragged outside, and shot again at close range. After her brother’s death, Hanadi became more religious, reading the Koran morning to evening. At his funeral, Hanadi stood over his grave and vowed, “Your blood will not have been shed in vain. . . . The murderer will yet pay the price and we will not be the only ones who are crying” (Levy-Barzilai, 2003). It is most likely that members from Islamic Jihad, with whom her brother was reportedly associated, made contact with her during their visit to the mourning family’s home. In the weeks before her death, Hanadi made repeated trips to the Salem checkpoint to request a visa to take her ailing father for treatment at Rambam Medical Center but was denied because of her family ties to Islamic Jihad activists, further fueling her frustration and hatred and pushing her over the edge.

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At 8:00 a.m. on Saturday, October 4, 2003, Hanadi said goodbye to her parents, saying she had to hurry to the office to close a big contract. She met her contacts, changed into nondescript Western-style clothes, and crossed into Israel. She detonated her explosive-laden belt in the center of Arab-owned Maxim’s restaurant in Haifa—a town known for harmonious relations between Arabs and Jews—on a day when it was filled with Jews celebrating Yom Kippur, the most sacred of Jewish holy days. The bomb killed 19 people and wounded more than 50 others. Hanadi made big news as the first female bombing claimed by the ultraconservative Islamic Jihad and the most devastating blast to date, topping Andalib’s death toll by 13. Fourteen hours later, the Israeli military launched an air strike against a so-called terrorist training camp in Damascus—claiming it housed jihad members like those who trained Hanadi—and days later razed to the ground the Jaradat home in Jenin. Expecting this, the Jaradats had already moved in with extended family members.

Reem Reyashi Reem Reyashi came from a middle-class family in Gaza City, where her father owned a large battery factory. She married Zaid Awad, a former lifeguard, and they had two children, 18-month-old daughter Doha and three-year-old son Obedia, making her the first mother to carry out a martyr mission. A quiet woman who socialized little and had a strained relationship with her in-laws, Reem and her husband were reportedly quarreling for months prior to her mission. On the night before her mission, her husband and most of his family had gathered for a party that she did not attend (Moore, 2004). Said to be very religious and praying all the time (Bennet, 2004), Reem was the first female martyr claimed by Hamas. The organization had previously rejected Darin Abu Eisheh, publicly stating that as long as there were enough men to fight, women would not be used. On January 14, 2004, Reem took a taxi to the Erez checkpoint, the main crossing between Israel and the Gaza Strip where hundreds of Palestinian workers go to work in the industrial compound just outside the gates. Sometime before 9:30 a.m., Reem, knowing she would set off the metal detectors, feigned a limp and told guards that she had just had an operation and had metal pins in her leg. While waiting to be searched by a female officer, she detonated the 2 kilograms of explosives hidden around her waist, killing four Israeli military personnel and herself. In her videotaped statement, Reem, dressed in combat gear and wearing a green headband and sash (the trademarks of Hamas), shouted, “I have always wished . . . that my body would be shrapnel that tears the sons of Zion, and I have always wished to knock at the door of heaven with the skulls of Zion” (God Make Me a Martyr, 2004). She also said, “I have two children and love them very much. But my love to see God was stronger than my love for my children, I’m sure that God will take care of them if I become a martyr” (Moore, 2004). Although these statements proclaim devout religious loyalty to the Palestinian fight for freedom, Israeli officials alleged that Reem was an adulteress forced to



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carry out the attack to restore her family’s honor (Nessman, 2004), that her lover recruited her for the mission, and that her husband drove the taxi that took her to the checkpoint. Her family denounced these explanations as lies aimed at defaming the family, and her husband insisted that his wife was “an honorable woman who sacrificed her life for the sake of Islam and Palestine” (Toahmeh, 2004). After their daughter’s death, the Reyashi family did not set up the customary mourning tent or receive visitors for condolences. Although the family refused to talk to the press, Reem’s sister-in-law did tell a reporter, “She’s passed away and she’s going to heaven. . . . Where are we going to go if the Israelis attack us and bulldoze our house?” (Moore, 2004).

Zainab Abu Salem Zainab Abu Salem was only 18 years old and a recent high school graduate when she left her family home in the Askar refugee camp outside the West Bank town of Nablus for her mission. She was one of 10 children from a wealthy family who owned a broadcast company where Zainab worked for the three months before her death. Zainab supposedly contacted members of the al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade, telling them she wanted to volunteer for a suicide mission “to avenge Palestinians killed recently by Israeli troops in Nablus” and that if refused, she would attack an army post with a knife (Harel, 2004). On September 22, 2004, two days before the Jewish high holy day of Yom Kippur, Zainab told her family she was going to visit her sister and traveled to the busy French Hill junction, a section of Jerusalem flanked by both Arab and Jewish neighborhoods and already the target of dozens of attacks between 2000 and 2004. Sometime in the late afternoon, Zainab, wearing a traditional Palestinian head scarf and ankle-length robe, walked toward a bus stop where a young Israeli officer called out to her either for a routine check or out of suspicion. After a brief exchange, Zainab “threw her head back” and detonated more than 5 kilograms of shrapnel-laden explosives that she carried in her backpack, killing herself and two Israeli guards (Myre, 2004). When Israeli soldiers came to inform Zainab’s family of her attack, her mother Sahar wailed. Her father, Ali, suffering from a heart condition, fell speechless to a couch and was taken to a nearby hospital, while the family stayed behind to gather what they could before their house would be demolished. No mourning tent or condolence ceremonies were held, and the family went into hiding for fear of further retaliation.

Discussion Attempts have been made to explain the motivation of martyrs based on poverty, brainwashing, violence, despair, frustration, or aggression (Bloom, 2005, p.35). Theorists disagree, from interpreting the act as a choice for political or strategic reasons when alternatives are ineffective (Crenshaw, 1990) to blaming per-

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sonality dysfunction, like inadequacy, a damaged self-concept, and narcissistic and borderline disorders; family political philosophies; confrontations with authorities; and personal connections with terrorists (Hudson, 1999; Post, 1990). A comprehensive theory is likely multicausal, integrating psychological variables with environmental factors. In fact, any analysis of biographical characteristics should be coupled with consideration of the context in which the individuals live, including their social situation and cultural norms. Efforts to arrive at a so-called profile have proved unsuccessful. Some analysts have suggested that martyrs could be described as “mad, male, Muslim and minor” (Brunner, 2005), but this theory has lately been debunked because martyrs also include women and those who are wealthy and educated. Merari’s 20year study of the subject concluded that there is no common personality type and pointed to a vast range of sociodemographic differences among suicide bombers, ranging from age 16 to 40, married and unmarried, males and females, rich and poor, educated and uneducated (Merari, 2005). The eight women described here varied greatly in their relationship status at the time of their mission. Hiba Daraghmeh never spoke to men, Wafa Idris’s husband left her for another woman, Ayat al-Akhras and Hanadi Jaradat were engaged, and Reem Reyashi was a married mother. Their socioeconomic status also varied; some were raised in refugee camps, but a few came from higher income families. It is useful to identify common characteristics, however. All seem to be educated; Hiba, Darin, and Ayat were even described as excellent students. Although it has been pointed out that pain and suffering alone do not create the phenomenon (Bloom, 2005), each woman was exposed to violence: Wafa Idris witnessed casualties daily in her work with the Red Crescent; Darin’s cousin died in a martyrdom mission; Ayat’s brother was shot. For most of the women, loss of loved ones at the hands of the Israeli military seems to be a breaking point that propels them to their self-sacrificial mission. Another common characteristic is religiosity, though ranging from dedication to being extremely devout. To be sure, with every attack carried out by a female, the role of women in terrorism attracts more attention. Scholars increasingly recognize that women terrorists are not an inferior version of their male counterparts but equally worthy of study. Failing to recognize women as legitimate actors only leaves counterterrorism experts with a mounting security threat.

Note 1. These stories are based on published reports from newspapers and magazines as well as some academic papers; however, they have not been independently verified.

References Barr, C. (2002, April 7). Why a Palestinian girl now wants to be a suicide bomber. Christian Science Monitor, p. A11. Beidermann, F. (2002, January 31). The Palestinians’ first female bomber. Salon.com. Retrieved August 28, 2003, from http://www.salon.com/mwt/feature/2002/01/31/ female_bomber/print.html



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Bennet, J. (2002, January 31). Arab woman’s path to unlikely martyrdom. New York Times, p. A10. Bennet, J. (2003, May 30). How 2 took the path of suicide bombers. New York Times, p. A14. Bennet, J. (2004, January 16). “Israel seals off Gaza Strip in response to suicide bombing.” New York Times, late ed., A4. Bloom, M. (2005). Dying to kill: The allure of suicide terror. New York: Columbia University Press. Bomber Next Door, The. (2003, May 28). 60 Minutes II. Retrieved August 28, 2003, from http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2003/05/23/60II/printable555401.shtml Brunner, C. (2005). Female suicide bombers—male suicide bombing? Global Society, 19, 29–48. Crenshaw, M. (1990). Questions to be answered, research to be done, knowledge to be applied. In W. Reich (Ed.), Origins of Terrorism (pp 247–60). New York: Cambridge University Press. Farrel, S. (2002, April 17). Seamstress and student met in accident of hate. Times Online. Retrieved November 17, 2004, from http://www.timesonline.co.uk/printFriendly/ 0,,1-23-269748-23,00.html Female Bomber Vowed Revenge. (2002, March 1). Ottawa Citizen, p. A7. Ghazali, S. (2003, May 27). The story of Hiba. The Independent. http://www.independent. co.uk/. God Make Me a Martyr. (2004). BBC News Online. Retrieved January 18, 2004, from http://newsvote.bbc.co.uk/mpapps/pagetools/print/news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_ east/33974 Greenberg, J. (2002, March 1). Portrait of an angry young Arab woman. New York Times, p. A10. Hammer, J. (2002, April 15). How two lives met in death. Newsweek, pp. 18–23. Harel, A. (2004, July 10). Bomber, 18, volunteered for suicide attack. Haaretz.com. Retrieved March 21, 2006, from http://www.haaretz.com Hudson, R. (1999). The sociology and psychology of terrorism: Who becomes a terrorist and why? Washington, DC: Library of Congress, Federal Research Division. Levy-Barzilai, V. (2003, October 16). “Ticking Bomb.” Retrieved February 19, 2005 from Haaretz.com Lis, J., & Shadmi, H. (2002, April 13). 66 people still in hospital after Friday suicide bombing. Haaretz.com. Retrieved December 3, 2004, from http://www.haaretzdaily.com/ hasen/pages/ShArt.jhtml?itemNo5151607 Merari, A. (2005). Suicide terrorism. In R. Yufit & D. Lester (Eds.), Assessment, treatment, and prevention of suicidal behavior (pp. 431–453). Hoboken, NJ: Wiley. Moore, M. (2004, January 15). Young mother kills 4 at Gaza crossing. Washington Post. com. Retrieved January 18, 2004, from http://washingtonpost.com/ac2/wp-dyn/ A15098-2004Jan14?languageprinter Myre, G. (2004, September 23). Bombing kills 2 policemen in Jerusalem. New York Times, p. A3. Nessman, R. (2004, January 18). Recent suicide attacks lead to Palestinian criticism of choice of bombers. Associated Press. www.sfgate.com Post, J. (1990). Terrorist psycho-logic: Terrorist behavior as a product of psychological forces. In W. Reich (Ed.), The origins of terrorism (pp. 25–40). New York: Cambridge University Press. Rohde, D. (2002, April 13). Grief turns to pride for the family of a woman who helped set an awful precedent. New York Times, p. A6.

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Toameh, K. (2004, January 18). Erez bomber’s family denies coercing her to suicide. Jerusalem Post Online Edition, Retrieved December 3, 2004, from http://www.jpost.com Vallis, M. (2002, March 30). Rash of female martyrs makes profiling uncertain. National Post (Canada), p. A15. Victor, B. (2003) Army of roses. New York: Rodale Press.

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Coming of Age in Times of Terrorism Barbara Sofer

In recent months, one gory terror attack has followed another with such rapidity that we are beginning to lose track of the chronology and to depersonalize the victims. Nonetheless, the events of one January afternoon were haunting: the image of Nina Kardashova, age 12, celebrating her bat mitzvah in David’s Palace hall in Hadera while a young man with a totally different agenda made his way to the gate with an M16 rifle. “I didn’t even get a chance to cut the cake,” said Nina, wearing the earrings her grandfather, killed in the attack, had given her. Bar mitzvah celebrations for boys have been documented since the thirteenth century, but feting a girl’s coming-of-age is a twentieth-century innovation. A bat mitzvah is supposed to be a moment of joy, when the young girl takes the step from being a girl to being a young woman. On that day, she is supposed to be the master of her own life. Bat mitzvah girls should not have to deal with terror. Who could have guessed that within hours on the same day that Nina’s bat mitzvah was blasted by a terrorist’s bomb that another 12-year-old, my petite and pretty cousin Jamie Sokolow from Long Island, would join the sorority of adolescent Jewish girls like Nina whose childhood were blemished by malevolence. The Sokolows were no stranger to terrorism. Mark, a corporate attorney, had been on the 38th floor of the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001. His narrow escape was one of the reasons they had made the trip to visit their daughter Ilana, age 18, who was studying Torah at a woman’s school in Israel. Another reason was the family’s desire to make their younger daughter Jamie’s bat mitzvah year particularly meaningful. Mark and his wife, Rena, told me that they would like to buy Israeli sandals for their three daughters at a well-known shoe store on Jaffa Road. They asked me if I thought it was safe.

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Like most Israelis faced with such a question, I tried to avoid a direct answer. But I did tell them about seeing shoppers in a dress store sprayed by machinegun fire even while the glaziers were repairing the glass. My office is just a block from where they would be. They would phone me when they finished their shopping, and I would meet them, bringing along a manuscript I had edited for Mark’s stepmother—the story of her miraculous survival as a child in Nazi Germany. The moment the phone rang, I knew it was Mark, and I sprinted down the stairs. The sun was out; the air was crisp. Just as I was crossing the street, the noxious, now familiar, boom reverberated. From the smoke and the direction the border police were running, I knew that the explosion was near the shoe store. Within minutes, the road was sealed for fear of additional bombs. I begged a border guard to let me through to look for my cousins, but to no avail. The emergency room of the hospital nearby was already being readied for the injured. The hospital guard let me in. I found Mark, bruised and cut, but alive. I will never forget our embrace. “Find the rest of the family,” he begged me. Jamie was in the next room. I had often heard stories about the difficulty of recognizing loved ones after a terrorist attack, but when I saw Jamie, I realized the stories were true. Not only did the cuts, burns, and bruises make Jamie look different, she also looked much older than she had the night before. Through the haze of the experience, I recall the doctor saying that Jamie was alive and would be all right. Then doctors told us that Rena and Lauren, their 16-year-old daughter, were in the hospital, too, but that they were also alive and would be all right. Ilana was safely in class at school. Because of an eye injury, Jamie had to be moved to Hadassah University Hospital, Ein Kerem. We sped through Jerusalem in the ambulance, siren blaring. Ironically, Jamie’s bomber was a Palestinian woman who had volunteered for an ambulance service. It was her way to gain entry into Jerusalem. In another ironic twist, the Hadassah ophthalmologist treating Jamie was a Palestinian woman, dedicated to saving sight for all. The so-called good news, she told us, was that this particular bomb was not loaded with nails and screws soaked in rat poison, like other terrorist bombs have been. A bat mitzvah girl is the hero of her life, and hero was a word I thought of often as Jamie lay bandaged in the emergency room, undergoing examinations, answering questions about her allergies and contact lenses, recounting the terrifying event for doctors and camera-wielding journalists. “Of course I’ll want to come back to Israel,” she told a surprised reporter. “I’m Jewish and this is my land.” Jamie’s inner strength and nobility, at a mere 12 years old, impressed everyone. The hospital staff applauded as she came out of treatment. Was this brave girl really only 12? Jamie was now 12-plus. Twelve plus one lethal encounter with those dedicated to violate the sanctity and innocence of her childhood. This is not the way a young girl should come of age. May the God of our fathers and mothers protect all children from harm.

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Raised for Jihad: A Shahid’s Daughter Speaks Out Nonie Darwish

I grew up as a Muslim in the Gaza Strip in the 1950s when it was under Egyptian control and President Gamal Abdel Nasser was committed to unify Arab countries, destroy Israel, and stand up against the West. My father headed the Egyptian military intelligence in Gaza and the Sinai and started the Fedayeen movement, which means armed resistance against Israel. They made guerrillastyle attacks across the border into Israel to cause as much damage, destruction, and death as possible. My father was killed when I was eight years old and was hailed as a national hero, a martyr. Nasser vowed that all Egypt would take revenge. I remember high Egyptian government officials and Nasser coming to our house and asking, “Which one of you will avenge your father’s death by killing Jews?” I didn’t want to kill anyone but was afraid to say so because people might think not wanting revenge meant that I did not love my father. One night in response to a Fedayeen attack, Israel sent commandos to our heavily guarded house, but my father was not there, and they left us—the women and children—unharmed. I was grateful that the Israeli soldiers did not kill us, especially because the Fedayeen had killed so many Israeli civilians, including women and children. A guard at our home was killed, which was sad because he used to play with us, and I liked him a lot. As a child, I went to Gaza elementary schools, where we learned to hate and take revenge. They told us not to take any candy from strangers because it could be a Jew trying to poison us. We were told Jews were devils, evil, the enemy of God, and dogs; dogs were unclean, so if you touched them, you had to wash. It would have been a sign of weakness to speak of peace with Jews or a sin to question hating the Jews or other non-Muslim Infidels, so I kept my questions and opinions to myself. We learned to blame everybody else for our mis-

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takes; just like authority figures, government officials, teachers, and preachers blame Israel for everything. Every lesson in school, songs, poetry, movies, and even cartoons were about the divine mission of jihad and the destruction of the state of Israel. We recited jihadist poetry every day, and some of the girls cried when we had to pledge jihad to give up our life to be a martyr. Like robots, we looked up to suicide bombers in the hope of going to heaven, too. Only years later did I realize that indoctrinating children about an enemy and keeping people fearful and hating each other is a clever way to control them, that hatred stems from fear, and that fear of Jews had to be promoted by tall tales, which was not hard because none of us had ever met a Jew. Everything changed for me one day when I was 21 and sitting on a hilltop with a Christian friend and hearing a sermon coming from a loudspeaker atop a nearby mosque. Every prayer ended with cursing of the enemies of Islam. My Christian friend looked scared, and when I saw that fear in her eyes, I felt embarrassed by the way my religion was being taught. I call that incident “the first seed” because it marked the beginning of my interest in knowing history from the other side. How can there be such talk of hate and violence in some mosques? I often wonder why some Muslim clergy do not preach about love and compassion instead of stirring anger and paranoia against Israel and the West. I remember hearing the voice over the loudspeakers shout, “May Allah destroy the infidels and the Jews, the enemies of Allah. We are not to befriend them or to make treaties with them.” They have blamed 9/11, the London and Madrid bombings, and even the 2004 tsunami on an Israeli conspiracy. Allah’s name is used for terror as singers compete to glorify Jihad in songs like “Ya Mujahid fe Sabil Allah,” which means “We Are Arabs . . . known for our heritage in creating the Art of war; Hay Mujahed for the sake of Allah.” Terrorism from the Muslim world comes from those who promote hate, jihad, and anti-Semitism for generations. Terrorism not only hurts Israel or the United States but also hurts our own children and Muslim culture, in which kids are taught that blowing themselves up to kill Jews is a virtue. I thought a good Muslim was compassionate, forgiving, and tolerant. When will we come to our senses and realize that teaching hate is a form of child abuse that only hurts Arab children and prevents them from growing up healthy and loving? Many Arabs warn me that if I say such things or support peace with Israel then I am against Arabs and could get in trouble. But I am for my people and the future of my culture. Palestinians are shamed, blamed, and manipulated into never making peace with Israel, given weapons, and rewarded for terror. But consider that Arabs are to blame for neglecting the infrastructure and economy of the Palestinians. It all comes down to oil and money anyway, does it not? Now they are using the Palestinians for their own benefit to fight the war they want. Terrorists are not freedom fighters, as some claim; they are brainwashed killers, oppressors, and murderers, the hidden hands of tyrannical and despotic re-



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gimes who want to keep their people in bondage. They reject progress, human rights, and equality under the law. Like pirates, they live off the destruction of others but cleverly disguise their cause around honorable religious slogans. I cannot see any justification for barbaric beheadings of trumped-up enemies. The true freedom fighters are the women and men who speak for peace, progress, democracy, and freedom, even if their lives are threatened; many of them are currently in jails or murdered. For 30 years I lived in the Middle East and had to watch my tongue and not speak up against what I saw was wrong. I personally have witnessed so-called honor killings in which girls are murdered when some man thinks she rejected or disgraced him. I know girls who were forced to undergo female genital mutilation in the name of rites of passage and purity. I see the devastating effects of polygamy, with women harem, often four married to one man at a time, some by force, some by choice, hiding under their ghostlike garment. According to Western ways, accepting responsibility and apology may be necessary for psychological healing and making up between adversaries, but I predict none of that between the Palestinians and Israelis. To say you are sorry in the Arab world is an unmanly sign of weakness that can get you brutally punished. Better to deny a fact—however blatant—and blame someone else than admit wrongdoing and apologize. Honesty is not rewarded, and lying in Islam is allowed in times of war. Muslims are in a constant state of jihad against the infidel non-Muslims whose land is called “Dar Al Harb,” meaning “Land of War.” No surprise, we were taught since childhood to solve disputes with violence. The West must understand the psychology of the Arab culture. President George W. Bush’s apology for the Abu Ghraib prison abuses is not seen in Arab culture as the decent thing to do or a notable act of taking responsibility, but as a naive admission of guilt and a sign of weakness. Americans in their ever so politically correct liberal culture are always making themselves undergo some sort of collective self-psychoanalysis to uncover the root causes of why they could have caused such evil. After 9/11, did any Muslim leader apologize on behalf of Muhammad Atta, who was from Egypt, or the rest of the terrorists from Saudi Arabia? The Saudi and Egyptian governments officially condemned the actions of a fringe minority but never took responsibility. If 19 Americans committed a terrorist act against an Arab nation comparable to 9/11, Arabs would call it a declaration of war by the United States against Islam, and a full-blown war by all Muslims around the world would immediately start against Western interests. The flow of oil would stop with no explanation or exception. In Muslim culture, during the Daheyah (sacrifice) feast, Muslims bring a lamb into the home for ritual slaughter in front of the family and children, accompanied by the invocation “Allahu Akbar.” Now the Daheyah—sacrificial lambs—of radical Islam are Jews, like Nick Berg and Daniel Pearl, beheaded with no mercy and with a prayer that is a perversion of Islam. It was most horrifying when they beheaded a British female peace activism who for 30 years was married to a Muslim man and ran a nongovernmental organization to serve the local community.

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Another psychological principle drives this so-called intractable conflict: oppressed people, deprived of internal peace, jobs, and basic human rights, could not care less about peace with other nations; self preservation is all that matters. This is what is going on with the Palestinians. Israel has become a useful enemy to blame when attention should be on improving the lives of the Palestinian people. Israel is not perfect. But when my brother collapsed and was given a three percent chance to live, he was taken to Hadassah University Hospital, and the Jewish doctors saved his life; they treated the son of a jihad. In that time of health crisis, an Arab could trust Jews. Other countries are afraid to speak freely about their own leaders and culture and to pressure the Arab world to pressure Palestinians to end terrorism and live in peace. Everybody talks about how the United States should be the intermediary in brokering peace between the Palestinians and Israelis. Why does the Arab world not do it? Golda Meir said there will be peace when Arabs love their children more than they hate the Jews. I am a mother who loves her three children—and all the world’s children—and hopes for the day when peace with Israel will bring a better future for all our children.

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5

The Mental Health Situation for Palestinians Abdel hamid Afana

The aim of this chapter is to describe the mental health problems faced by Palestinian families, women, and children living under Israeli occupation. Although the objective is not to emphasize the tragic situations surrounding Palestinian uprooting from their homeland in 1948 and again in 1967, social and political contexts cannot be separated from mental health. Mental health is broader than a lack of mental disorders and has been defined by scholars from different cultures to include subjective well-being, perceived self-efficiency, autonomy, competence, and self-actualization of a person’s intellectual and emotional potential (Puckett, 1993; Tudor, 1996; WHO, 2001). Further, mental health can be seen as inextricably tied to human rights because those who live in oppressive environments are at risk of developing mental ill–health problems (Afana, 1995). The concept of mental ill–health is not well articulated in Palestinian society. Mental problems are pathologized; that is, they are seen in an extremely negative light and narrow view when they should be seen in a broad context, taking into account biological, social, and environmental factors. The hope for peace, freedom, and democracy—which is a universal wish that all people and societies share—lies in empowering people to take an active role in their own mental health-related issues as well as equipping mental health professionals with interdisciplinary skills so they can help people achieve positive mental health and human rights that, in turn, would effect meaningful social, economic, and cultural changes. Mental health professionals have a strong role to play in building bridges to peace through health. The assessment of mental health in Palestinians is further confounded by the fact that individuals tend to present emotional distress in somatic forms that allows them to occupy the sick role, avoiding the blame and stigma of Palestinian

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negative attitudes toward mental illness (Afana, 1996). As a result, there is a high frequency of physical symptoms among Palestinians in particular, and Arabs in general, that really can be seen to reflect underlying depression and anxiety (Dwairy & de Gruyter, 1998).

Social, Political, and Living Environment Following the 1948 war and the creation of the state of Israel, approximately 914,221 Palestinians were forced to flee from their cities, towns, and villages. The majority was displaced to the Gaza took to the streets to erect barricades and begin their stone-throw The cost of the Intifada has proved to be high and has affected all sectors of the Palestinian community. Men and women of all ages suffered general stress, frustration, and hopelessness, which inevitably activated new waves of violence and aggression aimed at restoring the people’s dignity and self-esteem. Thousands have been killed or left handicapped, however, and youths are ready to sacrifice everything—including their lives—for the cause of liberation of their land and for the promise of life hereafter. To contain the situation and avoid more tension and killing, attempts at peace have been made, starting in 1991 in Madrid, Spain. The signing of the Declaration of Principles by Israel and the Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO) in September 1993 marked the first, albeit fragile, step toward a solution to the longstanding confrontation between the Israelis and Palestinians. The process has produced a series of agreements, including Oslo I, the declaration of Principles, Gaza-Jericho and an interim agreement, Oslo II, and others. Translating these agreements into tangible results was slow, however, and the outcome was mixed and disappointing for the general population. The stalemate in the peace process led to the second Intifada (Al-Aqsa Intifada), which erupted in September 2000 between Palestinians and the Israeli Army. The conflict escalated further into what the media call a low-intensity war in which Israelis fight with lethal force and Palestinians resist with whatever they have. Shellings by Israeli helicopters and tanks and bombings from fighter jets became a part of Palestinian daily life, disrupting socioeconomic, political, and family structure and reviving painful memories of being uprooted, for example, being expelled from their villages to refugee camps in the Gaza Strip, or living with the daily threat that their house could be bulldozed any day. In fact, 73,105 Palestinian houses have been demolished, leaving thousands of people homeless. In the last five years—from September 2000 to September 2005—of the Al-Aqsa Intifada, more than 4,000 Palestinians were killed by the Israeli Army, among them 766 children. An additional 45,486 Palestinians were injured, and 8,600 individuals were put in prison, among them 288 children (Al-Jazeera, 2005). A survey by the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics showed that about 56,000 Palestinians had to change their place of residence because of the current crisis (mainly because they lived closed to Israeli settlements or checkpoints). Schoolwork was disrupted because students or teachers were not able to reach the school, with the result that 59 percent of schoolchildren stopped going to school



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because of the situation. Health service delivery faced similar problems, with 62.5 percent of the Gaza population unable to reach primary health care clinics (PCBS, 2001). Moving between Palestinian towns means crossing checkpoints, which requires permits that are often rejected. Treatment by Israeli soldiers at the checkpoints is often cruel and degrading. Further, the closing of borders between the Occupied Palestinian Territories and Israel—sometimes for many months—has caused serious consequences for Palestinians, who cannot enter or exit at all during these periods, including lack of livelihood for the majority of the population, which has resulted in skyrocketing unemployment; absence of freedom of movement, including for patients and students; lack of export opportunities; and a prisonlike atmosphere. One of the first, and few, comprehensive studies to assess the living conditions of Palestinians in the West Bank and the Gaza Strip was carried out by the Norway Institute for Applied Social Science in collaboration with Palestinian researchers. The study focused on the individual’s “living conditions . . . defined not so much by economic goods possessed, but by the ability of the individual to exercise choice and to affect the course of his or her own life” and includes physical and psychological welfare necessary to achieve that sense of human and selfrespect (Heiberg & Ovensen, 1994, p. 13). The study found that 40 percent of families were living in overcrowded conditions in the Gaza Strip, with more than three or four people in a room. The unemployment rate more than doubled from 2000 to 2001 and is now estimated to have reached 50 percent in the Gaza Strip. Before the second intifada, about 21.1 percent of people in the Strip were living below the poverty line, which increased dramatically to 81.5 percent. Refugees living in camps revealed higher prevalence of mental health problems compared with those living in other areas, due in part to poor economic conditions, overcrowded housing, poor infrastructure, public health problems of the camps, and being subjected to imprisonment, shootings, night raids, and house demolition. Those able to move from the camps were most likely wealthier and also healthier individuals with greater self-esteem and personal resources. During the Intifada, a collectivist style of relating between individuals and their community existed; individuals put aside self-interest and obeyed the will of the group (Dwairy & de Gruyter, 1998; Heiberg & Ovensen, 1994; Mirowsky & Ross, 1989). They often renounced the losses of their beloved sons, husbands, brothers, and fathers. When the Intifada subsided due to the Declaration of Peace Principles between Palestinians and Israelis, the high expectations and hopes that people had for the peace process were not subsequently realized. This outcome reopened wounds created by the loss of important family members and friends, causing more stress.

Effects on Youth and Political Prisoners A central characteristic of the Palestinian experience over the last 50 years has been violation of human rights. More than 600,000 Palestinians have been de-

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tained by the Israelis since the beginning of the occupation in 1967; 175,000 during the first intifada alone. Tens of thousands of Palestinians were exposed to torture in Israeli prisons, leading to disastrous psychological effects not only on individual victims but also on the Palestinian community as a whole. In a study of Palestinian political prisoners, about 8 out of 10 were exposed to sensory deprivation (such as blindfolding), constant loud noise, and physical abuse. Other psychological maltreatment included sleep deprivation, exposure to bright lights, extreme hot or extreme cold, witnessing torture, threats to relatives, and being forced to stand naked (El Sarraj, Punamaki, Suhaile, & Summerfield, 1996). The prevalence of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) among former prisoners was 40 percent and higher among those who were injured during the Intifada (Khamis, 1993). The Intifada has negative effects on the behavior of teenagers in Gaza. Twentyeight percent of teens surveyed felt hopeless, disappointed, depressed, sad, and angry. Twelve percent expressed hatred toward Israeli soldiers (El Helou & Johnson, 1994). To cope with feelings of fear, 65.5 percent of the teens reported that they pray and read the Koran, and 14.7 percent read books, talk with elders, meet friends, and sleep, although their sleep is associated with nightmares. To cope with anger, 50.7 percent of teens reported that they used religious rituals such as praying, going to the mosque, and other rituals, and 22.9 percent directed their anger toward the Israeli Army; others become agitated and cry. In the community, trauma was reported by 36.8 percent of people, with 19.5 percent reaching the clinical level of PTSD. PTSD was more frequent among males (13.7%) than females (15.8%), and Palestinian refugees exhibited more than twice the level of PTSD symptoms than other residents (24.7% compared to 11.7%; GCMHP 1998).

Stresses on Women and Parenting The unique cultural and environmental situation of Palestinian society adds to the stress of Palestinian women. Women live in an authoritarian community in which men hold the power and authority. In one study (Qouta, El Massri, & Temraz, 1999), a quarter of women in Gaza were exposed to domestic abuse at least once in their childhood. During the Intifada, women had to become very active and participate jointly with men in the political struggle against occupation, having to change their role from traditional housewife (only taking care of the children) to being involved in the political struggle. Some of these women whose husbands were arrested, imprisoned, or killed in the struggle had to become the head of the household, causing more stress. Despite the interesting side effect of some women experiencing an increased self-esteem and self-confidence (Heiberg & Ovensen, 1994), women who belonged to families with loved ones who were imprisoned, in general, had higher psychological distress and lower well-being than women related to nonimprisoned men (Khamis, 1998). In the Palestinian context, being a parent is one of the most complicated jobs, due to a legacy of trauma and violence. The frequent absence of men in the Pales-



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tinian household burdens women with dual responsibilities: maintaining their traditional role as nurturing mother as well as taking on the new (traditionally male) role of economic provider. The typical Palestinian female lives in crowded, substandard conditions and is exposed to the constant strain of the PalestinianIsraeli conflict, either in daily life or by hearing reports in the press or on TV. One study found 63 percent of Palestinian women in Gaza were exposed to traumatic life events (Qouta et al., 1999), and another found higher stress in mothers compared to daughters, showing the significant effect of a woman’s increased family roles on psychological distress and well-being; the most common complaints presented were headaches, feeling fearful, and crying easily (Khamis, 1998). Married and widowed women had higher scores of psychological distress than others, and homemakers had higher scores than students. Women living in refugee camps visiting outpatient clinics had more anxiety and depression symptoms than women living outside the camps (Afana, Lawler, & El-Sarraj, 2004).

Stresses on Children The Intifada appears to have given rise to forces of social change with clear consequences for Palestinian society in general and for children in particular. Children under 16 years of age (more than half the population) have been involved in the uprising, either through daily confrontations with the Israeli Army or by seeing their fathers killed, tortured, or detained. These events rupture the traditional authority structure of the family elders. As the authority of the elders declines, rebellious attitudes and behavior spread not only among the society in general but also among Palestinian youth in schools. Frequent abnormal behaviors among children that have been noted by teachers include lying (10.5%), disobedience (10.5%), and bullying (11%). Frequent emotional disturbances included worries (17.3%), fears (11.8%), and feeling miserable (5.9%; Thabet & Vostanis, 1998). Children with unemployed fathers displayed greater mental health problems, and those children living in inner-city areas or camps showed more anxiety disorders. A negative cycle is set in motion regarding exposure to, and involvement in, the Intifada and its impact on children and parenting. The more that children are exposed to traumatic experiences, the more they suffer from adjustment problems related to parenting; meaning, the more they perceive their parents negatively—as punishing, rejecting, strict, controlling, and lacking intimacy and love—the greater the increases in their psychological adjustment problems. Moreover, the poorer parenting that children experience, the more they suffer from high neuroticism and low self-esteem (Punamaki, Qouta, & El Sarraj, 1997).

Cultural Attitudes and Mental Health For Palestinians, as with people in many developing countries, physical problems (like infant mortality) are more pressing than mental illnesses, but any comprehensive health service plan must also consider mental health needs. As in many developing countries, however, efforts to provide mental health ser-

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vices are hampered by the prevailing attitudes that view mental illness as a stigma or something to fear (Al-Issa, 1995; World Health Organization, 1984). For example, if a woman has a mental health problem, she—and possibly her sisters—would be considered unsuitable for marriage. Stigmatization of mental problems is even worse among former political prisoners. In the view of the Palestinian public, these individuals return as heroes— entitled to privileges not afforded others—and should not have psychological problems. For example, while talking about his prison experience to our center’s staff in an informal setting, a former political prisoner said, “I have no psychological problems.” He admitted that it was difficult for him to take a shower after seven o’clock in the evening, however, which reminded him of the times in prison when the Israeli Army forced him to take a very cold shower in the middle of the night. The result of these society attitudes is that sufferers deny mental health problems and, therefore, do not get the help they need, or sufferers are rejected, leading to a cycle of inadequate care and pessimistic attitudes about mental illness. Patients and their families lack confidence in mental hospitals, which usually are seen as custodial institutions in which troublesome and frightening people are segregated. In Palestinian society, the extended family plays a crucial cultural role, providing valuable economic and psychological support to family members. Sons in each family live with their parents and relatives. As such, the extended family system is able to embrace and tolerate deviant members relatively well. In Palestinian culture, mental disorders follow two models: a more modern medical model or the more a more traditional model. The traditional model considers that mental disorder is due to the work of supernatural forces known as the evil spirit or evil eye, called a genie or an a-fa-reet. This possession cannot be explained in psychological and psychiatric terms but has religious roots, as genies (demons) and angels are mentioned in the Holy Koran. People believe that genies are more powerful than humans; they can fly and have the ability to take human shape and character and speak different languages. Good genies are harmless; bad ones are harmful and can possess the human body, causing psychiatric disorders. Possessed people deviate from normal behavior of people in the community and may talk different languages that nobody understands except themselves and traditional healers. This view is even held by some more educated professionals, though they may not express their view openly (Afana, Dalgard, Bjertness, & Grunfeld, 2000). Traditional healers claim to be the only people who are able to extract the genie from the human body. Palestinians share the belief with most Middle Eastern and some African countries that these traditional healers have the ability to communicate with genies and treat the deviant behaviors (Al-Issa, 1995; World Health Organization, 1984). Traditional methods of treatment are varied; for example, those who are invaded by an evil eye are asked to sacrifice a sheep or to immerse papers written by the healer in water for a certain period of time and drink it or spread the water in front of their door. Clients may be asked to place an amulet—a piece of



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parchment with religiously significant words and symbols usually worn as a necklace—in their pillowcase to protect the house from genies. Other traditional healers read passages from the Holy Koran over the client’s head and ask the client to pray regularly. Palestinians believe that to avoid the evil eye or being taken over by evil spirits—especially if a person buys a new car or house—you must hang up a blue slogan, which looks like an eye inside a hand with five fingers. The person invaded by evil spirits may complain from headaches, lower back pain, general malaise, and other physical symptoms. A common belief is that male sexual impotence on the first night of marriage is attributed to being bewitched or invaded by the evil eye. The man becomes unable to perform sexual intercourse and becomes frustrated, anxious, and restless because his masculinity is threatened. Usually, traditional healers are invited to save the client’s honor. The healer sits alone with the client in a room full of smoke, listens to the client’s complaints, and reassures him, then reads passages from the Holy Koran over the client’s head. Some herbs are offered orally, and finally the client is advised not to practice sex for three days, during which time the traditional healer visits the client and repeats the same procedure. Some traditional methods of treatment are brutal. Patients are beaten severely to extract the genie from the body. They may also be restrained and beaten, while the traditional healer talks with the genie in a language not understood by the patient’s family. Sometimes they talk in Arabic, asking the genie to leave the patient’s body from the big toe. In March 1998, a female patient died because of such of treatment. Some healers use a combination of religious rituals and biological methods; holy intravenous infusions are prescribed to help weaken the genie that circulates in the person’s blood. The healer opens a bag, breathes into it, and reads passages from the Holy Koran. Among the Palestinian population, it is acceptable to be possessed, to have spirits speak and act through you, and to have hallucinations or delusions as a result of this possession. Such conditions are called devil possession and are not necessarily considered a mental disorder or warranting a psychiatric diagnosis, a framework that is considerably different from a Western perspective. Because of this acceptance and because of the stigmatization of mental illness, sufferers readily seek help from traditional healers—a practice that is widespread—or will present their psychological complaints in the form of physical symptoms. The second explanatory model of mental illness is a more medical model— closer to Western models—whereby mental disorders are neurobiological disturbances that require chemical treatment. Practitioners of this model, however, often cannot differentiate between severe psychotic disorders and less severe neurotic disorders. Western categories of major psychosis, such as schizophrenia and manic depressive psychosis, may be given different labels in Palestinian culture, called majnoon, ahbal, or moukathalif (mad), or the sufferers are usually considered as having either brain disorders or being affected by hereditary factors.

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Psychiatry in Primary Health Care Primary health care (PHC) is the term formally adopted by the World Health Organization as a preferred strategy for organizing health care accepted by many countries. According to the philosophy of PHC, a country’s health care system should be integrated into the overall social and economic development of a country, and people should take responsibility to improve their own health in cooperation with health professionals (World Health Organization/UNICEF, 1978). In most countries, people usually seek help for mental problems from traditional or more professional medical sources at the primary health care level (Brodsky, 1988; Hansson, Persson, & Borgquist, 1997; Kehoe, 1999; Morris, 1996; Patel, Simunyu, & Gwansura, 1997). The overall prevalence of mental health problems among Palestinian primary health care patients was 73 percent, higher among females than males (Afana & Timra, 2003). Previously married and single individuals showed a higher prevalence than married patients. For Palestinians, the most common complaints were “worrying too much about things” and “feeling nervous.” The prevalence of PTSD symptoms among primary health care patients was 29 percent, higher among females than males. The most common symptoms among those who experienced traumatic events was a reexperience of those traumatic events, 36.4 percent of whom met the criteria for a formal psychiatric (DSM–IV; American Psychiatric Association, 1994) diagnosis of post-traumatic stress disorder (Afana, Dalgard, Bjertness, Grunfeld, & Hauff, 2002). The most prevalent problems seen in primary health care settings in other countries include depression, generalized anxiety, somatic disorders, panic attacks and post-traumatic stress disorders (Al-Jade & Malkawi, 1997; Rickels & Schweizer, 1998; Weiller, Bisserbe, Maier, & Lecrubier, 1998; World Health Organization, 1990). The ability of PHC physicians to detect disorders has been found to be rather poor (Coyne, Schwenk, & Fechner-Bates, 1995; Kramer & Garralda, 1998; Weiller et al., 1998). In comparison, Palestinian general physicians were able to detect mental health problems (more readily in females than in males; Afana et al., 2004). Those with postgraduate mental health training were more able to detect mental health problems than those without training. Studies reveal three attitudes of health professionals toward mental disorders: (1) a Western cognitive and community approach that is sympathetic to mental illness and deinstitutionalizes mental illness, (2) emotional reaction and tolerance that accepts and tolerates mentally ill clients either through direct contact (living in the same house) or by indirect contact (allowing the mentally ill to live in the same region), and (3) a traditional cognitive approach that involves traditional beliefs of the causes and cures for mental illness as spirit possession that requires traditional healing (Afana et al., 2000). When looking at differences between health professionals, older health professionals have a more traditional attitude and are more tolerant of mental illness,



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compared to younger health professionals, who show a marginally Western cognitive and community way of thinking (17.5% of older professionals compared to 4% of younger professionals believe that mentally ill clients can be cured by traditional healers). Twice as many older as younger professionals (38% compared to 17%) support the idea of taking a mentally ill client to holy places for a cure. Ninety-seven percent of younger health professionals and 90 percent of older professionals support the idea that anyone can become mentally ill. Professionals do not agree on accepted definitions of what constitutes a psychiatric case, and PHC physicians ignore or are not familiar with traditional psychiatric diagnosis criteria, such as those in the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (4th ed., rev.; DSM– IV–TR). Therefore, they sometimes apply their own conceptual framework and nomenclature, such as nervous breakdown, nervousness, or psychosis. Nearly twothirds of general practitioners have been shown to be aware of psychological distress in their patients and its psychosocial importance to the patient’s mental health but do not diagnose or treat these according to more Western models for several reasons: They may think that psychological labeling and/or mental health treatment is inappropriate or inexpedient, that the psychiatric disorder is untreatable or will remit spontaneously, that labeling and treatment may do more harm than good, that treatment is not feasible due to time or financial constraints, that patients may resist a psychiatric label and resist treatment recommendations, or that psychiatric disorders are outside the realm of the practitioner’s competence or responsibility. Nonrecognition of psychiatric disorders may also be partly due to lack of diagnostic vigilance, skills, or time.

Recommendations and Implications The prevalence of mental health problems among Palestinians is high in comparison to other nations and constitutes one of the major challenges facing policy and decision makers, yet current mental health services are inadequate and inaccessible. These services must be integrated into primary health care settings so clients can be managed in the community; must be based on politically acceptable methods; accessible and affordable; must emphasize the total, whole person; must offer a range of preventive, curative, and rehabilitative services; and must be adapted to the needs and resources of each community. The Palestinian population has lived through several wars between Arabs and Israel (1948, 1956, and 1967), long stressful periods that include the Israeli occupation and the Intifada, and then the limbo of the peace process. They have been exposed to a series of multiple, repetitive, and continuous traumatic events, including imprisonment, torture, human rights abuse and murder, house demolitions, physical roadblocks, disability, land confiscation, and building of the wall. Thousands of Palestinians were put in jail and upon their release faced enormous pressures as they attempted to reintegrate into community and family life. Many

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were subjected to systematic torture, and hundreds were killed and many thousands became disabled. The disruptive impact of all of this was evident not only on socioeconomic, political, and family structure but also on the Pales uprisings, which creates unbearable stress for the Palestinian fami The Israeli withdrawal from the tiny and densely populated Gaza Strip was a unilateral step that threatened the fragile peace process and contributed to the state suspicion, mistrust, and fear; the Strip will be isolated from the West Bank and East Jerusalem. Currently, Palestinians need a permit to travel between the Gaza Strip to the West Bank and from each of these to East Jerusalem. Mental health professionals have strong associations at the grassroots level and are appreciated by the leadership (political, religious, and military). Unfortunately, the peace process neglects the peace-building efforts of other professionals (health and others) that could complement formal negotiations by building what is know as bottom-up support. This blind spot is not well highlighted and supported. This is crucial in a protracted conflict that lasts for generations and occupies a central place in the lives of the people involved. Mental health professionals (among other professionals) have a strong role to play in building bridges for peace between the conflicting nations.

References Afana, A. (1995, September). Mental health in Palestine: Community approach. In International conference: Palestinian in transition: Rehabilitation and community development. Gaza Strip: GCMHP Publications. Afana, A. (1996). Community in crisis health action. Health Action, 16, 11. Afana, A., Dalgard, O. S., Bjertness, E., & Grunfeld, B. (2000). The attitude of Palestinian primary health care professionals in the Gaza Strip towards mental illness. Egyptian Journal of Psychiatry, 23, 101–111. Afana, A., Dalgard, O. S., Bjertness, E., Grunfeld, B., & Hauff, E. (2002). The prevalence and associated socio-demographic variables of posttraumatic stress disorders among patients attending primary health care centers in the Gaza Strip. Journal of Refugees Studies, 15, 283–295. Afana, A., Lawler, J., & El-Sarraj, E. (2004). Gender and other predictors of anxiety and depression in a sample of people visiting primary care clinics in area of political conflict: Gaza Strip. RAHAT Medical Journal, 2(1), 81–89. Afana, A., & Timra. (2003). The assessment of mental disorders in primary health care clinics in the Gaza Strip. Journal of Primary Health Care Research and Development, 4, 267–274. Al-Issa, I. (Ed.). (1995). Handbook of culture and mental illness: An international perspective. Guilford, CT: International Universities Press. Al-Jazeera news. (2005). Three years of the second intifada. Retrieved September 27, 2003 from http://www.aljazeera.net American Psychiatric Association. (1994). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (4th ed.). Washington, DC: Author. American Psychiatric Association. (2000). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (4th ed., text rev.). Washington, DC: Author.



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Brodsky, B. (1988). Mental health attitudes and practices of Soviet Jewish immigrants. Health and Social Work, x, 30–136. Coyne, J., Schwenk, T., & Fechner-Bates, S. (1995). Nondetection of depression by primary care physicians. Reconsidered General Hospital Psychiatry, 17, 3–12. El Helou, M., & Johnson, P. (1994). The effects of the Palestinian intifada on the behaviour of teenagers in the Gaza Strip. Journal of Child and Youth Care, 9, 63–70. El Sarraj, E., Punamaki, R. L., Suhaile, S., & Summerfield, D. (1996). Experiences of torture and ill treatment and posttraumatic stress disorder: Symptoms among Palestinian political prisoners. Journal of Traumatic Stress, 9, 595–605. Gaza Community Mental Health Programme (GCMHP). (1998). The effect of the current situation: An epidemiological study on the prevalence of stress related psychiatric disorders among Palestinians in the Gaza Strip. Retrieved November 1998 from www.gcmhp.net Hansson, L., Persson, K., & Borgquist, L. (1997). Patients with mental illness in primary health care: A long-term follow-up of health care utilisation and contact patterns with psychiatric care. Scandinavian Journal of Primary Health Care, 15, 129–133. Heiberg, M., & Ovensen, G. (1994). Palestinian society in Gaza, West Bank and Arab Jerusalem: A survey of living conditions. (FAFO Report 151). Oslo, Norway: FAFO, Institute of Applied Social Science. Kehoe, N. (1999). A therapy group on spiritual issues for patients with chronic mental illness. Psychiatric Service, 50, 1081–1083. Khamis, V. (1993). Posttraumatic stress disorders among the injured of the intifada. Journal of Traumatic Stress, 6, 555–559. Khamis, V. (1998). Psychological distress and well-being among traumatised Palestinian women during the intifada. Social Science and Medicine, 46, 1033–1041. Kramer, T., & Garralda, P. (1998). Psychiatric disorders in adolescents in primary care. British Journal of Psychiatry, 173, 508–513. Mirowsky, J. and Ross, C. E. (1989). Social causes and psychological distress. New York: Aldine de Gruyter. Morris, E. H. (1996). A spiritual well-being model: Use with older women who experience depression Issues. Mental Health Nursing, 7, 439–455. Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics (PCBS). (2001). Survey on the impact of Israeli measures on the economic conditions of the Palestinian households. Retrieved September from http://www.pcbs.org/english/labor/lab_curr.htm Patel, V., Simunyu, E., & Gwansura, F. (1997). The pathways to primary mental care in high-density suburbs in Harare, Zimbabwe. Social Psychiatry and Psychiatric Epidemiology, 32, 97–103. Puckett, A. (1993). Community mental health. Sydney, Australia: Harcourt. Punamaki, R.-L., Qouta, S., & El Sarraj, E. (1997). Models of traumatic experiences and children’s psychological adjustment: The role of perceived parenting and the children’s own resources and activity. Child development, 64, 718–728. Qouta, S., El Massri, M., & Temraz, N. (1999). The prevalence of mental disorders in the Palestinian community in Gaza. GCMHP Newsletter, 16, 29. Rickels, K., & Schweizer, E. (1998). The spectrum of generalised anxiety in clinical practice: The role of short-term, intermittent treatment. British Journal of Psychiatry, 173 (suppl. 34), 49–54. Thabet, A., & Vostanis, P. (1998). Social adversities and anxiety disorders in the Gaza Strip. Archives of Disease in Childhood, 78, 439–442.

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Tudor, K. (1996). Mental health promotion: Paradigms and practice. London: Routledge. Weiller, E., Bisserbe, J., Maier, W., & Lecrubier, Y. (1998). Prevalence and recognition of anxiety syndromes in five European primary health settings: A report from the WHO study on psychological problems in general health care. British Journal of Psychiatry, 173 (suppl. 34), 18–23. World Health Organization. (1984). Mental health care in developing countries: A critical appraisal of research findings (Technical Report series 698). Geneva, Switzerland: Author. World Health Organization. (1990). The scope of mental health into primary health care. Geneva, Switzerland: Author. World Health Organization. (2001). Mental health: New understanding, new hope. Geneva, Switzerland: Author. World Health Organization/UNICEF. (1978). Primary health care: International conference Alma Ata, USSR. Geneva, Switzerland: Author.

chapter

6

Coping with Terror: Lessons from Israel Danny Brom

Is Israeli society resilient? An unequivocal answer to this is difficult to give be-­ cause in many ways Israeli society has remained a highly functional society, but at the same time we know that there is a price that is being paid. Israeli society for sure would like to be resilient and to a large degree is, but, in truth, it is also truly suffering. It is suffering after this more current period of terrorism and has been suffering for a long time. Does this mean that Israeli society is not resilient? When pondering this question, the question of the nature of resilience comes up. The concept of resilience is being used at this moment for a variety of phenom-­ ena and there are difficulties with its definition. One of the current definitions of resilience states: “Resiliency is defined as the capability of a system to maintain its functions and structure in the face of internal and external change and to degrade gracefully when it must” (Allenby & Fink, 2005, p. 1034). This definition stresses the flexibility of a system or organism to deal with changes and hardly relates to the price that is being paid for adaptation. Resilience is a capability, and the result is that functioning and structure are maintained. Resilience can also be seen as “the process of adapting well in the face of adversity, trauma, tragedy, threats, or even significant sources of stress—such as family and relationship problems, serious health problems, or workplace and financial stressors” (APA, 2002, p. 21). The lat-­ ter definition does relate to the outcome of the process but still remains vague about what it means to adapt well. Masten (1994), a well-­recognized expert in the field of resilience of children, wrote: “Resilience in an individual refers to successful adaptation despite risk and adversity” (p. 3). We can conclude that the concept of resilience needs further clarification and that the question whether someone or a group or a society is resilient can only be answered if we are willing to define what successful adaptation is.

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We propose to divide the issue of resilience into two fields: 1. The adaptation to a challenge. 2. The price that is being paid for this adaptation.

Traditionally, an Israeli response to stress is reassurance; “Things will be okay.” From a family systems point of view, the mother usually reassures the child, “Things will be okay, trust me.” This reassurance is not effective anymore, however, when bombs go off on a weekly basis and when parents feel that there is no way they can protect their children. Many factors must be taken into account to understand the current approach in Israel to dealing with terror. These include factors about the traditional Is-­ raeli psyche and family system as well as new skills that must be learned to im-­ prove the ability to cope. These are outlined in the following paragraphs. 1. Emphasis on the present. Although Israel traditionally has been a society that operates with an awareness of its long history, in the current face of terror, a new emphasis has had to be placed on the here and now, for there is no tomorrow or next week.

Yet this focus on the here and now has built-in problems. The mentality of triage—attention to the most immediate problems and those people who are suf-­ fering now—ignores the long-term perspective and people who may not be suf-­ fering at the moment but who might manifest problems later. Reconciling the long-term as well as the immediate needs of people is a challenge for all traumarelated treatment. Attention is given to the immediate problem and victims not only by profes-­ sionals but by the media and the public. In no fewer than two days after an im-­ mediate crisis, the interest level can go down, people forget and are forgotten. Israel tends to forget those who are not in the trauma now, yet we need to do more than just respond with our gut response to the emergency at hand. 2. A focus on preparedness. In the current face of terror attacks and suicide bomb-­ ings, one must become prepared for disaster and terror. This preparedness can be implemented in several systems: a. The educational framework. The school system must know exactly what to do to inform parents and to safeguard children. Safeguarding children does not mean only getting security procedures in place; it also means to create optimal circumstances for healthy coping to develop. In addition, we must be prepared to help those children who do not recover well and who need ex-­ panded services and therapy. It is a well known fact that not many trauma-­ tized children show up for services. Therefore, it is crucial that active out-­ reach and screening (Baum, 2005; Chemtob, Nakashima, & Hamada, 2002; Pat-Horenczyk, 2005) procedures be put in place to identify those children at risk for long-term problems. b. In hospitals and emergency rooms. Procedures for handling victims have been put in place that never existed before, including how to follow up with





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people who have come in and are released after several hours. Systematic fol-­ low-up is the only way to make sure that people get the care they need. c. In personal life and thoughts. Preparedness, for individuals, means that they must strengthen their knowledge about emergency procedures, expected re-­ actions in themselves and in their environment, coping mechanisms in the different channels of human functioning (Lahad, 1993), and ways to help themselves and others.

Despite this preparedness, however, people cannot prevent suffering entirely. Unfortunately, psychologists are also not sufficiently prepared to prevent suf-­ fering or to handle all the suffering from current terror. For example, a system is in place whereby psychologists are dispatched the day after a terror incident to the schools with techniques such as helping the children talk and even paint pictures of their feelings about the attack, but they may not return the next day; this does not mean that the children are all functioning well. In the face of the current crisis, Israeli society and its people are facing intense feelings of depression and helplessness. How is the society coping with this help-­ lessness? In general, Israel is a hardworking, helping, and active society. It is coping in several ways:









1. Always doing. Israelis are very busy all the time. Israeli society can be de-­ scribed as a hyperactive one, with an addiction to adrenalin. Israel has a very high level of volunteerism, and important parts of the emergency services, such as the ambulance services, rely on volunteers. 2. A helping society. One way to combat helplessness is by helping others. Conse-­ quently, there is much volunteerism in Israel and recruitment of focused social supports. The moment an event occurs, people form a strong bonding, and there is an enormous outpouring from those who want to help and a huge vol-­ unteer turnout and development of programs. The slogan “United We Stand” after 9/11 is also a sign of this bonding. This innate phenomenon of bonding under threat is a force that can be utilized in the recovery phase afterward. 3. Creation of heroes. Heroes are people to look at, to follow in their footsteps, and provide a model for strength. But heroes also can define someone who is “not us.” Victims of terrorism are sometimes lifted to that level and are put in a special category. This phenomenon plays a societal role in controlling our fears and feelings of guilt toward the victims. The downside is that sometimes vic-­ tims are kept in that position; their victimhood becomes perpetuated by society and may develop into a pseudoidentity. This does not allow full recovery. 4. Acceptance of fatalism. Although there are some downsides to fatalism, it is also a way of getting out of helplessness, by thinking “When my name is on the bullet, then it is my time.” 5. Becoming numb to trauma. Unfortunately, as the number of terror attacks and incidents increases, people lose sensitivity to their impact and use all kinds of mechanisms to diminish their input of stimuli. In the beginning of reigns of terror, people become hypervigilant to news, to check what has happened. It is hard to turn off the TV, and people become addicted to news. Over time, how-­ ever, they tend to develop ways to diminish the confrontation with the trauma. They may turn on the radio to hear news briefly, to know that something hap-­

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pened, but then they quickly turn their attention to what they have to do, as if to say, “Life goes on.” 6. Neglect of other suffering and/or trauma. In the midst of continued terrorism, other traumas and stresses tend to be put aside and not dealt with. Terrorism then becomes synonymous with trauma, and other traumas end up being seen as unimportant by many sectors of society. This influences both government policy and private funders and has the potential to create strong feelings of injustice in people who are victimized in incidents that are not included under the label terrorism. 7. Continuous search for new methods to deal with terror. Professionals are con-­ tinually looking for new techniques, more ways, and other experts to train health workers. Therapists say, “We need more techniques. We’ve had training from Mr. X and from institution Y, but we need more. What else can we do?” Experts also seek more labels to identify trauma so that we can understand the suffering and work through it. 8. Sensation seeking. Israel is a society that has an addiction to adrenaline (e.g., act-­ ing out on the roads, driving aggressively, as well as acting out interpersonally). In adolescents, it has been shown that there is a relationship between their post-­ traumatic reactions to ­terrorism and risk-taking behavior (Pat-Horenczyk, 2005). ­Additionally, research shows an increase in fatal traffic accidents in the aftermath of terrorist attacks. Therefore, we can say that the amount of trauma increases in response to the ongoing threat of terrorism. 9. Disregulation of emotions. People under threat constantly struggle to find a balance between not feeling and feeling too much. The increase in intrafamilial and school violence in the years of ongoing terrorism in Israel seems a direct result of this. 10. Isolation of victim groups and bereavement groups. In the face of terrorism, direct victims tend to develop an additional identity from being a victim. This is the result of a two-way process between society, which tries to neutralize its fear, and the victims of terrorism, who need recognition for what they are going through. Another example of this process is the parents who lose a child in the army, who have become a very special but also isolated group. For healthy recovery, victims must overcome this isolation. This demands a balance between feeling acknowledged and bridging the trauma that becomes a part of a victim’s identity but must not become that identity entirely. It is important to receive acknowledgement and care, but continuity between the pre-event identity and the new status must exist. 11. Identification of special risk groups. As society focuses on the here and now, people at risk for long-term consequences also risk being neglected. Immediate victims often report that when they need to speak openly about what happened to them over a prolonged period of time, they feel that they are not being heard. Other groups at risk for their needs not being detected are the bereaved, who have long-term needs, and children. Children are known not to show up for services, even if they have a high level of symptoms.

Conclusions To counteract the disintegration of society and take care of the short- and longterm consequences of terrorism, an integrated set of services must be developed.



Coping with Terror: Lessons from Israel

47

In the past years in Israel, a coalition of organizations dealing with trauma has been set up (Levanon, Flamm-Oren, & Kahn-Hoffmann, 2005). The aim of this Israel Trauma Coalition is the creation of a continuum of services by mapping needs of victims, mapping existing services, and creating additional responses. This calls for collaboration between government and the private sector and for collaboration between service providers, which regulates the impulses to help im-­ mediately and forget afterward. Only an integrated approach to ongoing threat and the ongoing presence of terrorism in Israeli society can create the societal preparedness and resilience needed to cope.

References Allenby, B., & Fink, J. (2005). Toward inherently secure and resilient societies, Science, 309, 1034–1036 American Psychological Association (APA). (2002). The road to resilience. Washington, DC: Author. Baum, N. L. (2005). Building resilience: A school-based intervention for children ex-­ posed to ongoing trauma and stress. In Y. Danieli, D. Brom, & J. Sills (Eds.), The trauma of terrorism: Sharing knowledge and shared care, an international handbook (pp. 487–498). New York: Haworth. Chemtob, C. M., Nakashima, J. P., & Hamada, R. S. (2002). Psychosocial intervention for postdisaster trauma symptoms in elementary school children: A controlled commu-­ nity field study. Archives of Pediatric Adolescent Medicine, 156, 211–216. Lahad, S. (1993). Tracing coping resources through a story in six parts—The “BASIC PH” model. In S. Levinson, Psychology at school and the community during peaceful and emergency times (pp. 55–70). Tel-Aviv, Israel: Levinson-Hadar (In Hebrew). Levanon, T., Flamm-Oren, E., & Kahn-Hoffmann, G. (2005). The need for a continuum of trauma services: Who feeds the birds? In Y. Danieli, D. Brom, & J. Sills (Eds.), The trauma of terrorism: Sharing knowledge and shared care, an international handbook (pp. 729–740). New York: Haworth. Masten, A. S. (1994). Resilience in individual development: Successful adaptation despite risk and adversity. In M. Wang & E. Gordon (Eds.), Risk and resilience in inner city America: Challenges and prospects (pp. 3–25). Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum. Pat-Horenczyk, R. (2005). Post-traumatic distress in Israeli adolescents exposed to ongo-­ ing terrorism: Selected findings from school-based screenings in Jerusalem and nearby settlements. In Y. Danieli, D. Brom, & J. Sills (Eds.), The trauma of terrorism: Sharing knowledge and shared care, an international handbook (pp. 335–247). New York: Haworth.

chapter

7

A Bomb on the Bus Yonah Dovid Bardos

Being at the scene of the Number 2 bus bombing was horrific enough. Yet as I begin to write this chapter, news of another deadly attack south of Tel Aviv blares on my radio. It makes writing this only harder. As if that is not bad enough, today I am on my way to a funeral of a friend’s father and sister, both killed in yet another terrorist attack while they were sitting in Café Hillel on Emek Refaim Street in ­Jerusalem, celebrating her upcoming wedding, which was supposed to be today. Her brother is a student in my religious school. In the blink of a terrorist’s eye, they were blown to pieces. My eyes fill with tears for them and for the life that people live here. Sometimes I wonder why so many stay, facing such devastating risks. But I should know, because I stay. August 19, 2003, began like any other day. I was in Israel only one week and already in love with the Holy Land. That evening, I had dinner with three friends, and at around 9:15 p.m. we set out in a good mood, walking around the city of Jerusalem, something we would have hesitated to do before because of the dangerous situation in Israel. The cease-fire had been going on for a while, however, so we thought all was safe. We had only gone about one block, talking and joking, when we heard it. A loud noise like no other, it shook the ground and every fiber in my body. We stopped and looked at each other, puzzled. Then I saw the smoke rise from down the street. Five seconds later, I heard screaming, and I knew what had happened. My heart and mind raced as I turned to a rabbi walking nearby and asked whether it was safe to go help. “Yes,” he said, and I began the fastest run of my life. Halfway down the street, I heard the sounds of sirens coming from

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all directions. Thirty seconds later, I arrived at the gruesome scene. My adrenaline pumping like never before, I ran to the front of the bus. Summoning all my strength, I and a soldier broke open the front doors of the bus and bent the hot metal upward to create a hole for entry. We went in. Legs and arms without torsos were strewn everywhere in the wreckage of the bus. Desperately, I glanced around the carnage, looking for signs of life. Other good Samaritans by now had crawled into the bus from the middle, where it had been blasted open, to help. One pointed to an unconscious man in religious clothing, and the soldier and I pulled him off the bus and set him down on the sidewalk. Because we had no equipment to help him and many more people were screaming in pain, I went back into the bus, grabbing wrists and feeling for a pulse to tell who was dead or alive. An elderly woman was still breathing, and I dragged her off the bus. By this time, Hatzalah (the volunteer ambulance corps) and ZAKA (religious volunteers who give first aid and collect body parts for proper burial) had arrived. I laid the woman on the sidewalk next to two other moaning victims. Volunteers were handing out stretchers and triage kits and threw me one. I slipped the elastic marker around the woman’s upper leg to stop the bleeding and marked her alive but in immediate need of aid. I opened the stretcher, and three other volunteers helped me lift her onto it and into a waiting ambulance. In a seeming blur, I put more people on more stretchers, who were rushed into the waiting ambulances. One man was still sitting in an upright position as if still on the bus, a cigarette box bulging out of his shirt pocket. But part of his face and most of his brain were missing. He must be dead, I thought to myself, and turned instead to grab a woman’s wrist dangling out of the blown-out bus window. Finding a pulse, I shouted excitedly to rescuers on the bus, “Chai, chai,” she’s alive, pointing to her. But they shouted back, shaking their heads, “Meit” (dead). Desperately, I shouted to her, “Yaish lach koach?!” (Do you have strength?). She raised her head and opened her eyes, but the frenzy of rescuers working inside that area of the bus made it impossible for me to get close enough to drag her out. I never saw her again. Meanwhile, one of my friends, Matis, from the Riverdale Hatzalah in New York, was performing CPR on a young boy, but the little one would breathe no more. Sadly, there was no time to mourn as Matis joined me to pull more bodies off the middle of the bus—the part with the most gruesome and gut-wrenching injuries—hoping for more signs of life. One of the bomb checkers shouted “Yeled, yeled” (a child), and a little boy with blood around his mouth was whisked off the bus into the waiting arms of a doctor. Thank God, there is hope, I thought. This image is permanently burned into my brain, along with recollections of the stench of burned skin mixed with twisted, charred metal. I had seen the little boy’s mother on the front of the bus, slumped over, dead, but had not realized that there was a baby sheltered in her arms. She had achieved the ultimate sacrifice, I thought, giving her own life to protect her child.



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By now, Magen David Adom personnel, soldiers, police, ZAKA, and Hatzalah were everywhere. Fortunately, they had all come so fast, but how unfortunate that the country has had to become so prepared for such tragedies. Now that the professionals were there, my job was done. As I walked away, I looked down at my blood-soaked clothes, feeling numb over what had happened, and frantic at the same time. I could not believe that I had witnessed such a horrible act of mankind. I had volunteered in a hospital before but had never seen anything like what I saw that night. Yet something beautiful did happen. How is that possible, in light of such horror, you might ask? In most countries, people try to get as far away, as fast as possible, from such things. People in Israel are even told to run from such a scene because second bombs have gone off to murder the rescuers. But that night the only people I saw leaving the scene were the injured; everyone else ran toward the scene to help, with no fear for their own safety. This is what is beautiful. The day after the attack, there was an article in the Jerusalem Post newspaper saying that the so-called chareidi bomb (probably targeted to religious people who often take that bus) had opened the eyes of the rest of the nation to the fact that religious people are just like everyone else and not a different breed. The religious community’s response to the attack was not anger and revenge but unity and a desire to become better. The attack revealed a true noble side of the religious people, closing the rift between them and the rest of the nation. The bomber had not fully succeeded. Yes, people tragically died. But he wanted me and other people to feel separated and scared, to give up, and to leave. Instead, people and the nation came closer together. I left that horrific scene with more love for the land of Israel, an even greater feeling of unity, and a deep desire to stay in the only place where such a united response could have occurred. Now when I go to the Western Wall, the origin of the Number 2 bus, I cry for all those people who died in the bus or were injured. And every time I see the Number 2 bus, I think of the pegu’a, the attack, of how life is so short and how no one knows when it will be his time. May G-d bring comfort to the families of the dead, complete recovery to the injured, and salvation and peace to all.

Note A version of this chapter appeared in Where What When, Baltimore’s Jewish Family Magazine.

chapter

8

Cries for Help: A Palestinian Social Worker’s Story Nahida AlArja

I am a social worker and psychological counselor at Caritas Baby Hospital in Bethlehem—the only hospital in the West Bank especially for children. It is also good that we have the Caritas Baby Hospital to help families in Bethlehem. The hospital was established in 1954 by a man who came from Switzerland to Palestine on Christmas. He was shocked to see a starving Palestinian child. Because he was in a good situation with money, he decided to start a hospital for children. It grew from 10 beds to 90 beds, and now we have about 250 employees and satellites in the villages. I like doing this work because so many of my people are suffering, and it has gotten worse because of the Intifada.

Domestic Violence The family experiences a lot of violence. Most of the families have problems related to the poor economic situation—meaning they have no money—or the political situation related to the occupation. For example, most of the men do not work because of the situation. When men cannot take care of their family, as men are supposed to do in this culture, they feel shame. So sometimes they become angry and take it out on their wives. For example, I have a case of a woman who has twins, and she cannot breast-feed, so she asked her husband to buy milk for her twins, and he started to beat her because he does not have the money to buy the milk. We give these families financial support, and I try to help the mother to see her husband’s frustration but that she should not accept being beaten by him. Some of these families did not have this problem of violence before this difficult economic situation.

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Terror in the Holy Land

Violence and Fear among Children The children also experience a lot of violence in the schools. The children see the parents fighting, they learn about fighting everywhere from the intifada, and they fight with each other. The parents come to us about their children’s bad behavior. The mothers are upset that their children are wetting their beds during the night or cannot sleep. We tell these parents that the children’s behavior is related to their fears. They are afraid and then they develop a phobia, a fear that makes you avoid something. The children are really afraid of death and afraid of soldiers. A mother will tell me that the child screams when he sees a soldier. It doesn’t matter if it is a Palestinian or an Israeli soldier because the child cannot tell the difference. The mother says, “My child sees a soldier and starts to scream, ‘Mom,’ and tries to run away.” You cannot just tell the child that the policeman and the soldier are nice. The child will say, “No, he is not nice, he will kill me.” Even if you insist that the policeman is nice, the child will argue, “How is he nice when he is killing people?” I tell the child that at the end of the day, this policeman is just a man, and he changes into real clothes, but the child still says, “No, Mommy, no.” One technique I have used successfully is called flooding therapy, which is used in the United States to help people get over fears and phobias. I go with the child to talk to the policeman or the soldier. It takes me two hours to convince the child to go up and talk with the policeman, and then the mother has to approach the policemen to explain the situation. Once the child talks to the policeman, he says, “Oh, he is a nice man.” This takes away the fear and helps the child trust Palestinian policemen and to be less fearful of the Israeli soldiers and policemen.

Poverty and Disability A lot of families have money problems. They have no money to pay for milk for the baby or to pay for an operation for a child. Also, if the child is disabled and we have to transfer him to a rehabilitation center, they cannot pay for it. Many families sit and suffer in their homes without help because they do not know where to go or cannot get there. We do not have enough health services or trained people. There are even more problems outside the city. In the morning, I work in the Nahhaline village satellite, which is surrounded by four settlements. Our team has two health workers, a health teacher, a nurse, a sewing teacher, a doctor, and me. We try to prevent problems, so the teacher gives health and nutrition courses for the mothers, and the health worker gives lectures every Friday for the children to help them express their feelings. The people in the village suffer a lot from poverty but also from disabilities. There is a high rate of disabilities in this village, as well as all over Palestine,



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because first-cousin marriage is so prevalent; as many as 75 percent of marriages are between cousins. In a study, I found that Nahhaline village has the highest rates of disability in Bethlehem district because of first-cousins marriage. Out of 101 people with disabilities, 30 had speech disabilities, 25 had mobility problems, 23 had serious mental disabilities, 13 had hearing impairment, 4 were learning disabled, 3 had fits, and 3 had visual impairment. The practice of first-cousin marriage is very common among Muslims, unlike among Christians for whom it is forbidden to even think about first cousins. Many Muslims prefer to take their cousins, however. If you consider genetics, you know how bad the outcome of having children with close relations can be. I try my best to change the situation. I give lectures every week on how we can prevent child disability by changing this practice. In the end, however, the girl is very poor, and often she cannot make her own decision. If her father says she must take her cousin, then she must take him, and she cannot say no. Some of the girls say no, but then they cannot marry; they would prefer to be married, so they take their cousins. In the end they will pay the price of having disabled children that they will have to take care of.

Problems of Our Work We work out of a small apartment that has very little space for us to do our work. It is also a hardship to get to work there sometimes, even with special permission as a hospital employee. Some days it can take up to two-and-a-half hours one way because of delays at the checkpoints or if you try to avoid the trouble and climb the mountains on foot; really it should take only 15 minutes by car. But we all feel good that we are doing something to make a difference in this village.

My Personal History A little about my personal life. It is very difficult to get an education in Palestine. I am still shocked I have an MA in psychology. When I told people I was going to do it, they said, “No way. You are crazy.” Sometimes I think I am crazy, but I did it. No one outside of Palestine can imagine how difficult it is for Palestinian people. I almost did not get my degree because of the traveling situation. When the children tell me how scared they are of the policemen, I tell them the story of what happened to me the day I had to present my thesis at the university. It was Al-Quds University, in a town called Abu Dees, near Jerusalem. I will never forget that day in May 2004. Now I laugh, but then I was not laughing. Sometimes I wanted to give up. The university is on a street near high mountains and a desert, and sometimes I could get there and sometimes not; I could not continue climbing the mountains in summer or in winter. On the day of my defense for my degree, the Israelis closed the streets, and I knew the school could not consider every student’s excuses or they would close, because all Pal-

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Terror in the Holy Land

estinian people have the same problems getting around. So I knew that you have to manage, no matter what. The soldiers were checking that day. I thought, “Either I will go to prison or I will get to the university.” I had to escape the soldiers to get to the university to defend my degree. I was lucky because the soldier caught two other girls, so he was distracted and I could run past him. I felt guilty that he stopped the other two girls, but I had to do it. I had to sneak away and run up the mountain. I ran, carrying my books, and a young man helped me and told me to run and be careful. I thought, “What am I doing? I will never do it again, but this is the day of my thesis.” I reached the university an hour late, and they asked me, “Where have you been?” I said I saw the soldiers had stopped monitoring the other side for a few minutes, so I hid in a tree. The big hall had 300 chairs, all empty except for the three teachers and one friend. I was sad that nobody from my family was there on my big day. I thought they would ask me, “Where is your family, Nahida? They should come to your presentation.” But they could not get here. The next day, I visited my father in the hospital where the Israeli doctor is our friend. I told the doctor my story, and he said, “If my daughter were in your situation, she would never go to the university. I can’t think of how the Palestinian people are living. How can you even study like that? I sent my son and daughter to America for their education. But they complain.” I told him, “Tell you daughter to come to the Palestinian side and see.”

Peace through Hardship Some Israelis and Palestinians do work together. I go to lectures at a university about narratives of the Israeli and Palestinian people, so I hear the Palestinian side, the Israeli side, and the history, and it is good that the Israelis and Palestinians are talking together. Even if people inside Israel and Palestine do not get along, if they go outside, they get along because they see they have more in common with each other. I was in Washington, DC, with the Seeds of Peace program. I shared a room with Israelis, and we had no problem. By day, we argued with each other, but at night we danced and laughed together. Even though I live in Palestine, I always have to go over to the Israeli side for medicine for my sick father and for other things, so actually we are living with Israelis and we do not have trouble with them. We have no problem with the people; we can live together. The way we think is similar. The problem is with the bosses, the people in charge. My house was bombed by the Israeli military in 2002 and was almost demolished. I missed a doctor’s appointment in Jerusalem for my father, who has cancer, because of the long waits at checkpoints. I used to be able to see the hospital I work at from my balcony; now when I look out, I see only the new big wall that



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Israel built, higher then the Berlin Wall. The wall is right in front of my office at Caritas Baby Hospital. It makes me sad to look out the window and stare at the wall. It is difficult to live in Palestine, but I can also sympathize with the Israelis. In every bus in Israel there is a security soldier saying, “Give me your pass,” or “Give me your document,” because they are afraid that something is going to happen on the bus. We are all afraid—I, the Israelis, and the children whom the mothers bring to me for help. We all need peace.

Note This paper is based on an interview with Neil Ryan Walsh in Cairo, Egypt, on September 15, 2005, at the annual meeting of the World Psychiatric Association. At the time, Walsh was a graduate student in psychology at the New School for Social Research in New York.

chapter

9

Lost Paradise: Trauma and Martyrdom in Palestinian Families Elia Awwad

The nomination of the film Paradise Lost for the 2006 Academy Awards in the foreign film category has awakened mainstream public interest to conditions in Palestinian families, particularly to young men choosing martyrdom. The story follows two friends in the West Bank who consider carrying out a joint mission and the decisions they make. Families of suicide-bomber victims collected signatures to try to boycott the film, but it has received widespread notoriety and acclaim and given insight into the mind of martyrs, their lives, loves, and families. The fictionalized story is a powerful statement about what goes on in real life. This chapter examines similar family dynamics and young men’s lives within the Palestinian community as a result of the intifada (uprising), through the lens of excerpts from a documentary film about a Palestinian family, titled Tear of Peace. The film is produced by IZIS, a Palestinian film company in Bethlehem.1 Sometimes the family members address each other, and at other times they talk directly to the film interviewer. Traumatic events happen not only to individuals but to the individual in the context of the family, to the family as a whole, and to their extended communities. When one member of a family is affected, the whole family and community system are affected, either sharing the consequences or trying to manage the experiences of the others. In this context, Benyaker and Knafo (2004, p. 94) proposed the syndrome anxiety by disruption (AbD), whereby anxiety disorders originate in the subject’s surrounding environment, including the failure of economic and social institutions to form and maintain individuals’ norms and safety, and also result in social, occupational, and family dysfunctions. The al-Mughrabi family’s experience of trauma in life as demonstrated in this documentary’s dialogue is typical of Palestinian families today in the following

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ways: displacement from the home, stress and instability in the family, difficult living conditions, extreme loss and suffering, and dealing with one son’s martyrdom. The al-Mughrabi family is part of the Palestinian diaspora and returned to Palestine after living in several other countries. After the occupation of the West Bank in 1967, the family went to Jordan, and the father joined the Palestinian revolution (how he refers to the Palestine Liberation Organization; PLO). When Jordan’s King Hussein crushed the PLO in 1970, some were jailed or killed, but the family was lucky to escape to Syria. They then moved to Lebanon, where they settled for 12 years. After the Israeli invasion of Lebanon in 1982, the Israelis planted explosives around their house and destroyed it. They moved to Gaza as a good “first footstep in our homeland” and later moved to the Deheisheh refugee camp near Bethlehem in the West Bank, where they are living at the time of this story. The father, Yousef Ahmad Muhammed al-Mughrabi, is a Palestinian national originally from the village of Al-Bureij, which was occupied by the Israelis in 1948. Yousef and his wife had four sons. One son, Mahmoud, became a martyr who failed in a mission and was killed by the Israelis. The eldest son, Ahmad, struggles with the meaning of his brother’s martyrdom and death. The scenes analyzed in this chapter took place 16 months after the beginning of the second intifada against the Israeli occupation. Samples of dialogue are analyzed with regard to how this family typifies Palestinian families and what lessons can be learned for families to better cope with the trauma of the conflict. The excerpts demonstrate a major characteristic of this family’s life—and of many Palestinians—that is, the repeated theme of displacement from their homeland and the violence they live with. As a result of the 1948 war, the family became refugees, a status that continues. Their sense of not belonging and not having a home creates stress, which accumulates throughout their journey through four Arab countries (Lebanon, Syria, Sudan, and Egypt). Endless rejections— from Arab countries, from their home, and even their son Ahmad being rejected from Arab schools—leave them devastated and drained, emotionally, cognitively, physically, and financially. This suffering continues upon their return to Palestine, under continued and ongoing conflict, military occupation, and violence that prevents them—as other families—from healing wounds of the past and being able to cope with present suffering. Yet the al-Mughrabis persist in trying to build a home and to cope with violence that leads one son to martyrdom.



father: I am one of the Palestinian people who was displaced and lived under miserable conditions. [ . . . ] mother: Since my house was destroyed and I had nobody to go to in Lebanon, I thought it was better for me to move on to Syria. We lived in the School for the Children of Palestine Martyrs. father: I left Beirut to the Sudan in coordination with the Red Cross. When I settled in the Sudan, I went to get my family from Syria but was prevented from entering the country.



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mother: At the airport, they wanted him to turn back. He asked them for 24 hours to take his family out of Syria. He told them he was not a resident of their country and that he was not planning to stay for good. We lived in Sudan for seven years. . . . father: Then we got orders to move from Sudan to Libya. ahmad (son): In Libya we stayed in a desert called Al-Kafra, in the southern part of the country, in villages for Palestinians only, moving from one place to another, one country to another, from a city to a desert, from a desert to a village. . . . ahmad: My mother gave him two bracelets of gold to sell and pay for my first semester at the university. When I went to the university to register, I was told to leave the office and go to Jericho to register there. I was also told that, “Since you liberated Palestine, go and ask Abu Ammar [President Yasir Arafat] to register you for university.” I was shocked. At every university I would go to, I was told, “You are Palestinian. . . . You make peace. You sold your land. We have no place for you.” Eventually, I was deprived of my right to study in a university. [. . . . ] father: He [Ahmad] spent two months on the borders because they did not allow him to enter. He slept in a cardboard box.

Feeling unwelcome even by other Arab countries, and having no place, is painful to the family. In further sections, the dialogue demonstrates how home plays a crucial role in the life of all the family members. Despite some desires for peace with Israel, destruction of their home by the Israeli military forces, and living in the Deheisheh refugee camp in two rented rooms is painful. It is more traumatic than their son being killed by the Israeli Army, which is actually perceived in a positive way because he was a martyr and an honor for the family. The dire need to find a home upon their return to Palestine, and their attachment to this house, is symbolic of their need to find security, comfort, and safety. As the father says, “We came to Gaza and Jericho in spite of the fact that it was not a very good deal. For my children, it was very good because it was a first footstep in our homeland. That is why my son registered in the army, in order to enter Palestine.” Land, home, and family are crucial. Education for the boys is also important, for which they must make sacrifices.

ahmad: For us, living in our own house is a high priority, even more important than food. After that we started to plan our lives, although this was very late for our age. I advised my brother to continue his studies in a college and study hotel management.

The need to maintain the dignity of the father is important, for which sons adjust their lives. Even though Ahmad had moved to Ramallah to enter Al-Quds Open University to study, the Palestinian National Authority (PNA) offered lots of work opportunities; because Ahmad was the eldest son, in order to preserve the dignity of his father who was ill, he quit university and went to work.

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Terror in the Holy Land ahmad: My brother Mahmoud, the martyr [who was killed by the Israeli Army], and I worked day and night. Sometimes we worked in stone factories and sometimes as laborers. We did not have a specific profession.

The family attempts to support each other to maintain their collective honor and survival, but ongoing frustrations and stress lead to violence. father: He [referring to one of his sons, Mahmoud] started to go to al-Qubba checkpoint, to throw stones and share the sufferings of the people. At the end of the day, he would come back home physically and psychologically exhausted. mother: Once there was a boy going home from school. A group of Israeli soldiers hit him in his head and shattered his skull. My son Mahmoud gathered the boy’s brain by his bare hands. mahmoud: We were a group of youths throwing stones at the Israeli Army. One of us was standing behind a wall looking at the Israelis. An Israeli sniper aimed his gun at him; it was equipped with a silencer. The sniper shot the boy, a bullet in his head; he fell on the ground without a word. We gathered his brain off the ground, carried him, and went searching for an ambulance. We ran carrying him all the way until we reached the hospital here. ahmad: The group decided to go and conduct an operation against an Israeli military patrol. The result was that my brother became a martyr. He died in my lap. [Mahmoud is shown as “the living martyr,” with pictures of his body wrapped in the Palestinian flag, with relatives mourning his death.]

Family members struggle with Mahmoud’s death. His brother Ahmad is steadfastly proud of his brother as a freedom fighter and is inspired. Their mother, however, not unlike other mothers of martyrs, at first expresses pride but then wonders if life would be better without the violence and conflict from the intifada.





mother: They told me that my son had fallen as a martyr. I told them thanks to God that he died on the soil of his homeland and he was buried in his homeland. I took the news calmly and thanked God for His grace. At the end, I am a believer in God and in destiny. ahmad: My brother the martyr Mahmoud, may God protect him, was one of the best young men. I relied on him a lot, and I consider him a freedom fighter. mother: Now what if Mahmoud had been able to live in his homeland, get his education, marry, and settle down? Do you think he wanted to die?

Marriage to the right woman is important. Because of his actions after his brother’s death, Ahmad is in peril and warns his betrothed. The young woman, Hanady, turns out to be a fine example of a Palestinian wife, as she will support her man whatever he chooses to do. Ahmad marries her, and she demonstrates her belief in the Palestinian cause of fighting the occupation, revealing that rela-



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tionships may not be love matches as much as ideological matches. Pregnancy is further important, as passing on the family name is a crucial responsibility.

father: She was a nice girl; she is a university graduate and a believer in God. I told her that this young man could become a martyr any time. She said, “That is why I want to marry him because in such a case, I will marry him in life and in death, too.”

[ . . . ] ahmad’s wife ( Hanady Ahmad al-Mughrabi): My love for this land is great, and that is why I wished to marry a person that loves this land as much as I do. ahmad: There were Israeli helicopters in the area on the night of my wedding, so I took my wife and left the camp. She is really patient with me. Sometimes I don’t come home for five or seven days, because of the struggle, and sometimes I get injured. Then she is next to me to comfort me. Now I am very content because my wife is pregnant. So if I am killed, there will be somebody to carry my name. hanady: I hope that my son will be like his uncle Mahmoud in body and soul.

The family reacts to the repercussions from the Israelis of their son’s actions and wonders about the meaning of terrorism. mother: They came at about one o’clock after midnight; they came with bulldozers and tanks, which they parked at a distance, and they came to the house on foot. They broke the door, searched the house, and put snipers on the neighbor’s roof. The next day they came and put explosives all around the house. [ . . . ] hanady: I say to myself: “What has become of the house we used to live in comfortably? Where are we now? Homeless? In a tent? In what house? A rented house? Where is my home now to live and rest in?” [ . . . ] mother: (screaming) May God take revenge, may God shake their power; I call on You, God!

The young couple’s life is seriously disrupted by the conflict and raids by the Israeli Army. Ahmad is fearful for the life of his unborn child, as his wife is now pregnant. Like many young Palestinian families, he dreams of having a home of his own, rather than living in his parent’s house—that would bring peace to his soul—but the conflict makes this challenging. Hanady says of Ahmad, “He doesn’t allow anyone to control him. He must be in control of things.” From a psychological point of view, it can be interpreted that Ahmad’s brother’s death and Israeli aggression has challenged his feeling of control and masculinity, so he feels he must regain them by striking back.

father: If there had been stability after Mahmoud was killed, it would have been much easier for Ahmad. But massacres took place daily, so revenge was the answer. Ahmad wanted to defend himself, and that is why he became wanted.

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Terror in the Holy Land ahmad: We started to develop ourselves by using weapons and preparing explosives. This was the blessing of God. We have mercy in our hearts; we don’t want to hurt civilians. But when I see my younger brother killed before my eyes, when I see my house demolished and my family homeless, I have to treat them in the same way, in order for them to go through what we have experienced. [ . . . ] It is really astonishing how the Israelis kill us and then would say that the Palestinians are terrorists. They shoot us with their F16s, Apache helicopters, and tanks. They demolish my house and say that we are terrorists. Is the one who defends his honor and land a terrorist?

It is evident from the scenes that all family members have lacked protection, safety, and stability throughout their unfortunate journey in the Arab countries and in Palestine, which has been associated with persistent traumatic reactions. All their reactions are in response to this lack of protection, safety, and stability. Ahmad becomes increasingly firm about what it means to be a martyr.

ahmad: This situation leads to pressure, anger, and hatred. So the one who did not want to use a rifle feels obliged to use one. I want to take a knife and defend myself. [ . . . ] I do not want the world to think that the Palestinian youth are eager to die, that they want to kill the Jews, or that they like to make suicide attacks. These are not desperate youth. They are the best strugglers for a sacred cause. [ . . . ] Somebody who sacrifices himself for the others is not a desperate person; he is willing to die for a noble cause. He decides to die after he sees his mother weeping, or his brother killed, or his house demolished, or people not sleeping, or students not going to school, or hands and legs cut off. On top of that, an Israeli flies a helicopter to assassinate a young man in cold blood. But this young Palestinian is not alone! Maybe a whole city, all of Palestine, is with him. His brothers, his friends will wish to avenge him. The young man will have hundreds of men behind him! [ . . . ] He—the killer—is the one who plants this spirit among the youth. You say, stop the suicide attacks. But we say to you: Stop the assassinations! Stop house demolitions! Withdraw your army! Give my land back to me! Implement the agreements that you signed with us! Before somebody is a fighter for Fatah, or the Brigades of Qassam, Jerusalem, or Ali Abu Mustafa, he is always a fighter against the Israeli occupation. The martyr is the beloved of God.

Yousef, the father, is discouraged that peace cannot be achieved by negotiation and has accepted violence and sacrificing one of his sons so that the family can become an instrument of higher success for the state. As he says, “If peace can be achieved at the expense of the lives of one or two or three of my children, then we welcome peace, because peace cannot be achieved by words alone, but by blood.” The political context of the family’s life, the miserable conditions of living as refugees, ongoing conflict, and current violence dominate all aspects of family life, including social and occupational. Uncertainties regarding the future and the conditions caused by the Israeli occupation have all shaped each family member’s view of life as difficult and joyless.



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The constant violence, loss of their home, killing of their son, imprisonment of their third son for seven life sentences, and losses suffered by thousands of Palestinian civilians at the hands of the Israeli soldiers cause the family a high level of frustration and despair and bitter feelings toward Israelis. This bitterness is particularly keen for Ahmad, whose reactions are characterized by anger and revenge. Although Ahmad’s wife, Hanady, describes her young husband as stable psychologically, his suffering can be interpreted as emotional numbness as a way to avoid emotion, a typical coping style to repress psychological pain. As a typical young man, Ahmad’s suffering comes from multiple sources: living his whole life as a refugee in exile and then in the Deheisheh refugee camp, being wanted by the Israeli intelligence and knowing he might die any minute, lacking a stable home and employment, being forced to leave the university, losing one brother in the Israeli prison and another to assassination as he died in Ahmad’s arms, and escaping a helicopter raid during his wedding night. [Caption: Ahmad was kidnapped from the Deheisheh camp on August 28, 2002. The following telephone call was made with him inside his prison cell].

ahmad (speaking on the phone from prison): My brothers and the youth outside are the generation who will carry the flag after us. Things will be like this: One becomes a prisoner, one becomes a martyr, and a third one is born again. God willing, our flag will continue to fly high. However, it needs those who can make it fly.

Lessons Learned This narrative is typical of many issues faced by Palestinian families suffering from a history of struggles within their own culture and from the ArabIsraeli conflict, full of bloodshed, trauma, human suffering, loss, and pain. Relentless experiences of trauma have built patterns of anger, hatred, and revenge. Therefore, the seemingly irrational desire of one side to kill people from the other side is perceived by the perpetrator as justified, normal, legitimate, and necessary for existence and survival. One can hypothesize that extremist groups from both sides can take advantage of this long-lasting cycle of human tragedy to promote their political agendas, encouraged and supported by regional and international forces. To end this unfortunate situation for families like the al-Mughrabis, the people of the Palestinian and Israeli nations must recognize the devastating impact of the conflict on families that can lead to the disintegration of society. They need to decide not to fall into a cycle of revenge and hatred. Respect for the family should motivate leaders to come up with creative ways to lead the transformation process from violence, hatred, and revenge to freedom and independence for the Palestinians and security for the Israelis. Individuals and groups are all responsible to start making this change a reality.

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Notes This is an updated version of a paper that was published in International Journal of Politics, Culture, and Society, 17(3), 405–414. 1.  Excerpts have been selected to illustrate points and do not necessarily follow sequentially in the documentary.

Reference Benyakar, M., & Knafo, D. ( 2004). Disruption: Individual and collective threats. In D. Knafo (Ed.), Living with terror, working with trauma: A clinician’s handbook. Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield.

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Terror in Jerusalem: Israelis Coping with “Emergency Routine” in Daily Life Ruth Pat-Horenczyk

The ongoing terror in Jerusalem caused by the intifada and terrorist events has created a need for coping with an ongoing, threatening situation on a daily basis. Few models to follow exist in professional literature, because the situation arising from the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is not a war, as those in Bosnia or Rwanda. What is idiosyncratic about this conflict is that life appears to go on as usual, and traces of the events are quickly erased so that life can continue so-called normally. In addition, the reference point is not a solitary dramatic event, such as the terrorist attacks of 9/11 or suicide bombings in Kenya, London, Spain, or Bali. Since the outbreak of the current wave of political violence, known as the AlAqsa Intifada, in September 2000, Israelis have been living in a state of so-called emergency routine—a concept that pairs two contradicting terms—requiring normal coping in an abnormal situation. The basic beliefs in the existence of a safe place and safety rules have been shaken. Instead, there is constant awareness of the fact that suicide bombers can explode at any time, on buses, in malls, or at celebrations with gatherings of people, all of which are part of daily normal life and a source of interaction with others. Israel, thus, provides an in vivo empirical laboratory for exploring the unique impact of this emergency routine on posttraumatic distress and coping while civilians maintain their habitual lifestyles. This chapter explores different approaches to coping with such emergency routine and real events for adolescents, adults, and professionals.

Control over Lack of Control During a workshop on coping with emergency and stress, which took place at the Israel Center for the Treatment of Psychotrauma in Jerusalem, I asked the

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participants to share a personal story as to how the continuing terror situation impacts their lives. One of the participants described how the situation led her to purchase matching sets of lingerie with lace trimming. Her method of coping illustrates the essence of feeling uncertainty and lack of control but becoming defiant to reassert control over one’s life. This woman’s act embodies the message that although a terrorist act may catch me unexpectedly, and symbolically expose me, I am the one who will decide how I will appear in this intimate and unbearable situation. I will be in charge of all that I can control, and in any situation, I will be armed with pretty lace panties. She further told the group that since the beginning of the intifada, she makes sure that her house is neat and organized before leaving in the morning, so she is ready for any unexpected visit from others who may arrive after the (terror) event. The state of emergency routine means that something tragic can happen anywhere, any time, to anyone, and in any way. This leads to feeling a lack of security. In the face of this, there is a wide range of ways to cope. At one extreme, some people become numb to constant stress and avoid current events and news coverage. At the opposite extreme, others follow every news detail, hypervigilant and defining every move by the odds of an attack. Experts and the public endlessly dispute the relative value of and approach at the extremes or in between. In the absence of absolute rules of how to cope, people set their own boundaries to establish their safety. One interesting example of how to do this comes from a story told by a colleague, noted trauma specialist Danny Brom. Brom described how since the intifada broke out, some Tel Aviv residents feel safe and believe that the danger lies in ­Jerusalem. When asked to express their feelings, the residents of Jerusalem say that the problem is in Gilo. The residents of Gilo believe the danger lies only on Anafa Street, and the residents of this street believe that only houses facing Beit Jalla are in danger. Those taking it one step farther believe that only houses with a kitchen facing the village are in danger. The point is that the danger is always “there,” which serves as a way to restore feeling safe “here.”

Exposure to Terror The presence of danger is real in Jerusalem, a city crowned by the Israeli population as the capitol of terror. The moniker is supported by statistics: From September 2000 to mid-February 2005, 889 terrorist attacks occurred within the Green Line (Israeli borders since 1948), killing 1,042 persons and injuring an additional 7,065. Of these, about 300 were children, half of them 15 to 17 years old (B’Tselem, n.d.). Scores of casualties are still hospitalized and in rehabilitation centers. Research on 1,500 adolescents in the city showed that more than 50 percent were directly or indirectly exposed to terror, approximately 4 percent were involved directly in a terrorist act, 20 percent lost a relative, 21 percent are acquainted with someone who was injured, and 20 percent reported that they were almost involved in the even (that is, they were present at the location where an event had



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just taken place, arrived after the event, or had planned to be at that location. The feeling of almost, the near miss, or near hit is strong and very real because the imagination easily conjures up bloody pictures of the scene. The circles of hits becomes tighter; although an acquaintance told me that he feels lucky because he does not personally know anyone who has been injured in a terrorist act, he is acquainted with many more people who do.

Range of Responses Some people cope successfully with difficult situations, recovering within a short period of time, and continuing to function in their daily life. A minority of people, however, display difficulties that linger and disrupt their ability to function at home or work. Posttraumatic disturbance is characterized by the exposure to a difficult event causing bodily harm or threatening life, and it may impact intensely on one’s coping abilities. A diagnosis of a posttraumatic disturbance is based on the subjective experience of fear, helplessness, or horror; symptoms lasting longer than one month; flashbacks or nightmares; avoiding situations or thoughts connected to a traumatic event; and feeling persistently alert, all of which interfere with normal functioning in school and interpersonal or family relationships (American Psychiatric Association, 2000).

Building Resilience in Youths One way to prevent severe symptoms from developing is to develop coping skills. This is particularly important for children, who are keenly vulnerable to the stresses of the ongoing terror. In October 2000, soon after the outbreak of the intifada, the Israel Center for the Treatment of Psychotrauma introduced a program in the schools aimed at assisting students cope with the horror that followed a lynching of two soldiers in Ramallah. Three psychologists (Dr. Danny Brom, Gafnit Agassi, and Yoel Vardi) led workshops to help teachers strengthen their coping mechanisms with methods of self-soothing, self-care, and emotional regulation that they could then teach their students. Follow-up training was held two years later. The training included techniques based on a coping model (the BASIC Ph) developed by Ayalon and Lahad (2001), from the Community Stress Prevention Center in Kiryat Shmona, who have more than 25 years experience in community interventions designed to help people build resilience. The BASIC Ph model is an acronym that describes and outlines various channels of coping and related personal resources that can be utilized. These include the beliefs (ideology or religion), the affective channel (emotional expression), the social channel (belonging to a group and social actions), the imagination channel (creation of a fantasy world), the cognitive channel (planning and adapting thought processes),

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and the physical channel (relaxation, sporting activities). By using these techniques, the teachers could achieve islands of resilience (a term coined by Lahad) while navigating the ongoing storm, basically discovering and strengthening methods of coping to restore feeling in control. The teachers described various hardships facing the ongoing terror. These included feeling guilty due to a decrease in involvement (“I am not as involved as I used to be,” “I call only close relatives”), self-­criticism (“How does it reflect on me as a person who is less caring?”), emotional conflicts, anger and frustration (“Their childhood has been taken away”), avoidance and fear (“I’m afraid to go on the trip”), hyperalertness (“I am wary of anyone boarding the bus”), hopelessness (“I don’t see the end,” “I feel as though I am lying to the children”), and somatic complaints (“I’m always tired,” “I’m always eating”). The group processes encouraged self-care and normalizing and legitimizing the teachers’ numerous and varied individual coping styles. One of the teachers summarized it well, saying that after the training she could give herself permission to turn off the television without feeling guilty or worrying that she may have lost her humanity. Helpful techniques to build resilience—“rising like the sun on the horizon” after trauma—includes building up coping enhancers such as flexibility, empathy, social support, a sense of belonging, a feeling of control, significance, belief, and hope. Other abilities to develop include comprehension, independence, creativity, interpersonal ability, initiative, morality and humor, and developing a supportive network as well as action-oriented plans and coping skills. The growing interest in understanding coping and resilience reflects the development of positive psychology, which focuses on the search for positive thinking, optimism, and empowerment.

Parents’ Impact on Children Children and adolescents generally react to terror in ways less verbal and more behavioral, compared to adults. Although it may appear that young children are oblivious to their surroundings, this may be their way of coping with the intensity of events. Therefore, parents must be aware of their children’s changes in behavior (eating, sleeping, mood) that may reflect their stress. Because children react not only to an external threat but also to parental fears, parents must be aware of how their own reactions influence their children’s reactions. Most parents continually worry, because youths in Jerusalem are continually exposed and vulnerable to terror events; they ride buses and gather in groups in the center of the city, at restaurants, or at discos. They are subject to anxieties from the real situation and also to anxieties of their parents. As a mother of two adolescents, I have noticed the limitations that I, as do other parents, place on my children’s independence, warnings I repeat, the sound of anxiety in my voice, and fears I feel that I might transfer to them. From a positive point of view, parents can mediate the significance of the events, especially for younger children, by serving as a security shell, protection



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against the stress. Parents can also serve as examples to children as to how to cope effectively with living in ongoing terror.

Identifying Child and Adolescent Posttraumatic Distress We researched the reactions of youths to the continuing terror situation to identify those experiencing posttraumatic distress and to help strengthen their coping strategies. Problems often go unnoticed because kids do not disclose their difficulties to parents; teachers, even highly dedicated ones, are not usually aware of students’ difficulties; and adolescents tend to internalize fears and are embarrassed by their weaknesses. We discovered that the most effective method is a direct screening approach by means of self-report questionnaires. About 1,500 Jerusalem junior high school and high school students answered questions pertaining to their exposure to terrorist events; feelings of fear, helplessness, and horror, including posttraumatic symptoms such as re-experiencing the events through recurring thoughts or dreams; reactions of avoidance or emotional numbness; increased alertness; unrest; and sleep problems. We investigated related emotional difficulties such as feelings of depression, complaints of physical pains, and detrimental effect on their personal, social, and educational functioning. The results showed that although 60 percent of the adolescents reported feeling fear, helplessness, and despair related to ongoing terrorist events, only about 5 percent suffered posttraumatic stress reaching a clinical level, and about 10 percent suffered partial symptoms of distress. The findings further showed that most youths are able to cope with the difficult circumstances. Some of these ways of coping included drawing strength from family and community, acceptance of the stressful situation, distraction, cognitive reframing, and being active. These results proved the need to develop tools to identify youths experiencing distress that would be overlooked, specifically targeting younger elementary school-aged children, and to develop programs that would build resilience in kindergarten and day-care children and teachers. We developed a three-prong approach for working with groups of students: increasing self-awareness, emotional expression, and support; providing skills for self-relaxation, emotional regulation, and coping abilities; and addressing symptoms of those suffering from posttraumatic reactions. The case of one 14-year-old boy is a good example of the importance of interventions to provide a more total picture of young people’s problems. The teen reported that he had never been involved in any terror event. He suffered from symptoms of posttraumatic distress, however, and was referred to an adolescent group that had been established in his school. During group discussions, he revealed that his mother had been driving her car in close proximity to a bus that exploded; his father dined regularly in a restaurant in which a suicide bombing had occurred shortly before his arrival; his cousin’s friend was killed in a terrorist act in the pedestrian mall; a shell fell in his schoolyard; his house is situated on the street used by ambulances with sirens wailing on their way to the nearby

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hospital; and over a period of several months, his neighborhood was under sniper fire. “Nothing happened to me,” he said, but then admitted, “Only almost, very close. I know that next time, it will be me.” The impact of such exposure to random, lawless, and never-ending terror, as happened to this teen, on the outlook, concept of justice, planning for the future, and assessment of dangerous and threatening situations for youths has yet to be proved by research. A connection can be made by statistics that show increased risk-taking behavior of youths, however, and a rise in violence, use of weapons, alcohol and drugs, unprotected sex, and dangerous roulette games (Pat-Horenczyk, ­Doppelt, Miron, Brom, & Chemtob, in press). Risk-taking can be seen in teens’ comments justifying taking chances, such as “If life is short, then we should make the most of it,” or defiance, such as “I would prefer to decide what to do with my life,” and not “They [terrorists] will decide for me.” Furthermore, teens’ anxiety and restlessness may be evident by their provoking exciting and dangerous situations (as counterphobic behavior). In our study, the same youths who reacted to the situation by intensifying their behavior and taking chances—for example, meeting more often in the center of town—suffered more posttraumatic distress compared to those who limited their dangerous behavior or who did not change their habits.

One Bomb, Two Different Reactions among Friends The individual reaction to a traumatic event is determined by many factors, including the severity of the situation and amount of exposure, cognitive skills, family relations, and environmental circumstances. I was keenly aware of these individual differences when I heard two different stories of friends in reaction to a bombing. Two young women were on a lunch break together from work (working between serving in the military and starting university) when the bomb exploded. Afterward, one young woman went into shock and froze, whereas the other was resourceful and acted efficiently to save their lives. One immediately sought help for her emotional distress, which she expressed openly, whereas the other kept her feelings in and went on a trip abroad, waiting a long time before confronting any of her difficulties. Both recollected the sights and sounds of the event differently. Interestingly, both criticized themselves, wondering if they could have reacted differently, and felt guilty, and each admired the other’s way of coping as more honorable and imagined that the other used personal resources and impressive abilities.

Stress for Therapists: Treatment under a Joint Threat Therapists are also living in the emergency routine. Therapists must face questions such as how are survivors of terror treated when both therapist and patient are exposed to ongoing terrorist acts? Can the patient be assisted to enable him or her to return to a regular routine, while danger is still eminent? Can trauma therapists who are exposed to trauma in their daily lives really treat the



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survivors efficiently, while keeping a safe distance? Where are they protected, or blinded, by their defense mechanisms? Where are the hidden anxieties and their denials? Helping patients deal with trauma requires therapists to be creative. In the well-known Prolonged Exposure method of treating trauma, developed by Edna Foa (Foa, Hembree, & Dancu, 2002) from the University of Pennsylvania, the treatment is based on the principles of imaginary and real exposure to the stimuli causing the anxiety and the avoidance to extinguish the anxiety and to allow adaptive and correct behavior. How can the patient be treated without being subjected to real danger? How can the patient be asked to return to the restaurant in which he was injured or board a bus without fear? A local technique is to use photographs of the location or the object causing the anxiety. These photographs protect the patient and the therapist who is worried about the patient’s health and feels responsible for his safety.

Helping the Helpers: Who Will Save the Savior? Health professionals who help victims also suffer from stress related to ongoing terrorism. Those who assist the Magen David Adom and ZAKA teams (who collect body parts of victims), medics, nurses, doctors, and therapists are all exposed to pain directly or through helping patients. Currently, there is increased awareness of the need to help the helpers or care for the caregivers, many of whom suffer from compassion fatigue (Figley, 1995). Mutual support and groups for helpers and volunteers, led by other therapists, deal with building personal resources for relaxation, venting emotions of pain and fear, and achieving balance in life.

Concluding Thoughts Addressing the ongoing nature of terrorism in therapy can prepare patients to cope better. For example, one boy whom I treated for stress over terrorism coped impressively, when faced a year-and-a-half later, with another real event in which two close friends died and his brother was seriously injured. The youth was on a bus that exploded minutes after he got off. This second time, he had a different reaction. This time he saw immediately what was happening, tried to help, and evacuated himself efficiently, as though he was on automatic pilot, knowing how to react. Of course, the long and winding road of searching for the meaning of life in the face of such events is still before him.

Note Parts of this chapter are based on a translation from an article published in Hebrew under the title of “Tomorrow It Could Be Me” in the Israeli magazine Panim (Hebrew for

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“face”), in honor of Jerusalem Day, May 2004. Panim, vol. 28, Spring 2004, pages 74–85, under the title “Next Time It Will Be Me.”

References American Psychiatric Association. (2000). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (4th ed., text rev.). Washington, DC: Author. Ayalon, O., & Lahad, M. (2001). Life on the edge 2000: Stress and coping in high risk situation. Haifa, Israel: Nord Publication (in Hebrew). B’Tselem. (n.d.). Statistics: Fatalities. Retrieved July 2006 from http://www.btselem.org/ English/Statistics/Casualties.asp Figley, C. R. (1995). Compassion fatigue as secondary traumatic stress disorder: An overview. In C. R. Figley (Ed.), Compassion fatigue: Coping with secondary traumatic disorder in those who treat the traumatized (pp. 1–20). New York: Brunner/Mazel. Foa, E. B., Hembree, E. A., & Dancu, C. V. (2002). Prolonged Exposure (PE) manual (rev. ver.). Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Pat-Horenczyk, R., Doppelt, O., Miron, T., Brom, D., & Chemtob, C. M. (in press). Risktaking behaviors among Israeli adolescents exposed to recurrent terrorism: Provoking danger under continuous threat? American Journal of Psychiatry.

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The Impact of Israel’s Separation Wall on Palestinian Mental Health Nisreen Boushieh

A survey at the Palestinian Counseling Center (PCC) in Jerusalem was conducted on the psychological implications of the construction of Israel’s Separation Wall on the residents in five villages in the Qalqilya District in the West Bank. The study, conducted between June 2004 and May 2005, assessed the impact of the Israeli wall on Palestinians, with the intention to use that information to develop programs to help decrease resulting psychological symptoms and mental disorders. Three questionnaires yielding quantitative and qualitative data addressed the psychological and social implications of the wall on those residing in the vicinity, including problems such as poverty and symptoms such as isolation and feelings of oppression. Methods of adapting to the psychological and social conditions were also measured. A random sample of 945 males and females were studied in three age groups: 314 adults aged 19 years and older, 313 adolescents aged 13 to 18 years, and 318 children between the ages of 6 and 12 years. The study was carried out in the villages of Azzoun Atmeh, Falamia, Ras Tireh, Mghara al-Dabaa, and Wadi alRasha due to the fact that these villages are most affected by the wall. The structured questionnaires, based on psychiatric literature and formal diagnostic criteria according to the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (fourth edition, 1994), included six components: general information, economical status information, exposure to the wall (distance, function, passing through), traumatic incidents faced in the past six months, psychological symptoms due to the exposure to the wall, and coping mechanisms. The research team faced some difficulties, including being prevented from entering Palestinian villages without Israeli permission; assault and humiliation at the gates of the wall, including body searches as well as searching of documents;

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and limitation of time upon entering the villages due to opening and closing of the gates at Israeli-­scheduled times. Field-workers and staff at times slept in the villages to carry out the study. The impact of the wall was examined on various levels: behavioral, cognitive, and emotional. The results showed a significant relationship between exposure to the wall and psychological symptoms for all age groups. Adults felt loneliness and displayed physical symptoms such as difficulty breathing and stomach pains. All three age groups, and especially adolescent females, showed a high rate of physical symptoms such as dizziness, rapid heart rate, and fatigue. Men older than 40 years old, in particular, showed a lack of motivation to perform daily activities, causing frustration and loss of motivation without any sense of achievement. About 6 percent of adult males and females also showed symptoms of paranoia. This feeling in males can be ascribed to loss of the source of income and capacities, including loss of land or part of land or fear of confiscation of their homes, which would harm the family. Another important finding was the high rate of emotional symptoms (especially fear and sadness), particularly in the villages of Wadi al-Rasha and Mghara al-Dabaa, where the wall had a direct impact on all economic, social, and geographic aspects of life. Fear and sadness were rated higher among females than males, with 60 percent experiencing the feelings occasionally and 19.4 percent suffering from those symptoms on a permanent basis. Adolescents and children also showed symptoms correlated to exposure to the wall, mainly aggressive behavior causing them to act violently toward other children and use impolite language as well as to manifest other mental symptoms such as nightmares. Children between ages 6 and 12 became more aggressive than previously (as reported by parents); 59 percent of males and 41 percent of females showed aggressive symptoms occasionally, whereas 9 percent of males and 6.7 percent of females showed the symptoms on a permanent basis. Further, adolescents showed symptoms of insomnia (fear of going to sleep) in case something untoward would happen. Forty percent of children (more females than males) showed symptoms of noctiphobia (fear of the night) on a permanent basis, likely related to fear of the unfamiliar and unknown, as well as fear of the future and feelings of insecurity. Other psychological states affected include basic needs for security and love, a sense of belonging, and feeling appreciated, which are major determinants of healthy self-esteem. From a physical point of view, according to the study, Palestinians can see that they are faced with an extended set of blocks of steel and concrete, surrounded by concentrations of residences, closed within iron gates, and surrounded by barbed fences. These blocks are difficult to break through, and in practical terms, people living inside them are economically isolated (cut off from employment opportunities and, therefore, sources of income); fearful about being deprived of basic needs of food, drink, and medicine; and socially isolated (frustrated in their need for a sense of belonging), which in turn commonly leads to a pervasive and existential feeling of threat and danger (creating a need for security).



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When looking at the wall from a cognitive point of view, the study indicated that the wall represents an environmental stimulant that causes emotional, behavioral, and physiological disturbances for those living within its borders. Citizens feel and sense it on a daily basis, viewing the wall as a prison, thus triggering troublesome psychological impact and symptoms. The study posed analogies between the living conditions created by the wall and a prison, based on physical, conceptual, and functional features. Both confine people and isolate them from their social surroundings, are made of cement and steel in the midst of residential concentrations, and are guarded by soldiers and monitoring devices with escapees either arrested or shot. A prison has cell doors that open at specific times to allow prisoners to go out to the yard, in the same way that the gates of the wall are opened and closed at specific times. Prisoners are forced to wear special uniforms to identify them and marginalize their personalities in the same way that all those crossing the wall are subjected to inspection, which pushes citizens to wear clothes that can be easily removed (easily removed belts, shirts, and coats and easily opened schoolbags) to accelerate the inspection process. All these factors related to the experience of the wall—factually, psychologically, and physically—are interrelated in that Palestinians respond to the wall in the following manner: the wall is an environmental stimulant (e.g., seeing the wall) that causes spontaneous ideas, thoughts, and concepts (e.g., I live in a prison), followed by emotional/behavioral or physiological responses (e.g., tension, increased heart rate, and moving away from the gate). These effects apply to adults as well as to children, to males as well as to females. Adults have a better chance of coping with, and overcoming, the negative effects of the wall, however, not only because of their maturity but also because they have passed certain developmental stages and have developed adaptation skills and formulated an independent personality that allows them some distance and perspective about a traumatic event. In comparison, children are more vulnerable because they grow up continually exposed to the event and affected on a chronic basis. The dangers are greater if adults underestimate those dangers and effects, think that the child is not really aware of his or her surroundings, or overestimate the child’s strength and ability to cope. The main coping mechanism that adults, as well as adolescents, used to deal with their reactions, according to the study results, was withdrawal (e.g., sleeping for long hours and isolating themselves from others). For children, sharing emotions and bad experiences with parents and relatives was the main adaptive technique used. Recommendations from the research team in consultation with other organizations working in the field of mental health include: 1. To develop intervention programs on the psychosocial level to support population survival needs and help people move up the pyramid postulated by psychologist Abraham Maslow, which identifies stages of development from survival to higher stages that include self-actualization.

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2. To prepare a group intervention program for youth to support their life skills and help them overcome major symptoms of poor concentration and withdrawal. 3. To do more research on developmental status of the residents and evaluate their level of relying on survival behaviors in contrast to more developed levels of functioning, such as using abstract thinking and creativity. 4. To identify symptoms in children in order not to overlook major psychological issues they might be facing and to prevent misinterpreting behaviors such as dissociation with strength.

At a recent press conference on September 26, 2005, to announce the study results, Christian Lagerlof, the regional representative of ­Diakonia, a Swedish partner funding the study, discussed the importance of the study as the first research of its kind undertaken in the West Bank and hopes that this study will have a significant effect on the field of mental health and policy recommendations integrated into mental health work in Palestine. The Palestinian Counseling Center offers a variety of counseling services to all age groups and has cooperated on a series of television programs to educate society about topics related to crisis, especially behavioral and academic difficulties in children. The center has also produced a guide for parents dealing with children in crisis (including fears, bed-wetting, violence, depression, and understanding death).

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Israelis and Palestinians Speak Out about Violence and Peace: Public Opinion Polls, 2000–2006 Vani Murugesan

To have a deeper understanding of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, it is essential to put the relevant issues in context by assessing people’s attitudes and opinions about them. This chapter analyzes 29 public opinion polls and surveys of several thousand Israelis and Palestinians living in Israel, the West Bank, and Gaza, focusing on three areas: the use of violence, peace and reconciliation, and Palestinian politics, including Hamas’s win in the January 2006 elections. The polls were conducted by several organizations, including the Palestinian Center for Policy and Survey Research (PSR), the Tami Steinmetz Center for Peace Research, and the Jerusalem Media and Communication Center (JMCC).1

Opinions on Violence Violence between Israelis and Palestinians typically follows a pattern of cyclical retribution, with suicide bombings or other violent attacks incurring attacks from the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF), which, in turn, lead to more Palestinian attacks. When looking at Palestinian public opinion, however, it becomes clear that support for violence is more complicated than a knee-jerk reaction. Violence often occurs between armed settlers or the Israeli soldiers protecting them and Palestinians in the territories (United Nations Economic and Social Council, 2001; Westcott, 2004). Palestinian support for armed attacks against Israeli soldiers and settlers in the Occupied Palestinian Territories (OPT) has remained consistently high, ranging from 86 percent to 92 percent over the years (PSR, 2000–2004). Such support is indicative of the view that attacks are justified as armed struggle against a military occupation. Consistent with resistance to occupation, settlers are viewed far more negatively than civilians living within

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Israel, as the existence of settlements is viewed as threatening the possibility of a Palestinian state. Support for violence against Israeli civilians, however, fluctuates as a function of the current political context. Violence is more likely to be opposed when the Palestinian democratic process is perceived as effective, rather than undemocratic or inefficient at addressing popular needs. As the Oslo Accords began and the Palestinian Authority assumed leadership over Palestinian territories, opposition to violence increased greatly as peace seemed tangible. The failure of the peace accords, the outbreak of the Al-Aqsa intifada, and the perception that the Palestinian Authority was both corrupt and incapable of negotiating a successful settlement led to widespread disillusionment with the political process (Shikaki, 2006). The Hamas political party began to be viewed more positively, because it did not support the accords, and was known for its perceived commitment to providing social services and lack of financial corruption. When the prospect of peace seemed dismal, support for Fatah dropped, support for Hamas grew, and support for violence against Israeli civilians reached its highest, 58 percent, in late 2001 (PSR, 2001). During the most turbulent days of the Al-Aqsa intifada, support for violence seemed to reflect retaliation, with Palestinians responding to Israeli strikes with attacks of their own, and vice versa. Although violent confrontations against Israelis are still supported, such support has been on the decline (Shikaki, 2006). Between 2001 and 2002, Palestinian support for the suicide bombing of Israeli civilians dropped from 58 percent to 52 percent. This may seem like a small difference, but March 2002 marked the reoccupation of the OPT, which resulted in many Palestinian deaths; given the retaliatory nature of the conflict, one would expect support to increase (PSR, 2001– 2002). According to human rights groups, although Palestinians opposed to suicide bombing have been afraid to speak out because of the fear of being viewed as siding with the Israeli government, sources from the OPT indicate that debates among Palestinians about the morality of suicide bombing are increasing, particularly since March 2002 (Amnesty International, 2002; Human Rights Watch, 2002). Although opposition to a suicide attack in Beer Shiva in September 2004 was fairly low at 33 percent, 67 percent of Palestinians surveyed opposed a March 2005 Tel Aviv suicide attack, indicating a shift in opposition to violence. The latter attack occurred in the midst of strong Palestinian hope to move forward with a democratic peace process, with Abu Mazin as the new president after Yasir Arafat’s death. When asked about support for violent attacks in the context of Israeli withdrawal from Gaza or both Gaza and the West Bank, 60 percent to 66 percent of Palestinians oppose such attacks (PSR, 2005). Given these findings, it appears that violence is more likely to be supported when other venues of change, like democracy, do not exist or are not effective (Shikaki, 2006). What does remain stable is an uncertainty about how the Palestinian Authority should attempt to stop those who carry out violent attacks, including suicide bombings. From the Oslo period to the present, Palestinians support measures



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to crack down on would-be attackers but fear that this will lead to internal conflict (PSR, 2005). This fear may be due to uncertainty about the peace process or memories of arbitrary and inhumane ways that Palestinian Authority security forces went about cracking down on this violence in the past, such as arresting without warrants, torturing, and holding secret trials without fair access to attorneys (Human Rights Watch, 1997). According to research conducted by the Tami Steinmetz Center for Peace Research, the Israeli Jewish majority is somewhat doubtful of the ability or desire of the Palestinian Authority to prevent violence against Israelis, with most believing that Palestinians have not accepted Israel’s existence and would destroy it if possible. This, no doubt, underlies the majority view that Israel’s retaliatorystrike policy is appropriate or even too weak a response to Palestinian violence. At the same time, however, the majority of Israelis want to continue with negotiations and to create a Palestinian state (Yaar & Hermann, 2005). Although the need for their security remains great, Israelis have become more skeptical of their own government’s policies and use of violence. In 2002, during a particularly violent period of the intifada, a majority of Israelis surveyed believed that Israel’s observance of human rights in the OPT had deteriorated since the second intifada began (PSR, 2002). Seventy percent of Israelis want stricter policies against extreme settlers living in Gaza and the West Bank, whose actions are sometimes violent or provocative, and a slim majority also do not believe the Israeli government is strict enough in enforcing the rule of law against these settlers. Israeli support for the dismantling of settlements in the territories has increased from 30 percent in 2000 to 67 percent in 2005. Twothirds of Israelis also support stopping demolitions of Palestinian homes and infrastructure (PSR, 2003). Although security continues to be a concern, Israelis rate job creation, health care, and education as more important than national security in terms of government spending (PSR, 2003).

Peace and Reconciliation Particularly striking is the extent to which Israelis and Palestinians are similar in wanting peace and reconciliation but are pessimistic about this ever actually occurring. At all points in time in the PSR polls, both sides overwhelmingly support the mutual cessation of violence and peace and reconciliation between Israelis and Palestinians. Israelis are somewhat less pessimistic than Palestinians and are less likely to think that there is no a chance of reconciliation; in 2005, 41 percent of Israelis expected reconciliation within the next 10 years, compared to 24 percent of Palestinians. Although this is still a minority, it is an increase for both groups (PSR, 2005). Palestinian willingness to compromise in a peace settlement for a two-state solution has been steadily increasing. A majority of both Israelis and Palestinians support the two-state solution to the conflict, with establishment of a Palestinian state and mutual recognition of Israel as a Jewish state and Palestine as a

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Palestinian state (Shikaki, 2006). Each group thinks that the majority of their own side does not hold this opinion, however, and both groups think that the majority of the other side does not hold this opinion (PSR, 2003). When Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon announced plans to unilaterally disengage from the Gaza Strip in November 2003, both Israelis and Palestinians supported this plan, although both sides feared that the pullout could lead to chaos and security problems that the Palestinian Authority would not be able to handle. Palestinians differ from Israelis in that they view disengagement as a victory for armed struggle, whereas the Israelis see disengagement as a unilateral decision made by Sharon. Despite this view, the pullout has actually led to a decrease in Palestinian support for violent attacks. This may be because disengagement has caused a shift in priorities from nationalism to reconstructing the Gaza Strip and rebuilding the economy (PSR, 2005). Although Palestinians want and think there will be further disengagement in the West Bank, the Israeli public is split between either wanting more disengagement or no extensive disengagement in the West Bank at all (Yaar & Hermann, 2005).

Palestinian Politics The death of Yasir Arafat in November 2004 marked a turning point for both Israelis and Palestinians, resulting in wide-scale support for a cease-fire, increased support for the Road Map to Peace, and opposition to attacks launched from Gaza after Israeli disengagement from the area (PSR, 2004). Arafat’s death was accompanied by a huge increase in support for his party, Fatah, and a decrease in support for Hamas, who had decided to boycott the elections to select a new president. Both sides viewed Arafat’s death as a possibility to resume negotiations, with each side believing their own political leaders strong enough to forge a peace agreement (PSR, 2004). Israelis approach Palestinian elections with intense interest, strongly believing that democracy in the Palestinian Authority is in the best interest of both peoples. Israelis, however, are consistently more pessimistic than Palestinians of the probability of actually establishing a Palestinian Authority democracy (PSR, 2004).

Hamas’s Win in the January 2006 Elections As the second intifada continued, Palestinians began to observe more lawlessness and chaos and to feel more anxious about their personal safety. This is reflected in public opinion polls that show that in the January 2005 elections voters placed poverty and unemployment at the top of their priorities rather than the occupation and reported that their families did not feel safe (PSR, 2005). Hamas’s win in the January 2006 elections does not translate to full endorsement of the party’s tenets; Palestinians still want the peace process to move forward, but they view the situation as stagnated and are currently more concerned with economic conditions. The reason Palestinians surveyed most often gave for voting for Hamas in 2006 was a desire to end corruption, and most did not expect Hamas to



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win a majority in the Legislative Council and to be put in the position of naming a prime minister (JMCC, 2006). Part of the surprise outcome of Hamas’s victory may be explained by the fact that several Fatah candidates ran independently from each other, splitting the Fatah vote into smaller percentages. If votes for all Fatah candidates were added together, then 56 percent of the vote can be considered to have gone to the Fatah Party—constituting a win of the popular vote— compared to 44 percent of votes to Hamas (PSR, 2006). The majority of Palestinians, however, were at the time optimistic about the new Palestinian Legislative Council and wanted the new government to continue with peace negotiations. A majority of Israelis do not think Hamas will ever recognize Israel and think the prospect of reaching a peace settlement with a Hamas-led government is slim. Because of this, they support the completion of the separation wall being built in the West Bank as a means of ensuring security. Israelis, however, do not uniformly view Hamas’s win as an immediate threat to Israel. About half the Israelis surveyed think that Hamas will decrease violent attacks, and slightly less than half think that Hamas was legitimately elected as the representative of the Palestinian people and that negotiations with them should go forth (Yaar & Hermann, 2006). Many Palestinians, in fact, view Hamas’s decision to participate in recent elections as potentially indicative of movement toward moderation, given their history of boycotting elections and undermining the Palestinian Authority (PSR, 2006). Both sides appear to have a wait-and-see perspective on what a Hamas-led government will do next, especially as even the party itself did not foresee success in the election. The Israeli-Palestinian conflict is often viewed as particularly difficult because of the perception that there is a complete unwillingness on either side to recognize the other or to relinquish historical claims to all the land in question. This review of polls and surveys, however, indicates that the opinions of Israelis and Palestinians about the conflict are more nuanced than black-and-white. Although the two sides may disagree on specific issues, optimistically, one can view these data as suggesting that Israelis and Palestinians agree on more than what might be expected; for example, there is strong mutual desire to create a peace settlement that works for both sides. In many ways, a peace agreement may be more probable now that both sides better agree than at any other point in time.

Note 1.  Number of respondents for each individual poll ranged from several hundred to more than 1,000. Interpretation of results is sometimes based on summary across multiple polls.

References Amnesty International. (2002, February.) Without distinction: Attacks on civilians by Palestinian armed groups. Retrieved October 10, 2002, from http://web.amnesty. org/library/index/ENGMDE020032002

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Human Rights Watch. (1997). Palestinian self-rule areas: Human rights under the Palestinian Authority (Vol. 9). New York: Author. Human Rights Watch. (2002). Erased in a moment: Suicide bombing attacks against Israeli civilians. Retrieved February 15, 2006 from http://hrw.org/reports/2002/isrl-pa/ Jerusalem Media and Communication Center (JMCC). (2006, February). Poll results on Palestinian attitudes towards the results of the PLC elections held on January 25, 2006. Retrieved February 20, 2006, from http://www.jmcc.org/publicpoll/ results/2006/no57.pdf Palestinian Center for Policy and Survey Research (PSR). (2000–2006). Public opinion polls. Retrieved February 15, 2006, from http://www.pcpsr.org/survey Shikaki, K. (2006). Willing to compromise: Palestinian public opinion and the peace process. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace. United Nations Economic and Social Council. (2001, October 4). Question of the violation of human rights in the occupied Arab territories, including Palestine. Retrieved September 8, 2002, from http://www.un.org/documents/ga/docs/56/a56440.pdf Westcott, K. (2004). Settlement block on road to peace. Retrieved February 25, 2006, from http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/middle_east/2962028.stm Yaar, E., & Hermann, T. (2005–2006). Peace indices. Retrieved February 15, 2006, from http://www.tau.ac.il/peace/

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Terror at Home and Abroad: Israeli Reactions to International Incidents of Violence Judy Kuriansky, Lisa Bagenstose, Michele Hirsch, Abraham A. Burstein, and Yahel Tsaidi

In the climate of the current intifada, residents of Israel live with the constant threat of terror and outbreaks of violence. Stories about how their lives have changed have common elements. Devora, a 21-year-old student whose best friend was killed at the beginning of the intifada, is now afraid to walk in the streets. Nineteen-year-old David cannot study because of terrifying mental images ever since he witnessed two suicide bombings. Sheila’s parents are so worried about her that they call five times each day and want her to carry a gun.1 A survey was done to assess the impact of the Palestinian-Israeli conflict on the emotions and relationships of a group of students living in Jerusalem, a city that has been the scene of much violence. Their reactions to the situation on home ground was compared to their reaction to violence abroad, namely, the September 11, 2001, attack on the World Trade Center in New York City (9/11), to determine differences in the aftermath of locally based terror compared to terror events abroad.2 The participants filled out a self-report questionnaire about their reactions to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the 9/11 terrorist attack.3 Questions elicited descriptive as well as quantitative responses, the latter of which were scored on a scale of 1 to 7 of progressive intensity, with 7 reflecting the highest intensity.4 The questions were based on standard issues in research about traumatic events and assessed exposure, impact of the events, emotional reactions, and resilience. Data collected from a similar sample living in New York was compared to the Israeli sample to determine differences in reactions to locally based terror or terror events abroad.

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Distress in Israel The current survey revealed that an extremely large percentage of the Israeli sample rated the Israeli-Palestinian conflict as extremely important to them and having a considerable impact on their lives.5 More than three-quarters of the sample rated the event as affecting them personally to a great extent (i.e., a rating of 6 or higher on the scale of 1 to 7), and 61 percent reported that it affected them severely. An even higher number of subjects (89%) rated the event as extremely important in their life. Respondents rated the conflict as affecting others close to them even slightly more severely than it affected themselves (a mean rating of 6.7 compared to 6.3, respectively). This is consistent with observations about the collective experience in Israeli society in which terrorism has become part of the so-called emergency routine of daily life, communication, and interaction among families and their social circle (Pat-Horenczyk, 2006). Self-reports of negative feelings as a result of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict further support findings about the strong impact of the conflict. Overall, 8 out of 10 respondents described a moderate to severe level of these types of emotions. Subjects reported, in relative order of intensity, high scores of anger (6.4), anxiety (6.1), depression (5.7), fear (5.6), and distrust (5.6). Also mentioned were hopelessness and feeling more suspicious about others as well as paying more attention to people and events. Similar results were found in a telephone survey of 510 participants in Israel in 2002, measuring effects of exposure to terrorism, in which more than three-quarters of those surveyed reported at least one symptom of distress, with depression being commonly reported (Bleich, Gelkopf, & Solomon, 2003). Fear is a predominant reaction to intractable conflicts (Bar-Tal, 2001) and was the emotion most clarified by subjects in the present survey. Many respondents described feeling restricted in their daily activities, such as going out, walking in the streets, or driving. Examples of responses included, “constant fear when walking around,” “fear about going to places,” “fear that something will happen,” “fear of being killed”; being “scared to go out so often,” “careful and worried,” “not comfortable being outside,” “not going out so often,” “not driving on every road”; and “thinking twice about going anywhere.” One participant’s response that “fear is always in the back of your mind, the fear of being killed” is consistent with other reports that living in the region creates a constant state of being on alert. In nearly 2 out of 10 cases, these types of negative emotions, including fears, were severe enough for the respondent or family members to seek counseling, giving some indication of just how disruptive these types of events can be. Others thought counseling would be helpful.

Importance of Security Restoring personal safety and national security in the aftermath of trauma and terrorism is important (Arian, 1989; Hart, Scalise, Sunwolf, & Honos-Webb, 2006;



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Traugott et al., 2002). The present survey shows that 83 percent of the Israeli sample reported a considerably high need for safety and security as a result of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The event abroad incurred less worry, though still more than a moderate degree, with subjects acknowledging that they live in an insecure world in statements like, “I realized we are even less secure than I thought, since anything can happen,” and “You cannot escape terrorism; it can reach anywhere, so security is important.” Two subjects mentioned carrying firearms for protection (one by herself and the other by family members).

Impact of Event at Home versus Abroad The event close to home (the Israeli-Palestinian conflict) had significantly greater impact and importance for the respondents living in Jerusalem than the event geographically more distant (9/11). All participants considered the local event of moderate to severe importance, compared to fewer than half who rated the event abroad (9/11) of equal importance. Responses included, “9/11 didn’t affect me because it didn’t seem real” and “There are so many problems in Israel, it is hard to be concerned about the effects in so many places.” Personal exposure to the event likely affects this rating, because every Israeli respondent knew one or more people killed in the home event, but far fewer knew anyone who worked at the World Trade Center or died in the attack, and, if so, the victims were more distant relations (e.g., a friend’s brother, a cousin’s neighbor’s son) than those injured or killed in the local event (e.g., a brother, close friends).

Impact on Relationships Research on terror management theory (TMT) suggests that concerns about human mortality affect a broad range of socially significant behaviors, including influencing interpersonal evaluations (Greenberg, Solomon, & Pyszczynski, 1997). It has further been suggested that terror events bond people in closer personal and community relationships and that the collective group offers support in such times (Kuriansky, 2002, 2003a, 2003b; Steinert, 2003). The results of one study showed that people with the strongest survivor reactions to the 9/11 terror attack were the most likely to respond by valuing their family and friends more and getting involved in community (H. A. Wayment, personal communication, April 17, 2006). For half of the Israeli sample, relationships with family and friends got stronger—to a moderate degree or higher—as a result of the conflict close to home. Friends and family paid “closer attention to who’s important” and became closer because “you don’t know when your day will come.” Subjects reported wanting more closeness in intimate relationships because “there may not be much time to waste” and “with so much bad in the world, I want to love someone.” Parents were more worried about children’s whereabouts, and families increased use of cell phones—behavior widely reported anecdotally. Conversations focused more

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on the conflict, including arguments over political opinions and safety precautions (one subject’s father insisted he “not drive on every road”). The vast majority of Israeli respondents reported that relationships with family and friends were not as affected by the terrorism event abroad as by the conflict at home.

Exposure The impact of a terror event has been shown to be related to geographic closeness (Schuster et al., 2001); this is consistent with the present findings. The degree of exposure to a traumatic event has also been shown to be related to its impact, consistent with present findings of the high impact of terrorism on the Israeli sample and reports by every respondent of closeness to victims, closeness of relationships with a high number of victims, and awareness of the local terrorism for at least four years, if not since childhood.

View of the World Research on terror management theory has also shown that concerns about human mortality—called mortality salience—lead to reviews of one’s cultural system and seeking answers to universal cosmological questions about identity, meaning in life, and religious beliefs (Greenberg et al., 1997). Consistent with this, Israelis in the current sample mentioned that the terrorist events made them aware of the transience of life (“Life can slip away at any time”). In addition, half of the respondents reported changing their view of the world in reaction to both the local and distant life-threatening events, including becoming fatalistic (“Whatever happens is meant to happen,” “There is no solution,” and “Control is fiction”), more faith-based (“You can only depend on God”), and frustrated (that the world is “crazy,” “makes no sense,” and is filled with “madness”). Almost three-quarters of the Israelis in the current survey said they felt more connected to humanity as a result of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The most common observation was that “we all are together” (except some mentioned excluding those “who hate us” and “are anti-Semitic”). The event abroad also made Israelis feel considerably more connected to humanity, although to a lesser extent when compared to the home event (reflected in their score of 5.0 compared to 5.7, respectively, on the scale of 1 to 7 reflecting intensity of reaction). Subjects reported feeling sad for those affected by 9/11 and coming to the realization that terrorism is ongoing all over the world (e.g., “The whole world is in the same situation. . . . I am not alone here in Israel”), that friends can disappear in a moment, that “Americans can now sympathize with Israelis more,” and that they “can help others move on with a normal life.” One respondent resolved to be a better human being; another hoped that others would “learn to be more human.”



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Residual Trauma Research has shown that the aftereffects of traumatic events can be longlasting, manifesting in symptoms years afterward and even increasing in severity over time. In one survey of 613 Americans, 11 percent reported being “more shaken” and 37 percent were “still shaken” a year after 9/11 (Traugott, 2002). That stress in Israel is high even in times of fewer incidents of violence was shown by a national telephone survey of 1,394 individuals conducted in 1995 that showed that 27 percent of the adult population experienced “emotional distress or mental health problems” that they had difficulty “coping with alone” at some point in their lives, and 13 percent reported that they felt this way during 1995 (a period when the first intifada had subsided). The present results, showing significant distress years after the outbreak of the intifada and the 9/11 attacks, confirm the long-lasting impact of such events.

Resilience and Coping Strategies Recognizing that individuals can display considerable ability to cope in the face of trauma and despite significant distress is recently of great interest in the field of traumatology (Bonanno, 2004; APA, 2002). Despite intense emotional reactions and high exposure to terrorism, the Israeli respondents’ self-reports still indicated self-perceptions of resilience. Sixty-one percent of subjects said they could cope significantly well with crises in general and with the Israeli-Palestinian conflict specifically. Half of the subjects said they were considerably capable of bouncing back. One subject mentioned, “There is no such thing as ‘bouncing back’ when you live in daily fear.” One particular coping strategy mentioned most often was talking about feelings. Also reported were acceptance and fate (“What will happen will happen,” “It’s in G-d’s hands”), thought-control (“not thinking about it”), reorganizing priorities (“Peace and love are most important,” “Think of people in your life”), and attitudinal adaptation (“thinking of the best that can be taken from the situation”). Although some subjects mentioned avoidance behaviors—for example, not taking rides with strangers or going to particular public places—others reported purposefully going to public areas targeted by terrorism in efforts to support businesses affected by terrorism or to regain control in the face of an unpredictable environment (which can be interpreted as self-management, defiance, or even counterphobic behavior).

Case Examples A 23-year-old single Israeli Orthodox female student whose brother was killed in the Intifada—for which her family went into counseling—reports an extremely high level of emotional reactions as a result of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, in-

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cluding fears of terrorist attacks such that she “thinks twice before going anywhere.” She feels shut down emotionally as a result of the conflict but desires to have more intimacy in her relationship, although her significant other is not coping well with the current crisis, causing problems in their relationship. A 21-year-old single Orthodox/Hasidic male Israeli who is a U.S. citizen living in Israel had a close friend who was killed as a result of the intifada, which is always in the “back of his mind” and makes him fearful when he walks around anywhere. He says that the conflict has “broken many homes and people who [sic] I love” but made him want to be closer in his relationships because “you don’t know when your day will come.” He and his family members have different political opinions that create arguments, “but in a loving way.” He feels more connected to humanity except for “Palestinian fanatics.” He has family in New York and a close friend’s brother died on 9/11, so he feels depressed and angry over the World Trade Center attack. His grandmother moved to Israel afterward to be closer to the family. He tries to keep a positive outlook, stating that, “After something like that, you learn that life is so important that there is no time to fight, only to love each other,” and saying, “You have to believe that it is going to get better.” A 19-year-old female Israeli student who lives with her family feels she can help others “move on with their normal life” after 9/11 because she knows what others are going through. Because friends have died as a result of the intifada, she feels depressed, angry, and “cannot stop from thinking about revenge” but copes by talking about her feelings. She and her parents call each other more often for reassurance that they are safe.

Comparison to Americans The Israeli respondents rated the importance and impact of their local conflict higher than the New Yorkers’ equivalent ratings of their hometown terrorist incident (9/11). Israelis also showed more intense emotional reactions to the event occurring on foreign (U.S.) soil than Americans felt in reaction to the equivalent geographically distant event (the Israeli-Palestinian conflict). Specifically, 33 percent of the Israeli sample rated 9/11 as of at least considerable importance to them, compared to 23 percent of New Yorkers, who rated the IsraeliPalestinian tensions as equally important. The higher sensitivity of the Israelis to terror even on foreign ground may be explained by their more frequent exposure (and, therefore, alertness) to terror events consistent with high levels of personal loss and higher ratings of impact and importance of homegrown terror. In addition, the intifada can be considered an ongoing event compared with the 9/11 attack, which was a single event that occurred in the past (although threats of terrorism in the United States have been increasing over time). That Americans have been affected by their local terrorism event (9/11) has been well documented (Lating, Sherman, Everly, Lowry, & Peragine, 2004; Sil-



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ver, Holman, McIntosh, Poulin, & Gil-Rivas, 2002). The present sample of those living in Jerusalem gave higher ratings of being emotionally more affected by their local event than the sample living in New York when rating the 9/11 attacks. The strongest emotional reaction of Jerusalem residents to local terror was anger, compared to anxiety being the strongest emotional reaction of New Yorkers. Both New York and Jerusalem residents reported that relationships with family and friends became stronger in response to their local event but were less impacted by the event abroad. Similarly, both the New York and Jerusalem interviewees showed a high desire to be closer in their relationships as a result of the local terror event. Similar explanations given for this desire for more closeness included realizations that life may be short and people should be more valued. More intensive examination of the impact of terror events on intimate relations is in progress, examining attachment needs and styles. Concerning security in response to terrorism, Jerusalem residents were as worried about security as a result of the event in New York as were New York residents. But Jerusalem residents were more worried than New Yorkers about the event abroad. Specifically, New Yorkers were less worried about security as a result of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict than Israelis were as a result of 9/11. Media exposure can affect the impact of terrorism on individuals (Traugott et al., 2002) but also can be related to the importance of the event. An extremely high percentage of the Israeli sample paid considerable attention to the news about their local terror (94%) as well as about terror abroad (73%), whereas a high percentage of the U.S. sample paid attention to news about their local event (83%) compared to far fewer (47%) who followed news about the conflict abroad. The relative availability of news about these events obviously affects this result, because U.S. news has been criticized for its lack of international coverage.

Influence of Ethnic/Religious Affiliation Nearly all the Israeli sample was Orthodox and rated religion as very important in their life. This rating, coupled with the intensity of response to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict rated by the Israeli sample, lends support to the hypothesis that ethnic/religious affiliation is related to the intensity of reaction to terror events. Another finding that supports this relationship is that ratings by the subsample of Jewish respondents in New York were more similar to the ratings of the Israeli sample than to ratings of the non-Jewish individuals. For example, 83 percent of the Jewish subjects in New York rated the Israeli-Palestinian conflict as considerably important, similar to 89 percent of the Israeli sample and far greater than only a quarter of the non-Jewish subsample. Similarly, more than half of the Jewish subsample reported their lives as moderately or severely impacted by the Israeli-Palestinian event (more similar to the high ratings of the Israeli sample) compared to less than 1 in 10 of the non-Jewish group who rated

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themselves as impacted by that conflict. Further, Jewish subjects in the U.S. sample reported considerable to severe levels of anger (6.0), fear (5.7), and anxiety (5.3), closer to ratings of the Israeli sample and more than double the intensity of those emotional reactions reported by the non-Jewish respondents (with respective scores of 2.9, 2.1, and 2.1). This difference is understandable when considering that a far greater number of the Jewish respondents than the non-Jewish respondents in the United States (i.e., 17% compared to 2%) knew someone who died in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. In a study that supports these findings—that similarity to victims affects how people respond to disaster or war—people who reported feeling similar to the victims and empathic toward the survivors were more likely to suffer from grief and so-called survivor reactions, such as guilt and anxiety about the future (H. A. Wayment, personal communication, April 4, 2006). Recent interest has focused on social, national, or ethnic/racial identity and perceived similarity of groups in the face of traumatic events that are significant to individuals or that pose national threat (Goodwin, 2002). The influence of these factors can be seen within Israel, as was shown by Ponizovsky et al., (1998), who found that immigrant groups in Israel display different levels of distress. Although identity has been shown to affect attitudes and behavior, it can be categorized along various dimensions—national, social, cultural, political, religious, or ethnic—as well as described as internalized subjective identity or subjective group membership, with the result that not everyone identifies similarly to ethnic or racial groups (Huddy, 2001; Huddy, Feldman, Capelos, & Provost, 2002). Much research remains to be done to explore the nature of the relationship between these different identifications as well as their association to level of distress in countries affected by terror events.

Other Factors to Consider Certain factors that likely affect the present results should be considered. These include the degree of religiosity (considering that the Jerusalem sample consisted entirely of Orthodox Jews, whereas the U.S. Jews did not report themselves as equally religious); varying time periods after the onset of the events; and gender, because the present Israeli respondents were predominantly female, and women have been shown to suffer more symptoms of stress from terror events than males (Traugott, 2002). The differing nature of the events (the ongoing Israeli-Palestinian conflict versus the single 9/11 event) is also a factor because research has distinguished the impact from Type I trauma (resulting from a single traumatic event) to Type II trauma (which occurs after long-standing or repeated exposure to trauma) and to a more complex Type III trauma (which results when an individual experiences multiple, pervasive, violent events beginning at an early age and continuing over a long period of time (Solomon & Heide, 1999). Further investigation is warranted about the effect on reactions to terrorism of national and ethnic identity as well as political affiliation. In one study of young students’ reactions to a series of terror attacks and the assassination of Israeli Prime Minister



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Yitzhak Rabin, the intensity of emotional reactions was affected by political orientation; although Rabin’s supporters and his opponents reacted with equal intensity to the terror attacks, supporters reacted with the same intensity to Rabin’s assassination, whereas opponents’ reactions to the assassination were less intense (Raviv, Sadeh, Raviv, Silberstein, & Diver, 2000).

Conclusions The present pilot study shows the strong impact, high level of importance, as well as wide range and high degree of emotional reactions to terror events at home reported by a sample of respondents living in Jerusalem and under a constant state of threats of terrorism in Israel. These reactions are more intense compared with reactions of survey participants living in New York in response to the terror event on their home ground (the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001). Israelis also tend to report being more affected by the terror event on foreign soil than those living in the United States. The impact of remote terror events increases when the subjects are more similar in religious association, as shown by the fact that Jewish New Yorkers rated the impact, importance, and their emotional reactions to both at-home and abroad events more similarly to the Israeli residents than did non-Jewish New Yorkers. Even though subjects in Israel perceive themselves as resilient in the face of terrorism, their distress is evident in moderate to high levels of anger, anxiety, and depression. Consistent with this, these respondents express a desire for more security and more closeness in their relationships. Further cross-cultural study of the effects of terror events is warranted, with larger scientifically selected samples, to assess the comparative impact of various violent events on different nationalities and ethnic/religious groups (especially including a Palestinian and Arab sample). Health services, educational institutions, nongovernmental organizations, and political groups could benefit from knowledge about the relative impact of local and international terror events to help communities cope, to facilitate positive international relations, and to plan for a more peaceful future free from such violent events.

Notes 1.  Identifying information has been changed to protect individuals’ confidentiality. 2.  Local terror events are defined as incidences or ongoing conflict involving terrorism occurring in the participants’ home ground, and a terror event abroad was defined as occurring on foreign soil. 3.  Of 60 Israeli students in the original sample, the present analyses were based on a subsample of 18 available questionnaires. All but one of the subjects were female, all of whom were Orthodox Jewish and involved in religious studies and almost all of whom were Israeli citizens, although some held dual citizenship. The most frequently reported age was 21. The sample in the United States included 83 respondents, all of whom were living in the metropolitan New York area at the time of the survey, 94 percent of whom were U.S. citizens, 12 percent of whom were Jewish, and 89 percent

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of whom were female, with 23 years old as the most frequently reported age. Present results indicate face validity, but further study should be based on a larger, representative sample rather than a convenience sample. 4.  A rating of 4 on the continuous scale of 1 to 7 is considered moderate; a score of 5 or higher on the scale of 1 to 7 is referred to as considerable, and a score of 6 or higher is considered severe or an extreme degree. Importance and impact were rated according to the subject’s overall perception of that concept. 5.  References to the Israeli–Palestinian conflict and the results refer specifically to the conflict between Jewish Israelis and Palestinians.

References APA. (2002). The road to resilience. Retrieved February 14, 2006, from http://www. apahelpcenter.org/featuredtopics/feature.php?id56&ch54 Arian, A. (1989). A people apart: Coping with the national security problem in Israel. Journal of Conflict Resolution, 33, 605–631. Bar-Tal, D. (2001). Why does fear override hope in societies engulfed by intractable conflict, as it does the Israeli society? Political Psychology, 22, 601–627. Bleich, A., Gelkopf, M., & Solomon, Z. (2003). Exposure to terrorism, stress-related mental health symptoms and coping behaviors among a nationally representative sample in Israel. Journal of the American Medical Association, 290, 612–620. Bonanno, G. (2004). Loss, trauma, and human resilience: Have we underestimated the human capacity to thrive after extremely aversive events?” American Psychologist, 59, 20–28. Goodwin, S. (2002). Racial attitudes: American identity under siege. In R. Clay, Research on 9/11: What psychologists have learned so far. Monitor on Psychology, 33, 29. Greenberg, J., Solomon, S., & Pyszczynski, T. (1997). Terror management theory of selfesteem and social behavior: Empirical assessments and conceptual refinements. In M. P. Zanna (Ed.), Advances in experimental social psychology (Vol. 29, pp. 61–139). New York: Academic Press. Hart, S., Scalise, J. T., Sunwolf, & Honos-Webb, L. (2006). How to help after national catastrophes: Findings following 9/11. The Humanistic Psychologist, 34, 75–97. Huddy, L. (2001). From social to political identity: A critical examination of social identity theory. Political Psychology, 22, 127–156. Huddy, L., Feldman, S., Capelos, T., & Provost, C. (2002). The consequences of terrorism: Disentangling the effects of personal and national threat. Political Psychology, 23, 485–509. Kuriansky, J (2002, September 8). Love in the time of terrorism. South China Morning Post, p. 9. Kuriansky, J. (2003a, July 22). Coping in a time of crisis. New York Daily News. Kuriansky, J. (2003b). The 9/11 terrorist attack on the World Trade Center: A New York psychologist’s personal experiences and professional perspective. Psychotherapie Forum, 11, 36–47. Lating, J. M., Sherman, M. F., Everly, G. S., Jr., Lowry, J. L., & Peragine, T. F. (2004). PTSD reaction and functioning of American Airlines flight attendants in the wake of September 11. Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease, 192, 435–441. Pat-Horenczyk, R. (2006). Terror in Jerusalem: Israelis coping with “emergency routine.” In J. Kuriansky (Ed.), Terror in the holy land: Inside the anguish of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict (pp. 67–74). Westport, CT: Praeger.



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Ponizovsky, A., Ginath, Y., Durst, R., Wondimeneh, B., Safro, S., Minuchin-Itzigson, S., et al. (1998). Psychological distress among Ethiopian and Russian Jewish immigrants to Israel: A cross-cultural study. International Journal of Social Psychiatry, 44, 35–45. Raviv, A., Sadeh, A., Raviv, A., Silberstein, O., & Diver, O. (2000). Young Israelis’ reactions to national trauma: The Rabin assassination and terror attacks. Political Psychology, 21, 299–322. Schuster, M. A., Stein, B. D., Jaycox, L. X., Collins, R. I., Marshall, G. M., Elliot, M. N., et al. (2001). A national survey of stress reaction after September 11, 2001, terrorist attacks. New England Journal of Medicine, 345, 1507–1512. Silver, R. C., Holman, E. A., McIntosh, D. N., Poulin, M., & Gil-Rivas, V. (2002). Nationwide longitudinal study of psychological responses to September 11. Journal of the American Medical Association, 288, 1235–1244. Solomon, E., & Heide, K. (1999). Type III trauma: Toward a more effective conceptualization of psychological trauma. International Journal of Offender Therapy and Comparative Criminology, 43, 202–210. Steinert, H. (2003). Unspeakable September 11th: Taken-for-granted assumptions, selective reality construction and populist politics. International Journal of Urban and Regional Research, 27, 651–665. Traugott, M. (2002). Reactions to terrorism: Attitudes and anxieties. In R. Clay (Ed.), Research on 9/11: What psychologists have learned so far. Monitor on Psychology, 33, 28–35. Traugott, M., Brader, T., Coral, D., Curtin, R., Featherman, D., Groves, R., et al (2002). How Americans responded: A study of public reactions to 9/11/01. American Political Science Review, 35, 511–516.

part ii

Psychosocial Issues in the Conflict

This part presents chapters that address key psychosocial issues that underlie the conflict between the Israelis and Palestinians. These issues include revenge, humiliation, imbalance of power (i.e., “asymmetry”), and the search for identity. Some solutions are presented to problems created by these issues that might interfere with reconciliation between the two societies. The authors give us not only unique professional work, but insight into their personal experiences that motivate their effort. An account of the role of humor in resolving personal identity issues is included, as well as a research study about struggles for identity experienced by a group—Arab Israelis—caught in the middle of the conflict.

chapter

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Humiliation or Dignity in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict Evelin Gerda Lindner, Neil Ryan Walsh, and Judy Kuriansky

God made people into different tribes and nations speaking different languages and living in different cultures: All these are signs of God’s universal compassion and we must learn to appreciate each other. —Koran 5:48, 30:22, and 49:13 (as quoted in Ahmed, 2003, p. 4)

Introduction Many conflicts around the world are fueled by the universal phenomenon of humiliation, which occurs when members of one group feel that they are not allowed to live life in a dignified way because of a perceived lack of recognition and respect from another group. This view of conflict derives from the emerging field of humiliation studies (Human Dignity and Humiliation Studies, n.d.; Klein, 1991; Lindner, 2006b; Miller, 1993; Steinberg, 1991) and presents an alternative to the clash of civilizations thesis proposed by Huntington (1996) by taking into account the experience of humiliation and the universal human need for dignity within an examination of ethnic and cultural differences. Furthermore, an analysis of violent behavior as a result of wounds derived from disappointment and humiliation can provide deeper explanation and hold more promise for constructive transformation of conflict than simply relying on concepts such as unexplainable evil. Therefore, the investigation of humiliation can be useful for scholarly and applied work in conflict resolution. This chapter explores the role of humiliation as the source of the IsraeliPalestinian conflict. It includes a definition of humiliation from an interdisciplinary social science perspective, examples of humiliation in both cultures, and recommendations for how to address constructively this destructive element for both peoples.

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Defining and Understanding Humiliation Humiliation is a process of subjugation that damages or strips away a person’s pride, honor, and dignity and that is the result of a forced lowering of a person or group of people. To be humiliated is to be placed—usually against one’s will and often in a deeply hurtful way—in a situation greatly inferior to what one feels one deserves or should expect. Although humiliation is experienced by the individual or group as victimization, the reaction and role of the so-called victim is not always unambiguous; a person may also construct a false history of being humiliated (Lindner, 2006b). Other psychological constructs central to humiliation include striving for identity (manifested in the need for a home and concretized in land ownership) as well as in-group/out-group polarizations (Abelson, Frey, & Gregg, 2004). Humiliation is prevented and counteracted when the human rights concept of equal dignity for all is heeded and respected. As the president of the Northern Irish Catholic movement Sinn Féin, Gerry Adams observed, “No matter how much you try to put people down, people always want to live in a dignified way; to pursue happiness . . . is part of the human condition” (Adams, 2006). These constructs are all relevant to Israelis and Palestinians as well as to the interaction between the two groups. Power imbalance can lead to humiliation and demeaning treatment that may involve acts of force and incite violence in cycles of retaliation (Margalit, 2002). Powerful entities may be blind as to how they incite feelings of humiliation in less powerful individuals or groups, which can reach boiling points (Coleman, 2000) and erupt into humiliated fury when there is nothing to lose, to the extent that even human life may seem inconsequential (Lewis, 1971). Another dynamic involved in humiliation is the approach-avoidance ambivalence one group can have toward a group perceived as more privileged (Gibson & Ogbu, 1991). This approach-avoidance dynamic may be seen to apply to certain Arab societies that reject Westernization while also being attracted to seemingly advanced Western living standards. Additionally, an individual may feel humiliated as a result of misunderstandings and/or cultural differences concerning folk customs and mores defining respectful treatment. It has been proposed, for example, that Westerners do not have a complete enough understanding of Arab character or culture, which can lead to misunderstandings or acts that exacerbate feelings of humiliation and inflame a situation. For example, cartoons published in the Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten in September 2005 and reprinted in other newspapers (in a controversy later called the “Cartoon War”)—one of which depicted the Muslim Prophet Muhammad wearing a bomb disguised as a turban—were defended as satire but incurred Muslim outrage for being demeaning (Lindner, 2006a).

Humiliation Experienced by Palestinians The victimization and traumatization of Palestinians has been widely discussed; however, very little scientific literature has been available on the specific



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role humiliation plays in the Palestinian experience (Schaarschmidt, 2005). Conditions suffered by the Palestinian people have resulted in problems individually, interpersonally, and culturally (El Serraj, 2005). The experience of humiliation for Palestinians has been connected to the need for revenge (Reiss, 2004), particularly in the case of children who feel their father has been humiliated. Humiliation experienced by Palestinian men (e.g., as a result of ill-treatment at checkpoints or as a result of the occupation) has been noted as leading to domestic violence (Abusrour, 2006). Humiliation also occurs within Palestinian society; for example, being labeled a collaborator—working with the Israeli Army or spying against other Palestinians for the Israeli national intelligence—is considered “the most humiliating experience for a Palestinian” (El-Serraj, 1998). By the opposite token, it is an act of dignity for a Palestinian to become a martyr in service to the Palestinian cause. Lindner saw many young Palestinian clients at her psychology clinic in Cairo, Egypt, who described feelings of humiliation that led them to contemplate resorting to extreme measures. For example, one young woman described: My father wants me to study and then get married but I cannot smile and laugh and think of a happy life when at the same time my aunts and uncles, my nieces and other family members face suffering in Palestine. This suffering is like a heavy burden on me . . . sometimes I cannot sleep because of it. . . . If my father were not alive I would go to my homeland, get married and have as many sons as possible, and educate them in the right spirit. I would be overjoyed to have a martyr as a son, a son who sacrifices his life for his people. I feel that suicide bombers are heroes, because it is hard to give your life. I want to give my life. . . . I cannot just sit here in Cairo and watch my people suffer. . . . I feel so powerless, so heavy; sometimes I can hardly walk. . . . What shall I do? (Lindner, 2001)

Although she appreciates martyrdom, this young woman asked what other solutions were available to her own and other people’s feelings of humiliation and suffering. This case shows that psychotherapeutic intervention can be helpful to manage painful feelings and to end cycles of violence by helping clients explore alternate personal and collective strategies.

Humiliation Experienced by Israelis The importance of preserving dignity and honor and avoiding humiliating defeat at all costs is evident in the story of Masada. Masada is a large rock plateau near the Dead Sea where a Jewish group encamped and resisted Roman troops for three years after the fall of the Second Temple in Jerusalem around 70 C.E. Instead of risking defeat, which would have ensured that the men would have been made slaves and the women turned into prostitutes, the families committed suicide. In his final speech, the group leader, Elazar ben Yair, supposedly proclaimed, “We have preferred death before slavery” (Telushkin, 1991). Being threatened with annihilation leads to feelings of humiliation. This was clearly prominent in the Nazi Holocaust of Jews during World War II and is

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further evident in statements by the current president of Iran who called the Holocaust a myth and asserted that Israel should be wiped off the map (Los Angeles Times Wire Report, 2006) as well as by violence against Jews in many countries around the world (Stephen Roth Institute, 2003). In its charter, Hamas, the Palestinian party now in power, implicates Jews in grandiose plans for world domination and proclaims that Judaism and the state of Israel are a “challenge” to Islam and Muslims and that they are “cowards” who must “never sleep” (Hamas Covenant, 1988). Such statements heighten Jewish fears of not being able to secure a home in the world, as was evident by one woman who told Lindner that she was considering counseling her children to leave Israel and build a future elsewhere. With the threat of being “pushed into the sea” by her neighbors, she feared whether safeguarding Israel as a country would be tenable in the long term. Struggling to control her pain, the woman finally exclaimed, “This is what is so humiliating, that there is no place for us on this Earth.”

The Concept of Home and Humiliation The suffering of both Palestinians and Israelis is embedded in the need for—and deprivation of—a home. Lindner’s interviews with people in the region in 2003 and 2004 revealed the profound and intense emotionality connected to the concept of home on both sides. As one American Jewish man living in Israel said, “You have no idea of the healing effect that having a homeland has.” The loss of home can lead to depression as well as aggression and the possibility of violent conflict as evident between the Palestinians and the Israelis. Lindner knows from personal experience about how being expelled from one’s homeland and becoming a refugee can lead to feelings of humiliation and an identity crisis. She says: I was born into a displaced family from Silesia, which is now part of Poland. Together with millions of others, my family was forced to leave Silesia in 1945 and so, lost their homeland. My parents have lived in continuous trauma since that time. The loss of their homeland broke their hearts. During the first twenty or thirty years of my life, my identity was characterized by feelings of non-belonging. I felt that we were not “at home” where we lived in Western Germany and because Silesia no longer existed, there was no longer a “home” to go to.

Lindner relates this personal experience to that of Palestinians and Jews yearning for a homeland. This longing is felt by Palestinians born in a distant refugee camp who feel that Haifa (for example) is their home, even though they have never set foot in the city, as well as by Jews who dream of Jerusalem as their home without ever having been there. Her solution to this dilemma has been to conceptualize her life as being a citizen of the world, where all locales are home to her, thus questioning the widespread belief in many cultures that establishing roots in a particular place is indispensable for identity and security.



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Recognition of the Other Social identity theory, an area of social psychology, postulates that identity is in part established by the creation of a worthy in-group in contrast to an undeserving out-group (Hogg, 2001). Such distinctions prevent recognition of the other as legitimate, however, and can perpetuate humiliation and rage (Coleman, 2000). Because humiliation results from such nonrecognition, to diminish humiliation, all parties must recognize that members of the other group are as deserving as in-group members of fair and moral treatment. Describing the importance of mutual respect, civil rights leader Martin Luther King Jr. is reported to have said, “We may have all come on different ships, but we’re in the same boat now.” One can say that the Palestinian and Israeli national identities have different histories but are now in the same boat. Conceptualizing both as a single ingroup can diffuse the humiliation cycle. Many examples of dialogue groups, communication training, and other efforts by Israelis and Palestinians attempt to help members of both groups extend this recognition, as well as respect, to each other.

Moving beyond Victimhood The desire for recognition and respect is universal in the human condition. Extending respect can serve as a platform for contact and cooperation, whereas withholding respect, experienced as humiliation, widens a divide between individuals or groups (Vogel & Lazare, 1990). Lack of recognition of the other makes it difficult for participants in conflict to extend empathy, compassion, and understanding to each other as well as to practice mature emotion regulation. Central to the desire for recognition and respect is the need to acknowledge one’s own and the other’s victimhood and suffering without engaging in a competition for which side has suffered more. A conference at Columbia University in November 2004, called “Impasse? Alternative Voices in the Middle East,” began with Palestinians and Israelis willing to listen to each other but ended suddenly. When a Palestinian participant explained her experience as humiliating and hurtful, an audience member shouted, “You brought this upon yourselves!” The interaction destroyed the group cohesion and individuals’ willingness to empathize, and the meeting soon dissolved. Conflict remains intractable unless both parties listen to each other and appreciate each other’s experiences. Resolution of conflict requires acknowledging wounds on all sides, recognizing the victimhood of all who feel pain, and working through this suffering constructively in ways that embody maturity and moderation. Furthermore, the significance of memories of feelings of humiliation and the dynamic of secondary gains (benefits) from a position of victimhood have been pointed out (Margalit, 2002). Unconscious dynamics must be uncovered and worked through to prevent self-perpetuating cycles of feelings of humiliation.

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Third-Party Intervention Mutual recognition of parties in conflict experiencing humiliation and victimhood can be facilitated by third parties, ranging from counselors and psychologists on an individual level to peace experts, negotiators, or neutral nations on a global level. These third parties, less involved in the hot conflict, can help the conflicting parties recognize feelings of victimization on all sides and assist them in building new skills and worldviews that help promote mutual respect and cooperation. Monitoring and follow-ups are needed to ensure that these new skills are being implemented.

Conclusion Humiliation plays a major role in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, stemming from the historical roots of each culture, the unfolding of the conflict, and present-day interactions. Humiliation is defined as the enforced lowering of a person or group of people that damages or strips away pride, honor, and dignity. Prominent dynamics that cause and perpetuate humiliation include the need for a home (concretized in a specific, often idealized geographic location), the highlighting of in-group/out-group differences, and the nonrecognition of victimization in self and other. Israelis and Palestinians must conceive of both as members of one in-group and extend recognition to each other. Recognition and mutual validation of victimization, assisted by neutral third parties, are important in establishing a long-lasting and meaningful resolution to the conflict.

Note Many of the quotations contained in this chapter are from personal interviews conducted by Lindner throughout the course of her fieldwork in 2003–2004.

References Abelson, R. P., Frey, K. P., & Gregg, A. P. (2004). Experiments with people: Revelations from social psychology. Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum. Abusrour, A. (2006). The effect of conflict and militarization on Palestinian women. In J. Kuriansky (Ed.), Terror in the holy land: Inside the anguish of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict (pp. 153–160). Westport, CT: Praeger. Adams, G. (2006, March 14). The Irish peace process: An international model for conflict resolution. Speech given at St. John’s University, Queens, NY. Ahmed, A. S. (2003). Islam under siege: Living dangerously in a post-honor world. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press. Coleman, P. T. (2000). Power and conflict. In M. Deutsch & P. T. Coleman (Eds.), The handbook of conflict resolution: Theory and practice (pp. 108–130). San Francisco: JosseyBass. El-Serraj, E. (1998, September). Kill your neighbor! Gaza Community Mental Health Programme. Retrieved from http://www.gcmhp.net/eyad/kill_your_neighbor.htm



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El Serraj, E. R. (2005, September). Psychiatry in Palestine. Paper presented at the World Congress of Psychiatry, Cairo, Egypt. Gibson, M. A., & Ogbu, J. U. (Eds.). (1991). Minority status and schooling: A comparative study of immigrant and involuntary minorities. New York: Garland. Hamas Covenant. (1988). The covenant of the Islamic resistance movement. Retrieved April 5, 2006, from http://www.yale.edu/lawweb/avalon/mideast/hamas.htm Hogg, M. A. (2001). A social identity theory of leadership. Personality and Social Psychology Review, 6, 184–200. Human Dignity and Humiliation Studies. (n.d.). Retrieved July 17, 2006, from http:// www.humiliationstudies.org Huntington, S. P. (1996). The clash of civilizations and the remaking of world order. New York: Simon and Schuster. Klein, D. C. (1991). The humiliation dynamic: Viewing the task of prevention from a new perspective, Part I. Journal of Primary Prevention, 12, 93–121. Lewis, H. B. (1971). Shame and guilt in neurosis. New York: International Universities Press. Lindner, E. G. (2001). Humiliation as the source of terrorism: A new paradigm. Peace Research, 33, 59–68. Lindner, E. G. (2006a). “The Cartoon War” of humiliation versus humiliation: What should be done? Retrieved February 16, 2006, from http://www.humiliationstudies.org/ documents/evelin/CartoonWar.pdf Lindner, E. G. (2006b). Making enemies unwittingly: Humiliation and international conflict. Westport, CT: Praeger. Los Angeles Times Wire Report. (2006, January 16). Conference will feature debate on holocaust. Los Angeles Times, p. A4. Margalit, A. (2002). The ethics of memory. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. Miller, W. I. (1993). Humiliation and other essays on honor, social discomfort, and violence. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Reiss, G. (2004). Beyond war and peace in the Arab Israeli conflict. Eugene, OR: Changing Worlds Press. Schaarschmidt, S. (2005, December). Cognitive and emotional ingroup-identification of youth in Israel and Palestine. Note prepared for Round Table 1 of the 2005 Workshop on Humiliation and Violent Conflict, Columbia University, New York. Retrieved May 14, 2006, from http://www.humiliationstudies.org/documents/ SchaarschmidtNY05meetingRT2.pdf Steinberg, B. S. (1991). Psychoanalytic concepts in international politics: The role of shame and humiliation. International Review of Psycho Analysis, 18, 65–85. Stephen Roth Institute for the Study of Contemporary Antisemitism and Racism. (2003). Annual report 2002–3: Country Reports: The CIS and the Baltic States. Tel Aviv, Israel: Tel Aviv University. Telushkin, J. (1991). Jewish literacy: The most important things to know about the Jewish religion, its people, and its history. New York: William Morrow. (Used as source for Masada, retrieved March 18, 2006, from http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/ Judaism/masada.html) Vogel, W., & Lazare, A. (1990). The unforgivable humiliation: A dilemma in couples’ treatment. Contemporary Family Therapy, 12, 139–151.

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Breaking the Cycle of Revenge in the Palestinian-Israeli Conflict Gary Reiss

You hurt me; I hurt you back, hopefully worse than you hurt me. Getting even is all too common between adolescents in school yards and even in adult relation­ ships. Returns for injuries are even biblical justice dictated by “an eye for an eye.” Exacting retribution only perpetuates a vindictive cycle of revenge, however, dramatically evident on the world stage in relations between the Palestinians and the Israelis, a cycle that must stop for peace. Every time Israel kills a major figure in Hamas, the Islamic Jihad, or other radi­ cal Palestinian group, a suicide bomber sets off explosives on a bus or street in a Jewish town, Israel retaliates with an air strike on the terrorist’s house or on a ter­ rorist leader, which leads to another suicide bomb attack, and the cycle never ends. Both sides are determined to strike back and refuse to look weak or defeated. Imagine revenge as a raging fire and then sitting in the middle of that fire and not getting burned. How could you do that? By relying on what is called heartful­ ness (coming from the spirit of compassion rather than revenge) and using the fire’s heat to motivate the creation of a sense of community with the apparent enemy. This is the guiding principle of process-oriented psychology, founded by psychologist Arnold Mindell, and applied in my work over the past 10 years with Israelis and Palestinians and Arabs and Jews in Worldwork seminars. Worldwork is the name of that part of process-oriented psychology that focuses on working with small and large groups, conflict resolution, and organizational development. This method offers powerful ­awareness-based tools to break the de­ structive cycle of revenge prevalent in long-term, identity-based, and even in seemingly intractable conflicts like the Arab-Israeli conflict. In this chapter, I dis­ cuss the dynamics of revenge in general and how they apply to the Arab-Israeli conflict and then suggest how to break this cycle of revenge. The central goal is to

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be able to move from the ancient principle of “an eye for an eye”—­particularly prevalent in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict—to a more modern understanding that an eye for an eye leads only to a world of people blinded by revenge. Contem­ porary conditions require that we develop new methods to deal with the feelings that underlie that motivation and transform the cycle of payback. When I work in Israel, I am constantly aware of the practice of score settling. On a recent trip, as soon I heard the news that Israeli troops had killed a Hamas leader, we knew only a number of days would follow before a suicide bombing; sure enough, it happened like clockwork. We also knew the retaliation would not end there; that there would be a reprisal by the Israeli Army, which also hap­ pened. It seems a simple question: Why do not both sides realize someone has to stop the revenge? How can either side believe it will get in the last blow? Yet revenge is not built on a rational, well-thought-out process. It is motivated on giving back what one gets (or worse) to prove you will not be treated like that. Defend­ ers would call it self-defense or fair punishment in retaliation; critics would cry malice or bullying and describe the retaliator as a terrorist. Without collective efforts at understanding the psychology of such revenge, and how it operates in this particular conflict, there is little hope of changing this pattern. Some conflicts fueled by revenge can burn themselves out at a point when so much blood has been spilled that neither side can take it anymore, no matter how deep the underlying grievances run. For example, in the conflicts in Northern Ireland, it was the women from both sides taking to the streets, declaring that no more of their loved ones’ blood be spilled, that marked the turning point in re­ solving that conflict. Those of us involved in conflict work in the Middle East hope to have a shorter, less deadly solution to the cycle of violence because enough blood has been shed. First, we must understand what feeds the fires of revenge. Veteran peace theo­ rist and activist Don Klein, in his book New Vision New Reality, explains that identity issues are an important source of the motivation for revenge, that one of the causes of seeking revenge is humiliation, and that stopping a revenge cycle requires healing problems of identity as well as addressing and transforming the experience of humiliation. Says Klein, “The humiliated fury and the desire for revenge are passed down through mythic accounts of past injustices, betrayals, and glorious defeats and victories. They are part of each individual’s collective identity. The flame of humiliated fury fires up the thirst for revenge, making it possible for neighbors to slaughter neighbors, freedom fighters to bomb defense­ less civilians, and regimes to view ethnic cleansing as a matter of policy” (2001, p. 90). Klein implies that the work to stop revenge is multigenerational and must be based on ending the cause of the fury resulting from humiliation from past hurts. Those of us who work with individuals and groups subject to trauma and abuse know that it is difficult to heal the past while present incidents of abuse and hu­ miliation continue. But we also know how necessary this healing is. This is true for both sides in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.



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Other factors are at work in the psychology of revenge that must be addressed, including real or perceived social status. In tying revenge to issues of social rank and power, Mindell explains a simple formula about how rank causes revenge: “That social injustice foments revenge should be obvious from the fact that the vast majority of those incarcerated in all countries come from the groups with the fewest social privileges. In other words, violence occurs, in part, because the oppressed cannot defend themselves from the intentional and covert use of main­ stream rank” (1995, p. 78). Complicating this causal relationship is the experience that relative rank and power sometimes operate on an unconscious level, requiring both parties to become more consciously aware of these internal and relational dynamics and how they perpetuate the cycle of revenge. Both respected theorists and practitioners of conflict work, Mindell and Klein, refer to revenge as a reaction to abuse by groups that do not feel they can defend themselves. Therein lies a clue to stopping such abuse that comes from social injustice and fuels the pressure to seek revenge. Both sides—the Israelis and the Palestinians—feel abused by the other in this conflict; therefore, only mutual deescalation can allow healing to occur. Both sides have suffered from a source of rank and power, albeit perceived as different, in which the Israeli side has a more mainstream recognized social rank and the Palestinian society has less educa­ tion, socioeconomic and psychological resources, and services. Revenge would not be necessary, posits Mindell, if we were all wiser about our rank and more conscious of our use of social power. All too often, however, the players in this dynamic, however powerful, feel powerless to stop its evolu­ tion, such that “revenge itself is an uncanny power that the privileged are un­ able to defend against” (1995, p. 80). We are working to help Israelis utilize that rank and power more consciously. Other less well-recognized factors also play a role in what can be seen as a dramatic revenge play. For example, Mindell introduces spirituality as having an effect on revenge by postulating revenge as “a form of spirituality,” a sort of spiritual power meant to equalize social injustice. He explains, “When we seek revenge, we are apt to feel we have some sort of divine justification for our ac­ tions. This sort of ‘justice’ transmutes chronic violence into a sort of religious struggle against ‘evil doers.’ Since we have been hurt, we feel we have a right to get back at our persecutors” (1995, p. 79). A sense of righteous retribution can lead to becoming an abuser. Mindell describes stages of emotions in the revenge cycle where revenge be­ gins with repressed anger (evident in smiling when we have been hurt). The first signal of desire for revenge may be passivity: shock, shame, numbness, with­ drawal, or anxiety; important to note because these early signs inevitably activate the cycle of the impulse of seeking retaliation (1995, p. 79). In these early stages, the desire for revenge can also manifest in subtle or simple behaviors that can be evident in interpersonal, occupational, or global relationships, for example footdragging (procrastinating, not getting things done), avoidance (not talking or missing appointments), passive-aggressive behaviors (saying one thing but doing

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another), offering criticisms couched in pleasantries or as helpful comments, for­ getfulness (being absentminded), not reacting when spoken to, aggression (storm­ ing out of a meeting, arguing), or even depressive reactions (fatigue, inattention, sleepiness, weeping). Strategies in revenge designed to get back at others include making them feel guilty (often the goal of more passive-aggressive behaviors), attempting to ma­ nipulate others, or making the other feel as low as you feel. In later stages, feelings and reactions build, with the desire for revenge leading to overt action, such as the formation of alliances or coalitions in opposition to the oppressors. Eventually, revenge can be sought in collective actions, like dem­ onstrations against authorities, riots, civil disobedience, and, finally, revolution. Revenge is difficult to reverse when its goals are extensive. Mindell under­ stands that we cannot just put down the one who seeks revenge or assuage the anger underlying their drive for revenge because there is a goal or hope behind these acts of powerlessness. It might be to make the world aware of one’s condi­ tion, which seems to be operating in the case of Palestinian militant groups. In this way, revenge is tied to power, or the experience of powerlessness and the desire to reverse that state. As Mindell notes, “Without the fury, the rest of the world would never have to face its abuses of power” (1995, p. 80). Following this sociological and psychological theory that revenge becomes the great equalizer in reaction to oppression by a side with more social rank, then each side must become aware of its progression. The side with more main­ stream power—in this case, Israel—must be aware of how issues of social justice will continue to enflame the Palestinians and that no amount of force can replace the need for social justice to make real peace. On the Palestinian side, it is neces­ sary to be aware of the power of revenge that they themselves possess and to work with this dynamic more consciously and constructively. This requires ac­ knowledging that just striking back at the other side—in this case, Israel—with some expression of might (power) does not motivate the Israelis to award social justice; instead it causes the Israelis to feel more insecure and to react with more defensiveness, offensiveness, and repressiveness. This has been one of the most important discoveries of years of experience with Worldwork; no matter how unaware the side with more ostensible power is about its position and no matter how seemingly justifiable is the desire of the other party to beat this side, retali­ ation, especially with violence, does not earn increased sensitivity, compassion, or more social justice. Awareness of the spiritual power of revenge without exerting this power with intent to harm allows for the side with perceived lower rank—in this case the Palestinians, even by their own definition—to use their power to motivate the mainstream to use its rank with more justice. Specifically, I suggest that the Pal­ estinians awaken the Israelis to the Palestinian plight more effectively through spiritual powers, not attacks on their people in buses, restaurants, and other pub­ lic places. Heroic figures in the world have modeled this use of spiritual power to bring about social change, like Gandhi did for independence, like Martin Luther



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King Jr. and Nelson Mandela did for civil rights, and like Burmese Aung San Suu Kyi did for human rights. I remember the Tibetan lama Trungpa Riponche once being challenged by the media for his efforts to stop nuclear war. When asked, “How can you take on such powers as those with nuclear weapons?” he answered, “They have the atomic bomb, but I have the enlightenment bomb.” He knew the “nuclear” power of a spiritually awake person or group and how that power can defeat the greatest of all oppositions. In a group I facilitated with Palestinians and Israelis, a Palestinian human rights activist talked about the many times he was arrested and tortured in his younger days, accused of being a terrorist first by the Israelis and then by the Palestinian Authority so that eventually he became, in his words, a terrorist, feel­ ing vengeful and getting involved in bombings. Eventually, he realized that this approach only magnified suffering for himself and everyone and that some other approach was needed. Now in his late forties, he developed compassion for all sides and began to work again for peace on a global level. He told the group, “If we don’t work towards reconciliation, we will suffer more and more, us and kids and the next generation. We have to do something. So I speak and tell my stories not to accuse the Israeli side and say that they mean this or this. I tell what I believe and share with many conferences and workshops with the Israelis. I share with any group. So I will not accuse the Israeli side.” I complimented him that he sounded like Nelson Mandela in his insistence on reconciliation or like an elder who has been through so much suffering that he stops taking sides and becomes a peacemaker. Such a model is direly needed in a conflict. This man’s sharing and the group process are good examples of the stages of revenge and its transformation as described previously. Later in the group pro­ cess, a Jewish woman described how she feels she has been part of denying Pal­ estinians some of their rights. Her sharing is a perfect example of the several different avenues to work on revenge that are particularly relevant to the ArabIsraeli conflict and that operate in the Worldwork groups I run. For example, the early stages of revenge involve repressing feelings and going numb. Many people we have met from all sides of the PalestinianIsraeli conflict talk about feeling numb and in shock. In our Worldwork semi­ nars, people are given the space—­opportunity, acceptance, and permission— to experience this numbness (deadening feelings to avoid pain, helplessness, or other emotions one cannot cope with) and to work on transforming that feeling. As a ­facilitator, I point out to the individual or group when they look like they are numb from shock, and I give them time to focus on what is un­ derneath that experience. In a powerful example of waking up from numbness, a Jewish woman in one of my groups began to cry. I asked her, and the group, to focus on her tears and learn what they were expressing. She recalled her parents’ experiences in the Holocaust and said, “How could we, as Jews, who have suffered so much, fifty years after the Holocaust, be numb to other people’s suffering? I know I am. I

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feel so hopeless, so powerless, so small, that is the guilt feeling, so useless, with all my privileges and all my awareness, and all my education, I feel just useless” (Reiss, 2004). Once a repressed feeling of powerlessness is made conscious, it can free the per­ son of that feeling, which can then be replaced with the opposite experience—a feeling of powerfulness; in other words, inaction can turn to action. Once this woman’s uselessness or hopelessness became conscious, she suddenly felt able to do something that is useful and helpful; she apologized to the Palestinians in the group, saying, “I am sorry that it turned out that way that we didn’t process our own pain enough to not cause it to others.” This statement profoundly changed the atmosphere of the group. The woman had courageously explored deep into her emotions and her history as a child of Holocaust survivors so that she was able to say exactly what was behind her hopelessness. It was a very powerful statement for her to say that her people have not worked on their pain enough to not cause your people suffering and that we can only hurt you because we are ourselves hurt and numb. Such a statement offers hope as a model to apply in the current Israeli-Pal­ estinian situation, to stop the cycle of revenge. I am a strong believer in the power of one individual to move a whole group, something I detail in my book Changing Ourselves, Changing the World (2000). Of course, first one must change oneself, and then one can have the power to change others and, possibly, a broader context in the world. To accomplish these revelations and interactions requires a context of safety, a psychological construct that is crucial in this conflict, especially because nei­ ther side feels safe. Our work as Worldwork facilitators is to help create a safe environment where people can sit in the fire of their strong emotions and let the fire thaw out their numbness. We do this by talking about safety and processing how real safety comes from deep connection and meeting and not simply the mainstream side keeping on the lid so they feel secure. We create safety by al­ lowing all sides to be heard, by catching hot moments as they first come up so they do not escalate, by processing rank and power issues, and by representing the scary, unsafe parts of the process in role playing. Forgiveness is another way to move beyond the position of revenge. In Mediating Dangerously, Kenneth Cloke, a theorist similar to Mindell, poses forgiveness as a central tool in conflict work because it keeps the one who has been hurt from being consumed by anger and serves as a balance to stop revenge (Cloke, 2001). Forgiveness involves separating a person from actions that he or she did, par­ doning, even if not forgetting, their behavior. The Worldwork groups include forgiveness as part of the process. This often involves first consciously working through feelings of anger and hurt to the point that letting go and forgiving hap­ pens naturally. To avoid triggering the revenge cycle or forcing resolution and forgiveness (which will not sustain), however, it is crucial to explore and resolve deeper psychological issues, as exemplified in the work the Israeli woman did about realizing deep feelings about being the child of Holocaust survivors and accepting all the personal, family, and collective issues this raised for her.



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It is important to raise a paradox that can exist in conflict situations: Although it seems to be negative, conflict can also be an attempt to create intimacy and community. This occurs in individual relationships whereby a fight between loved ones can offer an opportunity to open up, be honest, share feelings, and get to know one another better. When the air clears, the two people can feel closer. This can also occur in groups in which fighting can lead to connecting, letting down defenses, becoming more real, and getting to know each other in new ways. We may even come to discover similarities and identify with the other person’s position. One of the most compelling testimonials to the power of working through revenge is the story of Laura Blumenfeld, relayed in her book Revenge: A Story of Hope (2002). Blumenfeld’s father was in an Arab market in Jerusalem when he was shot by a Palestinian. He survived, but his daughter dreamed about revenge. In her pursuit to find out everything that happened in that incident and under­ stand her blinding drive for revenge, she interviews Yitzhak Shamir, former Is­ raeli prime minister, who explains the governing policy of revenge used by both sides as “Tooth for tooth, limb for limb, burn for burn. Those are the ABC’s of retaliation” (p. 37). Then she meets the chief rabbi of Israel who tells her, “The state of Israel is revenge for the Holocaust” (p. 117). Those of us who work with this conflict must know how deep the commitment to revenge goes. When she meets the killer’s family, they speak of the glory of revenge. Ultimately, she makes contact with the shooter, who is in prison, and they establish a letter-writing relationship. Until this point, the shooter and his family do not know that she is the daughter of the man that the son shot. Finally, they meet when he comes to court on the attempted murder charges, and she asks him if he is sorry, and he says, “Yes.” When Laura testifies in court, she reveals who she is for the first time to the shooter and his family. Encouraged by her mother, she expresses forgive­ ness. In what is likely a first in Israel, the daughter of someone shot by a Pales­ tinian speaks up in defense of the shooter. The judge asks why she went on this journey to connect with the man who shot her father and with his family, and Laura says, “You have to take a chance for peace. You have to believe it is possi­ ble” (p. 343). In this way, Laura sums up the theme of this chapter: Individuals and groups must take a chance on peace, despite past horrors perpetuated on or by them. She went through all the normal feelings of hatred, wanting revenge, hating others besides the perpetrator, and exploring that hatred and revenge until the urges transformed into inner peace she could extend to others. At first, she lusts for revenge: “Bruise a person’s dignity, and revenge will repair it. If the offense is private, the punishment can be too,” she writes. “But if the humiliation is public, so is the revenge. . . . Revenge erases the moment of revealed weakness. It en­ hances honor, shifts dignity back into ­balance” (Blumenfeld, 2002, p. 18). On an individual level, however, she accomplishes what Israelis and Palestinians—and all groups with an ongoing history of the cycle of revenge—must learn to do with each other: to break the cycle of endless hurt and settling scores.

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Laura’s journey of forgiveness is one that we help others do, through the com­ munity healing process of Worldwork. For example, in one of our seminars, a Jewish woman described her feelings on discovering a bomb planted by Palestin­ ians under her apartment building. One of the Palestinians in the group apolo­ gized and said how sorry he was that she went through this. His apology helped heal her fear and anger, even through he was not the person who placed the bomb. I utilize two main interventions when working to transform revenge in the Arab-Israeli conflict. The first is what I call a “low tide method” in which you do something when signs of conflict and violence first begin and are at a low energy point, before they escalate to a high energy point or “high tide.” According to Mindell’s approach, to help people deal with their numbness, shock, and other feelings that reach the level of persistent pain and insecurity, such as those expe­ rienced by both Israelis and Palestinians, they need time to speak their truth, and they need to be supported to go deeply into their feelings. Others need to be able to respond in reaction with whatever feelings come up for them. This back-andforth method, in which each side shares, can prevent the need to have the polar­ ized groups communicate through the cycle of revenge. Working with shock and numbness brings up other psychological states that are underneath, that come out indirectly in the form of revenge, and points out that beating each other up when you are already numb will only create more numbness; instead, the numb­ ness must be experienced and explored openly for it to change. The second method I utilize is to reveal, show, or demonstrate—rather than hide or repress—the desire for revenge. This requires representing revenge in as dramatic a form as possible, even if it feels forced or uncomfortable. Someone in the group might be asked to act out the spirit of revenge by moving, talking, and acting like someone seeking revenge. In a group in Nazareth, I represented this by grabbing my water bottle, pretending that it was a gun, and talking about how satisfying it would be to get revenge against someone and kill that person. The group then started talking about war and divided into those who wanted war and those who wanted peace. Ultimately, after arguing, the group started to reflect on what they learned about each other. Members of the group took turns enacting and interacting with different roles in revenge scenarios. Arnold Mindell demonstrated the techniques in a seminar on Arab-Jewish issues that we co-taught in the United States with Amy Mindell and close Pal­ estinian friend and peace activist Ibrahim Hamide. First, in a moment that ter­ rified the group, he talked about a desire to kill, persisting in the role-play until a woman in the audience began to wail. Then, he asked the group to play along and enact some imaginary situation. The following is a transcript of the group interaction in which Mindell starts by playing the role of a man who has died from an avenger’s bullet. This approach is similar to psychodrama, but one main difference is how far this approach lets people go—into altered states of con­ sciousness—knowing that this shamanic journey that goes into other worlds is necessary for transformation to occur.



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Mindell, in playing the role of an imaginary dead man come to life, says to his killer, “I am going to kill you.” Another man adds to his statement, saying, “I have nothing to lose. I am going to strap some explosives on me and blow myself up and take as many people as I can.” Mindell says, “Here I come. You tried and stopped me before. Just try and stop me again. Here I come.” The woman who had cried before, screams, “That is my child you are going to kill. You can’t kill my child. We are a family. We are cousins. Look at me. We have the same color of skin.” Mindell says, “It doesn’t touch me. What are you afraid of death for? Let go.” The woman responds, “I am not afraid of death. I love death actually. No, it is the oppression of people living on this planet now. You have cut yourself off. You are so dead inside already. Please live now.” Mindell encourages her to experience her feelings more: “Let yourself go.” More talk follows, and then a woman in the group gets up, and both she and Mindell point fingers at each other as with guns. Group members discuss what is happening. The woman who was screaming before falls to the ground and sobs. Mindell goads the group by saying, “The dead are going to stand back here and just watch.” After the woman on the floor continues screaming and wailing, other women join her wailing. This escalates her experience, and as she wails and wails, she goes into trancelike state. Mindell asks her where she is, and she says she is in the center of the earth. From this place, she says, “Stop the killing, they are all my children, both sides are my children.” Mindell replies, “The dead can hear that.” Another woman jumps in and says, “I don’t want to scream. I am glad to hear her cry because I can’t feel anything for you. I can’t feel anything for you. I can’t feel this. I am pleased. I killed those people and I am glad that she is crying.” Mindell says, “The dead hear that. The dead heard her say both are her chil­ dren. We no longer are the ones on one side or the other.” The woman who was screaming says, “I see myself sitting in the middle of the earth. I keep trying to send the message that there is so much land for every­ body. There is so much love for everybody.” The woman goes to the place in herself where she finds there are for the moment no polarities, no positions, no Jews and Palestinians, just children, her children. Mindell senses that, and he says, “Her voice sounds like she is speaking from another world. Her head is down on the ground, and she speaks from this place of wisdom, of eldership that says, ‘I know that now.’ ” The woman says, “You are so much more than this. You are so much more.” Mindell responds: “I know that now.” The woman says, “You are so much more than this. I know you are so much more. You have been through so much more, you have learned, I know you have learned.” Mindell advises, “We had to go through all of that to learn.”

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She says, “Please hang on to everything you have and know that you have learned through the ages. I tried so hard to support you all.” Mindell reflects aloud, “I wish we could have learned that earlier, but we have learned it now. Some have.” The woman says, “Some have not and some have. You’ve got to help, if you pray and love and keep focusing on the love that will help.” There is no easy formula to create this drama or to ensure that it comes to some kind of resolution. The best that you can do is to have the parties present, create the space, and carefully unfold what seems to happen so that the process can go deeply enough. Of course, facilitation of this process takes expertise and training because the session can go deep into a shamanic journey. The World­ work seminars do not always go this deep, but the central idea here is that if we can hear from people’s intrapsychic core how they really feel about their world, then maybe the drama of waking up can happen and the cycle of murder can be broken without so many lives having to be lost to get to this point. These methods prove that understanding the psychology of revenge, and transforming revenge, is possible. From this understanding, we are develop­ ing more humane methods to replace the ancient method of an eye for an eye that still dominates national and international conflict. These tools include reducing humiliation, being more aware of rank and power issues, working on social injustice of all kinds, and even participating in groups that process the deep emotions and history behind revenge. Those of us working on the Is­ raeli-Palestinian conflict bring forth alternative means of conflict resolution that treaties can address but never fully resolve so we can process the deep multigenerational feelings and issues that fan the flames of war and revenge and allow transformation and reconciliation.

References Blumenfeld, L. (2002). Revenge: A story of hope. New York: Washington Square Press. Cloke, K. (2001). Mediating dangerously. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Klein, D. C. (2001). New vision, new reality. City Center, MN: Hazelden. Mindell, A. (1995). Sitting in the fire. Portland, OR: Lao Tse Press. Reiss, G. (2000). Changing ourselves, changing the world. Tempe, AZ: New Falcon Press. Reiss, G. (2004). Beyond war and peace in the Arab Israeli conflict. Eugene, OR: Changing Worlds Press.

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Obstacles to Asymmetry: Personal and Professional Lessons in IsraeliPalestinian Crisis and Reconciliation Isaac Mendelsohn

This chapter is based on the 18 years I have worked toward reconciliation between Israelis and Palestinians, including personal lessons and professional perspectives on trauma, group and community work, techniques of dialogue, and factors affecting reconciliation in violent conflicts. I draw on encounters with groups of Palestinians and Israelis and also on the experience of being the victim of a terrorist attack. In October 1994, a Palestinian went on a shooting spree in Jerusalem, firing into the restaurant where I was dining with my son and a friend. I suffered multiple gunshot wounds that remain with me, though not so debilitating. This experience taught me not to dismiss any person’s pain and has prevented me from joining any side of the conflict that inflicts injustice or violation of human rights, but it also confirmed my commitment to work actively for peace. That commitment started before the first intifada—the Palestinian uprising against Israeli occupation in 1987—when I met with a group of Palestinians and Israelis in a small town south of Jerusalem to initiate an honest dialogue to promote cooperation. Both groups were opposed to the occupation and committed to human rights. In November 2005, I returned to two Palestinian towns under occupation—Dir El Hattab and Salem, near Nablus in the West Bank—to coordinate reparation activities, repairing damages and reducing suffering. A few weeks earlier, I had helped restructure the KEDEM project (Kol Dati Mafayes), a moderate voice of religious reconciliation made up of Orthodox rabbis, community leaders, educators, and Israeli, Muslim, and Christian leaders, which aims to decrease injustice and increase mutual respect and equality between Arabs and Jews. The project is constantly marked by tensions due to the violence between Israeli settlers, Israeli Arabs, and Palestinians of the Occupied Territories.

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In the conflict, basically, the Israelis seek security with methods that increase injustices and so-called colonization of their Arab neighbors, whereas the Arabs seek to increase their freedom and human rights though their methods threaten Israeli security.

Personal Conflicts as an Activist for Reconciliation A major emotional challenge in my work has been to manage feelings of guilt and responsibility. It has been difficult to contain the suffering of victims of terrorist attacks, parents of soldiers killed during conflicts with the Palestinians, and the pain of so many orphans and wounded that both intifadas and years of terror have left in their wake on both sides. It is also complex to manage the feelings of belonging to a group (Israelis) who can be perceived as oppressors. Often I feel caught between the devil and the deep blue sea, justifying the use of force sometimes, but other times, viewing such force as an abuse of power. These conflicts create feelings of vulnerability, frustration, and anger that must be controlled and tamed for me to maintain a constructive dialogue with other Israelis, members of the community trying to mediate this conflict, and representatives of the Palestinians. My world outlook is influenced by the fact that I am a Jewish immigrant from Mexico. Throughout years of terrorist acts and war between the Jews and Palestinians, I have confronted situations of personal and collective danger, feeling unprotected, impotent, guilty, and ashamed in response to the Israeli Army invasion of Palestinian homes, the violation of basic human rights, and the suffering and death of innocent people. At times, I feel self-critical and alienated from my Jewish identity, yet I can also resort to it when national and extremist ideologies want to destroy the Jewish presence in the world. Although upset by the hatred that Islamic extremists hold toward Jews and the international community identified with the Jewish and capitalist world, I am also troubled by extremism that justifies acts of death and destruction to innocent victims around the world, from Israel to the United States, Madrid, London, and Bali. I am sure that many Israelis and Palestinians experience the same moral dilemmas. I gain comfort from knowing that such internal conflicts can have a positive outcome, such as in dialogues between the two sides that allow open communication. I search for compassion for those who want to harm us, I confront those who want to exterminate us, and I find security in knowing that dialogue with the so-called enemy can have more healing power than bullets aimed at eliminating the “other’s” existence. To strengthen my resources to confront these conflicts, I visited Rwanda four times. The first occasion was in 1998, after the fourth anniversary of the April 1994 genocide in which, within 100 days, the Hutu ethnic majority slaughtered close to 800,000 people, most of whom belonged to the Tutsi ethnic minority. In Rwanda, I began to understand how much internal strength is required of victims to put aside rancor and vengeance and how great the challenge is to trans-



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form attitudes of hate and violence toward the perpetrators into a process of reconciliation. To reconcile is to form a new relationship between victim and perpetrator without force, whereby the victim is able to forgive (and maybe forget) and the perpetrator accepts responsibility for any harm produced. If the perpetrator refuses to accept responsibility, it is more difficult for the victim to forgive or forget. Two guiding principles of reconciliation are that it is necessary for the parties to legitimize suffering and regain dignity, and it can happen without the use of force, destruction, and annihilation. Being personally involved in the Israeli-Arab conflict requires balancing opposing individual and collective, moral as well as legal positions that create or perpetuate the dynamics of violence. Furthermore, because I belong to the side of those who inflict injustice, oppression, and military violence, I must continually raise the voice of nonconformity and avoid being turned into an accomplice of actions that the collective group may commit. Being an activist demands confronting criticism from both sides; Israelis consider peace activists as possible traitors to the cause, whereas Palestinians view all Israelis as occupiers and justify their acts of violence as retribution to Israeli violence. Managing these internal conflicts is essential for me to remain able to listen to the suffering of both Israelis and Palestinians. Listening to arguments from both sides helps me understand the justifications both sides use for continuing the cycle of violence. Because of this understanding, I can alert both sides about the dangers of using suffering to produce more suffering, and I can help moderates admit the impotence they feel in the face of extremists. At the same time, it allows me to differentiate between those who have been the victims of multiple violence and those willing to pay any price to safeguard their religious entitlement to all of the Promised Land. Thanks to this understanding, I can sustain an open dialogue with even those Palestinians who use their traumatic experiences to justify attacks on Jews. I can also demand that my Palestinian friends assume responsibility for violent acts committed toward innocent Israelis. This understanding allows me to relate to Palestinians on a more human level of reciprocity that acknowledges destruction promoted by both parties, accepts collective responsibility, identifies differences evolving from asymmetry between the two, and finds similarities in violence on both sides. An example of this reciprocity involves my request from a Palestinian opposed to violence to write a letter of condolence to the children of a woman killed by his neighbor. The neighbor, who killed the woman to avenge Palestinian losses, had been employed as a gardener by the murdered woman for many years. The Palestinian told me that many townspeople disagreed with the murder but said he could be considered as a collaborator with Israeli authorities if he conceded to sending the condolence letter. I, too, had to confront fears, uncertainty, and stress in this situation but decided that I had a right to ask for a gesture that indicates reciprocity, that this request was a reflection of my respect for him because we both disapproved of the neighbor’s brutal and disloyal action, and that my request would

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create reciprocity that put us on equal ground as both giver and receiver. Afterward, I became better able to seek reciprocity in situations with similar asymmetry. By acknowledging mutual dignity and equality, reciprocity restores symmetry in relationships. Although requests for reciprocity do not change the objective reality of the situation (e.g., occupation), they drastically change the perception the two participants have on a subjective, psychic, and emotional level (e.g., that we Israelis have as occupiers and the Palestinians have as being occupied). Despite such progress over my years of activism, I cannot help feeling frustrated that dialogue with both suffering parties has had less influence on the dynamics of the conflict than I would hope.

Lessons as a Professional in the Field of Psychology Dialogue is an open communication of mutually respectful listening to narratives of both parties. My professional lessons about dialogue as a means of reconciliation have focused on psychological obstacles in this process. These obstacles manifest in three areas: interpersonal, cultural, and behavioral.

Interpersonal Obstacles Psychological obstacles in interpersonal interactions result from asymmetry between the collective identities of Palestinians and Israelis. Participants in dialogue can help identify this asymmetry and establish reciprocity despite impediments imposed by military, economic, and infrastructural inequalities in the cultures, instead of attacking each other and denying their own weaknesses. Asymmetries may be in the use of violence (related to the type of destructive means used by each side: a well organized and efficient army on the Israeli side compared to Palestinian snipers shooting at passing cars or suicide bombers setting off explosives in public places) or in the suffering or use of suffering to justify actions that create more suffering. Israelis and Palestinians frequently compete over who suffers more. When Palestinians protest daily difficulties imposed on them, Israelis protest terrorist attacks by Palestinians that restrict their daily lives and leave staggering numbers of innocent victims, leading to dueling claims that “We have suffered more deaths,” or “Look at our demolished houses” and “We are humiliated at checkpoints,” or battling over terms like suicide terrorists to Israelis, which are called martyrs by Palestinians. In such disputes, I point out that both parties are using personal and collective suffering to create guilt in the other and to justify suffering inflicted during combat as well as during the dialogue itself. Although Palestinians try to induce guilt in the Israelis for acts of aggression, Israelis, for their part, rush to justify military aggression as acts of defense, using arguments such as, “That is what you deserve for attacking us.” To break this impasse, as facilitator, I ask participants to note how they use their suffering and to become aware of underlying intentions. Suffering used to attack creates more suffering; when both sides become conscious of their motivations, however, they realize that suffering has similar consequences for both



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sides, allowing empathy that leads to understanding of mutual pain and motivation to repair the damage. The majority of Israelis who participate in dialogues with Palestinians identify with leftist ideologies that make them feel guilty toward the Palestinians and assume responsibility for any oppressive actions of the Israeli Army and government. Given this asymmetry, there is little insistence during dialogue sessions that Palestinians take responsibility for their acts of violence. In contrast, during dialogues with Israelis who identify with right-wing ideologies, the Palestinian responsibility is discussed, along with justification of the use of force used by the army and the government in the name of security. This puts the Palestinians in a position of desperation and humiliation, similar to the way they feel in real life. Neither side assumes responsibility for the violence and, in justifying it, perpetuates it and moves farther from reconciliation. Assuming responsibility for violence perpetrated by one’s own group allows for a decrease in violence. In my opinion, international mediators tend to identify Palestinians as victims because of their suffering. In doing so, they perpetuate asymmetry between the two sides, which prevents equal assumption of responsibility in maintaining the cycle of violence, which I consider vital for reconciliation.

Cultural Obstacles Israelis and Palestinians have respective cultural codes of thought and conduct that affect conflict tensions and resolution of conflicts. These codes deserve extensive anthropological analysis, but I have identified three patterns: the use of time, the level of risk, and interpersonal tensions when making decisions. The Use of Time in the Dialogues Time is either chronological (controlled by humans) or cyclical (defined by nature, country, or seasons of the year). Chronological time is defined in hours and minutes, such as a meeting that has a distinct beginning and end; cyclical time is a natural phenomenon that can be circular, such as transitions from day to night, and unpredictable, such as the change from sunshine to rain, which cannot be controlled or used for precise planning. Many dialogue and reconciliation efforts are initiated by Israelis whose planning, design, and execution are based on chronological time, often creating misunderstandings with Palestinians, who tend to function according to cyclical time. Thus, in situations requiring a decision within a defined period of time, Israelis are more aware than Palestinians of the need to meet a deadline and produce a result. Saying, “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there” implies cyclical time in which there is no need to decide right away. In my opinion, such a difference in time perceptions was one of the contributing factors in the failure of the Camp David negotiations in which then-U.S. President Bill Clinton and then-Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak acted on chronological time, taking into account the meeting in Japan and elections in

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Israel and the United States and pressuring the parties to make decisions, whereas then-Palestinian leader Yasir Arafat maintained a timing rhythm of unpredictable cyclic negotiations. The Level of Risk in Making Decisions Emotions related to the self-image of occupier and occupied determine how much risk both parties are willing to take or are capable of taking when making decisions. In most dialogue groups, difficulties occur when the need arises to assess and make decisions about reparations, with the result that neither party makes a decision. Discussion revolves around issues such as repression, violence, and injustice rather than empathetic issues such as fears and uncertainty about each other. As a result, when Palestinians accuse Israelis by saying, “You wait for Arabs to do all the work that you should be doing,” Israelis retaliate by saying, “What more do Arabs want? They keep demanding more concessions and looking for ways to vanish us into the sea.” The way to get out of this no-win situation is to become aware of deeper issues that cause cultural divides, such as distrust, to let go of stereotypes in which the other is seen as the enemy or victim, and to listen to each other without judgment. Interpersonal Tensions in Decision-Making Moments Internal loyalties within each group can impede reaching agreement, a phenomenon I observed in a group of religious leaders. When Palestinian members had to make a decision that triggered tensions between them, they would postpone the decision-making process, following a vital cultural code that requires respect for the other members of one’s own group such that someone feeling offended can lead to violence and irreversible damage and worry over creating tension between people who have to live with each other in the same space, family, or community. I have noticed a pattern whereby Israelis may force quick agreements to demonstrate decisive action, whereas Palestinians take their time or may even agree but then delay and do not act accordingly—for no apparent reason or for reasons such as avoiding the shame of being perceived as siding with the enemy—or not participate in further contact, expecting that as time goes by, the commitment can be taken back (complicating the pattern of avoidance by adhering to cyclical time).

Behavioral Obstacles Palestinians who indicate willingness to participate in reconciliation projects with Israelis can be considered as collaborating with the enemy and, therefore, take great risks to do so. Or they may feel pressured to gain considerable concessions from Israelis to prove loyalty to the group and their own empowerment. Reciprocity and Honest Good-Natured Intention to Change Actions that restore damages from occupation must follow the two principles of reciprocity (that concessions are equally made by both Israelis and Palestinians) and



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of honest and good-natured intention (that acts of giving and receiving are considered equal). That means that Israelis’ reparations are not perceived as acts of charity motivated by guilt for Palestinians or pity for their inferior position or lack of resources and that Palestinians extend equal trust and respect, not delaying the peace process. “Subjective” Palestinian concessions should be considered equal to “objective” Israeli concessions (e.g., medical help, legal representation in military and civil courts, elimination of security measures that oppress the dignity and daily lives of the Palestinians). In lessons about giving and receiving, Israelis should ask for concessions from Palestinian partners, despite any guilt about asking when the other party feels oppressed and has a greater need to receive than to give. I have learned that it is an error to give when motivated by guilt or to give more than what the receiver can process. I have also learned to value the act of requesting, realizing that the giver assumes the same position as the one who requests or receives. Giving should not be perceived as an insult; rather, find out what is needed to ensure self-sufficiency of the requester so that what is given is seen as a compliment and offered willingly. I also learned that it is important to avoid requesting what is not needed and, despite being a victim of occupation, to ask for what the other one might be able to give, not just to get without even needing, but to reinforce reciprocity.

Conclusions and Summary In summary, my experience shows me that giving and receiving with reciprocity in situations of asymmetry is a complex but valuable art. Like all arts, it requires intuition and skill. I have been discovering the skills of giving and requesting (and receiving) in conditions of asymmetry day by day with my Jewish and Palestinian partners. For acts of reconciliation to be effective and to produce changes on a subjective level, it is imperative to promote forgiveness, which is more likely when the other party accepts responsibility for any oppression or harm. Individual group forgiveness and acceptance of responsibility are steps to national forgiveness and acceptance of responsibility. Although this stage is still far away for many in both camps of this conflict, especially on the national level, activist groups do achieve this, creating some reconciliation. My own experience as the victim of terror and years of professional activism and dialogue have helped me understand the psychological difficulties of reconciliation on a personal and national level. Yet there is hope. Small steps in activism and small changes in participants in dialogues show promise for how this should be carried out by those responsible for national decisions and on a larger scale.

Note The author gratefully acknowledges the translation and editing of Isis Otero and Hava Haberfeld.

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Collective Identity Terror in the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict and Potential Solutions Ibrahim Kira

This chapter presents the usefulness of the theory of collective identity terror management (CITM) to better understand the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and to present this approach to dealing with collective identity trauma as a basis of various strategies to work toward solutions to the conflict. Current terror management theories that focus only on individual identity as it affects a situation and ignore collective identity fail to predict and provide an understanding of group conflict and violence. For example, examining only an individual’s view of death (e.g., mortality salience) and proposing self-esteem as a buffer against fear of death cannot convincingly assess, predict, or explain events whereby people who fear death end up killing themselves (Pyszczynski, Greenberg, & Solomon, 1999). A stronger paradigm to explain such events would take into account factors such as collective identity and fear of collective identity death or group identity annihilation (Kira, 2002). The broader view of collective identity terror management shifts the focus from self-esteem as a buffer against mortality salience to the importance of selfefficacy and identity agency, which refers to the individual in the context of his or her environment; in other words, whether the environment is perceived as predictable, controllable, and safe against the fear of annihilation or extinction of the group or the individual (Bandura, 1995). This concept clearly relates to the Palestinians, who perceive that the denial of statehood reflects their annihilation as a group. It also applies to the Israelis, because of previous attempts throughout history to annihilate, for example the Holocaust, and because groups—including factions within the Palestinian movement as well a head of a Middle Eastern state—have publicly declared their intention to annihilate and destruct their statehood, which implies their annihilation as a group.

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What is identity? Identity comprises the skills and related attitudes about autonomy and interdependence that a person achieves through the developmental stages of the individuation process. Consciously or unconsciously, these become essential to the individual’s sense of survival and include beliefs about his/ her physical being, personal autonomy, and independence and about her/his social roles as a member who belongs to or identifies with gender, religious, and ethnic groups (Berzonsky, 2004; Simon, & Klandermans, 2001; Turner & Onorato, 1999). Identity is built on two major dimensions: the personal self based on an awareness of physical existence and the achievement of autonomy and the social self as reflected in interpersonal relationships and interdependence with others as well as in membership with collectives or social groups. Based on this framework, there are four sources of trauma (serious threats to existence) that can occur to identity and that are relevant to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. These include trauma that emerges from physical identity (related to fear of death), personal identity, interpersonal identity (related to fear of identity annihilation or loss of autonomy), and collective identity (related to fear of collective annihilation or subjugation of the group). Some multilateral and cumulative traumas, such as those emanating from torture, can combine several of these traumas and can affect more than one part of the self-identity (Kira, 2001). Studies provide empirical evidence that collective identity trauma is more damaging from a health and mental health perspective, compared to other types of identity and nonidentity traumas, for example, family upsets or loss of valued attachments (Kira, Templin, Lewandowski, Hammad, & Mohanesh, 2005). Four types of traumatic events that can affect identity include: Type I, which is a single, one-time trauma (e.g., rape or car accident); Type II, which is a single traumatic episode continued over time and may stop (e.g., sexual abuse); Type III, which can fluctuate from covert to overt but is continuous and ongoing (e.g., racism and discrimination); Type IV, which is cumulative and multilateral (e.g., torture). Traumas in the current Israeli-Palestinian situation can include any variation of these types, from individual Type I trauma for any Israeli or Palestinian injured in an attack during the current intifada to Type III or Type IV trauma experienced by a group of Israelis and Palestinians subjected to continuous violence (through bombings of buses or homes). Collective identity trauma can be transmitted cross-generationally (to different generations during the same period of time) or over a long period of time (such as happens in the case of intergenerational or historical traumas). The latter include the Holocaust, threats to extinction experienced by the Israelis over hundreds of years, and trauma of the Palestinians over losing a land or statehood and that some are forced to take refuge. Intergenerational trauma also includes social-structural traumas, such as extreme poverty and minority status associated with serious disparities, racism, or discrimination—such as that experienced currently by many Palestinians (Kira, 2001; Volcan, 1996, 1999).



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Any of the types of trauma can result in post-traumatic stress disorders (PTSDs), but personal, interpersonal, and collective identity traumas of Types II, III, and IV can lead not only to individual clinical states (resulting in PTSD) but also to psychopathology on multiple social and political levels, including sociopathy, and political and historical conflicts, including homicide and organized suicide terrorism. In the latter case, collective identity trauma can trigger threats about survival of the group that can then lead to the individual de-emphasizing the importance of his/her own individual mortality and sacrificing the self in deference to the group’s needs. Threats to identity trigger a wide range of reactions that, in turn, trigger strategies to cope with such crises. For example, threats to identity can cause self-annihilation panic that, in turn, evokes psychotic symptoms, homicide, or even suicidal tendencies that, although seeming contradictory, actually serve as a fantasized way of restoring autonomy or self-mastery (Hurvich, 1991). Similarly, if collective identity is seriously threatened, group annihilation fears can erupt, and this can overrule fears of personal physical mortality and lead to the phenomenon of group suicide, as happened in 70 c.e. when 900 Jews killed themselves and their children at Masada to avoid capture and enslavement by the Romans or as is evident in current-day acts of homicide or suicide terrorism such as those carried out by Palestinian extremist groups. Such strategies can be aimed at exacting group revenge or symbolically restoring group control. They may be carried out by cults, organized terrorist groups (e.g., the attacks of September 11, 2001, on the World Trade Center in New York), or by a state (e.g., the Armenian genocide; Kalayjian & Weisberg, 2002; McCauley, 2002; Merari, 2002). Collective identity terror that persists throughout generations can accumulate trauma. When left poorly resolved or totally unresolved, these collective identity traumas can be overlooked as key causal factors in social and political conflicts and individual violence, such as is evident for both the Israelis and Palestinians in their need for a homeland and their experience of being persecuted. Generational collective trauma is evident in the multiple historical traumas experienced by the Jewish people, dating back to oppression and enslavement by Egyptian pharaohs, losing their Promised Land, multiple destructions of their temples, and the more recent massacre in the Holocaust. Yet in the face of such severe traumas over thousands of years, they managed to preserve their group identity and religion, resisting annihilation or religious conversion, and demonstrating how cross-generational transmission of trauma can be powerful and lasting but also tolerated, overcome, and even result in posttraumatic growth. Commitment to a goal can be seen as a way to cope with cross-generational or Type IV traumas, as proved by the Jews’ return to their land and establishing the state of Israel. Similar collective identity trauma—in not having a home motivates Palestinians, Muslims, and Christians—that if not achieved will likely be transmittable throughout generations.

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How CITM Theory Can Be Helpful in Solving the IsraeliPalestinian Conflict How can we diffuse this conflict that resulted from persistent cross-generational transmission of cumulative collective traumas? I believe that Palestinian and Jewish people can live together in peace in one confederated state or two different states, provided that interventions disrupt cross-generational (long-standing) collective identity trauma and challenge radical factions of organized religions—whether Muslim, Christian, or Jewish—that are vehicles for such transmission. Although religion itself can be a healing force, factions that transform religion into political and cultural institutions to achieve self-serving gains perpetuate conflict and continuous suffering. Instead of groups using religion to carry out vendettas, actions should be taken to achieve retributive and restorative justice for persons and organizations affected on both sides, to facilitate efforts toward reconciliation, conflict resolution, and peace. Mental health professionals and educators can play an important role in helping the Israeli and Palestinian communities confront and recover from their respective collective traumas. One approach is to conduct community psychoeducational interventions about the vicious cycle of cross-generation transmission of hatred and revenge. The technique of dialoguing (meeting between peoples in conflict to facilitate reconciliation through sharing stories and active listening) can also be helpful to achieve reconciliation and emotional healing between the two groups, which is necessary to prevent the extremism that perpetuates trauma and to effect long-lasting social change (Volcan, 1999). Cross-generational transmission of trauma is enhanced, modified, or curtailed by individual, family, social, cultural, political, and other ecological and metasystem dynamics that offer windows for intervention. These include programs such as the one developed by psychologist-professor Dan Bar-On, who attempted to overcome the intergenerational transmission of the trauma of the Holocaust by establishing dialogue between perpetrators and victims’ descendants (BarOn, 1996); 2001 UNESCO Peace Prize for Education winner Givat Haviva’s Jewish Arab Education Center for Peace, which used dialogues between Palestinian and Israeli youths to resolve conflict (http://www.dialogate.org.il); and the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), which has been applied to heal two traumatized societies at the end of apartheid in South Africa as well as in Argentina and Guatemala (Swartz & Drennan, 2000). Such efforts must be developed on a large scale that matches the severity of the conflict. The role of charismatic leaders to assist reconciliation is crucial, as evidenced by the efforts of Anwar el-Sadat in Egypt and Nelson Mandela in South Africa. Another approach to cross-generational healing with families suffering from collective trauma is family therapy that emphasizes containment of anxiety, exploration of feelings about loss, acknowledgment of historical experiences of trauma, and validation of fears of annihilation or destruction. Therapy should address any unconscious denial of fears of death and extinction and any events that rekindle existential terror of annihilation and death.



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Social, collective, and political wounds require integrative psychosocial, psychopolitical, and collective healing (Isotuba, 2000). Therefore, the most effective models for treatment of psychopolitical traumas are multidisciplinary, addressing multiple levels, including legal, psychological, educational, economic, social, and cultural, and community-focused interventions that use the social support of the extended family and informal and formal organizations to build strength and promote resilience (Kira, 2002). The goal of treatment, whatever techniques may be used, should not only be to break the intergenerational transmission of trauma and to heal and resolve grief but also to restore, enable, or rebuild a more resilient personal and collective identity.

References Bandura, A. (1995). Exercise of personal and collective efficacy in changing societies. In A. Bandura (Ed.), Self-efficacy in changing societies (pp. 1–45). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Bar-On, D. T. (1996). Attempting to overcome the intergenerational transmission of trauma: Dialogue between descendants of victims and perpetrators. In R. Apfeb & B. Simon (Eds.), Minefields in their hearts: The mental health of children in war and communal violence (pp. 165–188). New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Berzonsky, M. (2004). Identity style, parental authority, and identity commitment. Journal of Youth and Adolescence, 33, 213–220. Hurvich, M. (1991). Annihilation anxiety: An introduction. In H. Siegel et al. (Eds.), Psychoanalytic reflections on current issues (pp. 135–154). New York: New York University Press. Isotuba, C. (2000). PTSD as a social wound: Do social wounds require social healing? Dissertation Abstracts International: Section B. The Sciences and Engineering, 61 (6-B), 3280. Kalayjian, A., & Weisberg, M. (2002, August). Generational impact of mass trauma: The post-Ottoman Turkish genocide of the Armenians. Paper presented at the American Psychological Association Annual Convention, Chicago. Kira, I. (2001). Taxonomy of trauma and trauma assessment. Traumatology: An International E-Journal, 2, 1–14. Kira, I. (2002, August). Suicide, terror and collective trauma: A collective terror management paradigm. Paper presented at the American Psychological Association Annual Convention, Chicago. Retrieved June 30, 2006, from Psych Extra data base. Kira, I., Templin, T., Lewandowski, L., Hammad, A., & Mohanesh, J. (2005, November). The effects of collective identity trauma/discrimination and racisms. Paper presented at the U.S. Psychiatric and Mental Health Congress, Las Vegas, NV. McCauley, C. (2002, August). Understanding the 9/11 perpetrators: Crazy, lost in hate, or martyred. Paper presented at the American Psychological Association Annual Convention, Chicago. Merari, A. (2002, August). Explaining suicidal terrorism: Theories vs. empirical evidence. Paper presented at the American Psychological Association Annual Convention, Chicago. Pyszczynski, T., Greenberg, J., & Solomon, S. (1999). A dual-process model of defense against conscious and unconscious death-related thoughts: An extension of terror management theory. Psychological Review, 106, 835–845.

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Simon, B., & Klandermans, B. (2001). Politicized collective identity: A social psychological analysis. American Psychologist, 56, 319–331. Swartz, L., & Drennan, G. (2000). The cultural construction of healing in the Truth and Reconciliation Commission: Implication for mental health practice. Ethnicity and Health, 5, 205–213. Turner, J., & Onorato, R. (1999). Social identity, personality and the self-concept: A selfcategorization perspective. In T. R. Tyler, R. M. Kramer, & O. John (Eds.), The psychology of social self (pp. 11–46). Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum. Volcan, V. (1996). Intergenerational transmission of “chosen traumas”: A link between the psychology of the individual and that of ethnic group. In L. Rangell & R. MosesHrushovski (Eds.), Psychoanalysis at the political border: Essays on honor of Rafael Moses (pp. 257–282). Madison, CT: International Universities Press. Volcan, V. (1999). The tree model: A comprehensive psycho-political approach to unofficial diplomacy and the reduction of ethnic tension. Mind and Human Interactions, 3, 152–210.

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In Search of My Identity: The Value of Humor about the Arab-Israeli Conflict Ray Hanania

It’s tough being an Arab comedian. If an American comic gets invited to the White House, his career takes off like a shot. If I get invited, I get shot. All I want to do is star in a TV show called Everyone Loves Abdullah. Or, maybe, Married with 30 Children. My life is unusual. I’m Palestinian, and my wife is Jewish. I know people come up to her and ask, “Are you nuts?” They come up to me and say, “Very smart move, Ray.”

These are some of my routines in my stand-up comedy act, which I call “Comedy for Peace.” I have this crazy idea that humor can help bridge the gap between Palestinians and Israelis and Americans and Arabs, propelling me to perform around the United States, from Seattle to New York, at colleges and universities and a few comedy clubs that are not afraid to book a Palestinian comic. Fitting in as Palestinian has not been easy. When I was young, other children crowded around me one day and demanded to know, “What are you?” “What am I? I’m American,” I said. “No, you’re not,” was the reply. That night, I went to the person I most trusted to answer the question: my dad. “Don’t tell them you’re Palestinian,” Dad said with fear. I later learned it was because the 1967 Arab-Israeli War had just taken place. “Tell them you are Syrian. Or, better yet, Lebanese.” The next day in school, when kids surrounded me again and demanded to know what I was, I replied, “My dad says I am ‘cereal,’ but I think my mom is a lesbian.” (In case you didn’t get it, those were twists on “Syrian” and “Lebanese.”)

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Of course, everyone at school wanted to be “cereal.” That was my first taste of being funny. Life for me has always been an issue of confused identity and confronting animosity that being me—and where I came from—triggered. Although I was born in the United States and served in the U.S. Air Force during the Vietnam War, I was always questioned as not being American. Then, too, I am not only an Arab; I am a Christian Arab, something many Americans do not recognize. I am often mistaken for a Muslim, but Muslims treat me as an outsider, being part of the Arab Christian minority thrown back and forth like political pawns in the Arab-Israeli conflict. I turned to journalism and communications as the answer to my identity dilemma to understand cultural differences in expression. Arabs who immigrated to this country came from countries where free speech did not exist, and, as a result, many Arabs and Muslims have a difficult time accepting self-criticism, something Americans have no problem with. Although there is humor in the Arab world, there is very little social satire that challenges societal norms, government, and politics. In contrast, U.S. stand-up comedy is as much an expression of social satire as an effort to make people laugh. I remained on the defensive about my identity throughout the 1970s, ’80s, and ’90s. During those decades, the Middle East conflict was not at the top of U.S. news reports, and most mainstream media excluded Arab and Muslim voices. I know because I was one of the few Arabs in the mainstream media in the United States for more than a quarter of a century. But nothing has been more traumatic for me than the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. On that day, the question changed from “Who are you?” to “Why did you do it?” The first time I was asked that question, it came from three friends at a journalism dinner at Columbia College in Chicago. My best friend, a TV producer presumably educated and intelligent, asked me angrily, “Why did you do it?” What could I say? I answered in an attempt to be funny: “Listen. I just went through three cavity searches and an hour-long security check just to get my dinner seat. And I can’t sit down. I’m not in a mood to answer ‘Why.’ ” It worked; my friends laughed. It was an extemporaneous, unplanned, offthe-cuff response that just came out and turned out to make people laugh and do more to ease the situation than any serious response I might have considered. That is when I got hooked on stand-up comedy. Stand-up comedy is a very American phenomenon and also very Jewish American. It is more than simply making jokes; it is making a statement about life, yourself, and the society in which you live. I bought books on the history of Jewish American comedy as I realized that Jews, who had been the victims of anti-Semitism and religious hatred, often used humor to deflect hatred against them and to give them strength to deal with that hatred. Jewish comedians showed audiences that they could make fun of themselves and find humor in tragedy.



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When it comes to hatred, there are different kinds of people in the world. One kind hates you because you are Jewish, Muslim, or Arab. They know who you are and hate you for it out of prejudice. They want to demean someone else in a perverted way to build their own self-worth. Hatred makes them feel more ominous, bigger than life. No matter what you do, you cannot change them. Humor cannot reach them. Another kind of people do not hate Jews, Muslims, or Arabs and start out not really knowing who you are but end up hating you because they simply cannot comprehend Arabs in the context of some extreme pain or confusing event like September 11. They want to know “Why?” but have no answer, so they end up angry and frustrated and taking it out on you. For the second group—the majority of Americans—humor can reach into their soul to help them understand the “other.” Once a person laughs with you, you have changed them and their feeling toward you. It is harder for them to hate you. Laughter also builds bridges with others who do not understand; it is easy to hate a stranger but hard to hate someone you know. Humor turns a stranger into a friend. Humor evokes uncontrollable compassion, breaks down barriers of fear, reinforces kindness, and opens the door to better relations. Thus, we can use humor to change the way the majority of Americans react to us as Arabs, breaking through their fears and helping them understand. After the September 11 attacks on the World Trade Center, a man sent me an e-mail threatening to kill me. As a syndicated columnist and journalist, I write about controversial topics, often provoking readers by challenging their stereotypes and debating politics and policies. I receive many similar letters and emails, but this writer also signed his name and included his address. He lived only a few blocks from my home. I called the local police, and they visited his home. When they asked him why he would do that, noting that I was a U.S. veteran and that my dad and uncle both defended the United States during World War II, he responded candidly, “Oh. I must have threatened the wrong Arab.” As life would have it, my road to define my identity has taken some unusual twists and turns. For example, although I am a Christian Palestinian, I married a Jew. Some people think that is strange, but the reality is that my marriage to Alison feels natural, because Jews and Arabs have so much in common. The Palestinian-Israeli conflict is so challenging partly because Arabs and Jews are actually so similar. We share the same history and similar cultures. We love the same food. Our religions—Christian, Muslim, and Jewish—turn us all toward one geographic region in the world where we find solace and worship. Most Americans cannot tell the difference between Palestinians and Pakistanis or between Arabs and Jews. How do I explain how easily we can live together while our people literally tear each other apart with little hope for the future? The answer is to treat other people as humans. Alison and I do not define ourselves by the Middle East con-

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flict that says that Jews and Arabs cannot live together. We define ourselves by the respect we have for each other, and of course we add some humor. Ironically, human nature allows people to forgive strangers more than their own kind. When you are betrayed by a family member or relative, forgiveness is difficult. The worst battles are often between two people who are related. After September 11, when my experiences pushed me into stand-up comedy, I turned everyday experiences about my identity that I laugh about with friends and family into monologues meant to stimulate dialogue with the public, both here in the United States and also in Israel and Palestine. My stand-up act lampoons not only my life as an Arab growing up in the United States but also my life as a Palestinian married to a Jew. People are surprised to learn my wife is a Jew. I explain in my comedy routine: We met in a little Chicago suburb called Cicero, which has many Mexicans and Italians. I didn’t know she was a Jew, and she didn’t know I was Palestinian. She thought I was a Mexican who couldn’t speak Spanish, and I thought she was just a very cheap Italian. We had 900 people at our wedding. We only sent out 24 invitations. At the wedding, we had all the Arabs on one side and all the Jews on the other side. We didn’t have a bridal party; we had a UN peacekeeping force right down the middle aisle. And, they were flicking pita and matzo crackers at each other the whole time, a continuation of a biblical battle over which side invented hummus: Arabs or Jews. When we got married, I had to sign a katubah, the Jewish marriage contract. Every religion has a marriage contract, but when you are Jewish and you marry someone Palestinian, you’d be smart to add a few provisions in that contract. For example, it says my relatives can’t come to visit without a week’s notice, a security clearance, and a visa. Her relatives can come and go as they please. They get keys to the house. They’re called settlers. It says I can get a divorce if there are 18 straight days of peace in the Middle East. She has already told me if I leave, I have no “Right of Return.”

With a friend and seasoned broadcast journalist, David Lewis, we made Palestinian humor the foundation of our company, Comedy for Peace. Our goal is to bring Israeli and Palestinian stand-up comedians together on stage. Humor is not the answer to the problem we face as a people, but it can help. I did several comedy shows in Israel and Palestine in October 2004, including one at the home of the consulate-general of Jerusalem. The show brought together about 70 Palestinian and Israeli activists and leaders. The consul-general commented after the show that it was the first time since the second intifada erupted that he had Palestinians and Israelis together in the same room. My motto: If we can laugh together, we can live together. Of course, that does not mean there are not a few wrinkles in my marriage. Alison insists on painting a Green Line through the house. She gets 78 percent of the home, and I get 22.

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Caught in the Middle: Identity Conflicts of Arab Adolescents in Israel Salman Elbedour, Anthony J. Onwuegbuzie, Aref  AbuRabia, Persephone Brown, and Qun G. Jiao

Attention has been paid to identity issues of Palestinians and Israeli Jews as they affect the conflict in the Middle East, but little investigation has been made of the effects of this social construct on marginalized groups living in the region who are directly or indirectly affected by this political and psychosocial dispute and who also can have an impact on the two warring cultures. This chapter addresses the identity and conflicts of one such group—Bedouins, consisting of nearly 1.4 million people from 27 different tribes—who are caught in the middle in that they have a dual identity that is both Palestinian and Israeli but also hold a marginal status with respect to both groups. Identity can be both ethnic and social and refers to a set of ideals, values, behaviors, and attitudes that pertain to one’s membership in a socially distinguished entity formed by those who share a common ancestry, culture, race, religion, or language or who embrace a specific culture or nationality or values (Feagin, 1978; Phinney, 2000). Identity is often formed by shared values of an in-group in comparison to an out-group (Sherif & Sherif, 1953). All these factors operate for the Israelis and Palestinians and less clearly in the case of conflicted Bedouins. Four identities are possible for the Bedouins: integration or biculturalism, with strong identification with both Palestinians and Israelis; marginality, identifying with neither group; assimilation, or identification with the majority Israeli culture; or separation, identifying only with the ethnic Palestinian group and culture. The Israeli Bedouins have a complex approach of avoiding conflict regarding the warring factions. Although their structural invisible status within the Israeli society and racial origins can compel many young Bedouins to embrace their

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Arab Palestinian racial and ethnic heritage and identify with the Palestinian cause, this stance presents the young Bedouin as a disloyal Israeli citizen, not identified with the Israeli worldview. Additionally, although they are part of the Palestinian community by racial origin, by virtue of their Israeli citizenship and other factors, they are a minority, outsiders, or the out-group within the Palestinian community and incompletely assimilated into the Palestinian ethnic enclave because of their cultural distinctiveness and limited participation in standard Palestinian ethos, geographical isolation, historical discontinuities, and the long-standing influence of Israeli cultural and social values (Ghanem, 2001; International Crisis Group, 2004). Land disputes are another source of conflicted identification. Forced by Israeli authorities to move to urban settlements after 1948, the Bedouin community had to change its traditional nomadic structure and lifestyle, which caused decreased self-esteem and lack of control over its destiny because the Bedouins are no longer employed in traditional occupations like sheepherding and agrarian activities. Although this move was made ostensibly to improve social services of the Bedouins, in fact, the education, the quality of homes, and public services were perceived as inadequate and inferior to those of the Israelis (­Bailey, 2002; BenDavid, 1995). These two phenomena can lead to a potential identification with current Palestinian concerns over displacement of their home and also over inferior conditions. Further identification with Palestinians is evident from the fact that some Bedouins immigrated to Arab countries such as Jordan for a more secure environment and, after 1967, Bedouin Arabs were less isolated from Arab neighbors, with the result of that some reconnected with relatives, sought education in the West Bank, or married Palestinian women, partly because of their higher education level (Dinero, 2000; Ghanem, 2001). On a psychological level, this joint but complex membership in both groups causes a cognitive dissonance and psychological conflict that leads to a search for self- and ethnic belonging, imposing cognitive dissonance and incongruence in the course of their ethnic searching, leading to the question, “Who are we?” (Stonequist, 1961). To shed light on this identity crisis and the choices among the four identities outlined previously, the authors studied 351 male and female students, aged 14 to 20, from five Bedouin Arab urban high schools. Most of them lived in villages in homes having up to 27 inhabitants, often with no hot water. The study focused on adolescents because young people are commonly seen as the future of a culture. In this case, these adolescents will inherit any ongoing conflict and be responsible for solutions. In addition, identity formation in adolescence is remarkably significant (Elbedour, Bastien, & Center, 1997; Erickson, 1966; Phinney & Traver, 1988). The results showed that although the label Israeli citizen is a salient feature of their identity, the Bedouin adolescents studied showed a stronger preference for an Arab and Palestinian identity and rated it as a central core of their self-concept. Ratings on the Ethnic Identity Questionnaire (EIQ; Smooha, 1984) showed that with regard to ethnic identification, 45 percent of the teens reported that



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they were either definitely satisfied or satisfied with Israeli citizenship, even though a larger number (nearly three-fourths, or 73%) believed that the term Israeli was not appropriate in describing their identity. A smaller number, 45 percent, believed that the term Palestinian was appropriate in describing their identity, consistent with a large percent (98%) of the teenagers indicating that their thinking and behavior were affected by their Arabic origin either to a great extent (61%) or to some extent (37%). Moreover, when given a list of six ways of characterizing themselves (i.e., Arab, Israeli Arab, Israeli, Palestinian Arab, Israeli ­Palestinian, Palestinian), Palestinian Arab received the highest endorsement (34%), followed by Israeli Arab (30%), Arab (19%), Israeli Palestinian (12%), and Palestinian (4%); only 3 percent characterized themselves as Israeli. Overall, these results show identification with Palestinians but still reflected some Israeli affiliation. Forty-five percent of the teens reported that they were satisfied with being an Israeli citizen, leaving more than half who were not satisfied. Most adolescents did not feel they have equal footing with the Jewish people. Bedouin ethnic identity can be seen as a direct function of state policies, which can be seen to convey the message that the rights associated with being a member of the state of Israel are awarded on the basis of heritage more than citizenship. Bedouin may come to identify more with Palestinians and promote the Palestinian cause partially in response to feeling marginalized and receiving random, rather than sustained and far-reaching, attention. This is evident in the fact that school systems are not as advanced as in Israel and living conditions poor, with only 6 percent of the teens reporting that they live in recognized villages and more than a quarter describing their home as “not good.” Political neglect and lack of services particularly in unrecognized villages can help explain some teens’ inclination in these villages to make a higher endorsement of political autonomy and Palestinian sentiment when compared to teens from the permanent settlements. Almost half of the teens indicated that they felt closer to Arabs in the West Bank and Gaza Strip than they did to Jews in Israel, an affiliation reflected in having common political views, with more than two-thirds (69%) indicating that Israel should recognize the Palestinians as a nation and an equal number favoring establishment of a Palestinian state alongside Israel. Twenty-six percent would consider moving to a Palestinian state if one were established and if one were to have democratic status like Israel. This can be due to marginalization or perceived rejection by policies that appear to serve the Jewish people and exclude other groups; for example, a policy based on security considerations that fundamentally regards all non-Jewish Israelis as a security threat or potential danger to the existence of the state (Lustick, 1980). Another strategy to cope with their socioeconomic and psychological situation is to support Bedouin autonomy. Although the teens were divided over whether there should be separate political parties for Arabs and Jews (one-third believed there should be separate political parties, one-third disagreed, and the remainder were undecided), the majority want Arabs to control their own local governments

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and educational system and favor separate Arab departments or an independent Arab university, a new, independent Arab-language newspaper, radio, or television station, independent Arab trade unions, independent Arab industry, and a new, independent Arab national political party. Paradoxically, the results also appear to show that the teens sampled perceive surprisingly little contradiction between their identification with independence and with Palestinian causes and their ­ connection to Israel as citizens of that country. When asked where they felt most at home, 45 percent revealed that they felt most at home in Israel, compared to 22 percent who felt most at home in an Arab country and 14 percent who felt more at home in the West Bank and Gaza Strip; 19 percent said that it made no difference. Although the teens still appear to feel at home in Israel, the results show that identification with Israelis is secondary, and a stronger identification exists with Palestinian politics and nationalism. Historical and political events experienced by contemporary Bedouin adolescents likely strengthen their identity as a separate group from the Israeli Jewish population and reinforce emotional and symbolic ties to the Palestinians. This can be further explained by their experience of marginalization and discrimination, which poses a threat to their individual sense of self; as a result, the ethnic group identity becomes more pronounced (Breakwell, 1983). Not surprisingly, religion appears to play a significant role in the ethnic identity of this group, reflected in the teens’ ranking of religion as the most important factor in forming their identity. This high-rated importance of religion is consistent with social changes that have transformed the Bedouin’s traditional culture and caused them to revise their collective identity to fit into the culture of politicized Islam, which has enveloped the region. Consistent with this observation, the psychological literature shows that religious identification tends to increase when an individual’s control over his or her circumstances weaken (Korf & Malan, 2002). The teens’ responses also emphasize the ideology of an oppressed minority through their bond to Oriental Jews, compared to a lesser bond to Ashkenazi Jews. This can be explained by the fact that deprived minority groups tend to compare themselves with other disadvantaged groups. Lack of contact with Israeli Jews may also play a role in the teens’ identity. More than 4 out of 10 of the Bedouin Arab adolescents almost never had contact with any Jewish people at all, and half reported ­having no Jewish acquaintances or friends. Thirty-four percent were willing to have a Jewish neighbor, although they would prefer Arab neighbors. Psychological literature shows that interaction, familiarity and friendship, and even working on common projects play a role in closer affiliation and more positive feelings among diverse groups— ­connections that are not currently formed between these Bedouin youngsters and their Israeli peers. Clearly, the Negev Bedouin ethos is particularly susceptible to the sociocultural and political context, as these people strive to find their identity and place in society in the midst of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Although the Israeli part of their self-perception is subordinate to their identification as Palestinians, Bedou-



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ins still view their Israeli identity as a critical feature of their self-description. These self-descriptions, however, can alter in response to evolving sociocultural and political realities. As a result, a follow-up of this sample as well as replication of this study is warranted, given the fact that these data were collected before the current dramatic changes in the Palestinian and Israeli governments and their policies (e.g., the election of Hamas, the Israeli withdrawal from Gaza, the eruption of the second intifada, and the stalling of the peace process). These results raise a fundamental challenge for the Israeli state. If the current policies of discrimination and marginalization are allowed to continue, it will only increase the volatility of the regional conflict and further polarize the Israeli Bedouin who are caught in the middle. In the words of Elie Rekhess of the Moshe Dayan Centre, “A concrete, integrated plan of action, showing observable achievements, will offer a palpable alternative to many Arab citizens who seek their place in the state of Israel without confrontation” (International Crisis Group, 2004, p. 32). Finally, understanding the contemporary Bedouin identity is crucial to making progress in reconciliation between the Israelis and Palestinians. Caught in the middle, the Bedouins can play the role of social critics who have been defined as individuals or groups who use their marginality to mediate between factions in conflict (Stonequist, 1961). Acceptance and support from both cultures can help the Bedouins adopt an unbiased position that does not align with any particular group’s ideology or nationalistic scheme but serves as a bridge between the warring Israeli and Palestinian parties.

References Bailey, C. (2002). The condition of the Bedouin towns in the Negev: Interim report. Jerusalem, Israel: Truman Research Institute for the Advancement of Peace, Hebrew University of Jerusalem. Ben-David, Y. (1995). The land conflict between the Bedouin and the state of Israel: Historical, legal, and actual perspectives, Karka, 40, 61–91 (in Hebrew). Breakwell, G. M. (Ed.). (1983). Threatened identities. New York: Wiley. Dinero, S. (2000). Planning for an ethnic minority: The Bedouin Arabs of Israel. In M. A. Burayidi (Ed.), Urban planning in a multicultural society (pp. 169–191). Westport, CT: Praeger. Elbedour, S., Bastien, D., & Center, B. A. (1997). Identity formation in the shadow of conflict: Projective drawings by Palestinian and Israeli Arab children from the West Bank and Gaza. Journal of Peace Research, 34 (2), 217–231. Erickson, E. H. (1966). The concept of identity in race relations: Notes and queries. In T. Parsons & K. B. Clark (Eds.), The Negro American (pp. 227–253). Boston: Beacon Press. Feagin, J. R. (1978). Racial and ethnic relations. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall. Ghanem, A. (2001). The Palestinian-Arab minority in Israel, 1948–2000: A political study. Albany: State University of New York Press. International Crisis Group. (2004, March 3). Identity crisis: Israel and its Arab citizens. ICG Middle East Report No. 25. Amman, Jordan: Author. Retrieved February 18, 2005,

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from http://www.crisisweb.org//library/documents/middle_east___north_africa/ arab_israeli_conflict/25_­identity_crisis_israel_arab_citz.pdf Korf, L., & Malan, J. (2002). Threat to ethnic identity: The experience of White Afrikaans-speaking participants in postapartheid South Africa. Journal of Social Psychology, 142(2), 149–169. Lustick, I. (1980). Arabs in the Jewish state: Israel’s control of a national minority. Austin: University of Texas Press. Phinney, J.  S. (2000). Ethnic identity. In A. E. Kazdin (Ed.), Encyclopedia of psychology (pp. 254–259). New York: Oxford University Press. Phinney, J. S., & Traver, S. (1988). Ethnic identity search and commitment in Black and White eighth graders. Journal of Early Adolescence, 8, 265–277. Sherif, M., & Sherif, C. W. (1953). Groups in harmony and tension: An integration of studies on intergroup relations. New York: Harper. Smooha, S. (1984). The orientation and politicization of the Arab minority in Israel. Haifa, Israel: University of Haifa, Jewish-Arab Center, Institute of Middle Eastern Studies. Stonequist, E. V. (1961). The marginal man: A study in personality and culture conflict. New York: Russell & Russell.

part iii

Women and Children Caught in the Conflict

This part includes chapters that address the special challenges faced by women and children, two populations that are particularly at risk in the PalestinianIsraeli conflict. A balanced point of view is presented, including efforts in both societies. The authors elucidate the problems and offer unique counseling approaches to help these populations cope.

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Anguish of Israeli Women against the Backdrop of the Intifada Joyce Rosman Brenner

Over the last five years, the (insecure) security situation in Israel has deteriorated dramatically. In response to daily events that demand crisis intervention, more women have been seeking help to cope with stress related to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and care for themselves and their families. The latest group of women who are troubled and seeking help are women soldiers, especially those who were involved with the disengagement from Gaza. Some are angry about how they were treated or had to treat others; others are confused about how to feel. This chapter presents the problems of Israeli women today in light of the intifada, a brief overview of feminist principles and their place within Israeli society, and strategies for implementing these principles to help women deal with the stresses caused by daily life and escalated by the situation of conflict in society today. The Counseling Center for Women (CCW) was established to help meet the needs of women within the very complicated Israeli society. For example, therapists at CCW volunteered to provide psychological services for the young women soldiers who went into the settlements and assisted in escorting families out of the danger zones. These 19- to 20-year-old young women were provided advice and support to help overcome troubling thoughts, handle sadness and anger, and control behavior; in other words, to help them cope with their assignment/orders and prevent post-traumatic stress disorders in the future. We witnessed amazing dignity and empathy in the way these female soldiers carried out their excruciatingly difficult assignment, which had an impact on us as therapists and as human beings and reenergized our feminist mission in Israel to know that we can effect change.

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The feminist message means that we take into consideration issues related specifically to women. That includes their view of themselves as nurturers, supports, and pillars of the family as well as being treated equally to men. The exacerbation of the security situation has forced us to develop responses to intense stress experienced by most of the population. For example, problems have increased for families who live on the so-called seam line (the dividing line between Israel and the territories) and for wives of police officers and army personnel, women who deal with perpetual anxiety about the return of their spouses. We also have had to organize evenings in various neighborhoods to deal with immediate anxieties of terrorist attacks. The main intervention involves providing women with opportunities to talk, express fears, share with others in a group, and regain coping abilities while living with daily stress. We role-play scenarios helpful in dealing with children and resolving disagreements with partners over issues such as whether to go out at night or if the children should hear news of the war. As constant stress remains prevalent in Israeli society, particularly emanating from the conflict with the Palestinians, therapy approaches must expand and find new ways to respond to clientele. Being closely identified to Western society and norms, Israel has embraced the growing strength of women, as evidenced by the powerful positions women have begun to play in the society, traced back to the former Prime Minister Golda Meir. The so-called feminist movement has grown along with the influence of feminists and a more feminist approach to treating problems. Progress still must be made, however, both within Israel and between Israeli and Palestinian women. I write this with some sadness because too few opportunities exist to establish dialogue with Palestinian women; I can only hope that in the future these will expand and become more meaningful. Recent surveys have demonstrated that more than 60 percent of women in Israel participate in the workforce; however, their salaries continue to be less than their male counterparts, even in identical positions. Women make up more than 50 percent of university students working toward first degrees; however, these numbers decline for second and third degrees. Family violence continues to affect nearly 40 percent of the population. Sexual abuse seems to reach the same level as in other Western countries. It is estimated that more than 2,000 rapes occur each year; however, only 10 are reported. Since 2004, a survey at our center shows that the problems of our female clientele indicate that 44 percent suffer from abuse (including physical, sexual, and emotional), 38 percent suffer from depression, 21 percent suffer from anxiety, and 10 percent suffer from eating disorders. The women come from a variety of cultural backgrounds: Ultraorthodox women; Israeli Arab, Palestinian, and Bedouin women; from Ethiopia, the former Soviet Union, South America, Europe, and native Israelis. They have typical problems, but they are exacerbated by the intifada. Leah, a 43-year-old Orthodox mother of six, is having trouble dealing with her recent divorce from her abusive husband. She is also distressed that her daughter has



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been having nightmares since one of her classmates was injured in a bus bombing. Another mother does not know what to answer when her little boy asks, “Why do the Palestinians hate me?” Amy, a 30-year-old married mathematician, who came because she is troubled about incestuous experiences in her childhood, argues with her husband over how much TV news to watch about the violence.

Feminist Therapy and the Israeli Scene Feminist therapy is based upon two principles. First, the personal is political, a message that challenges us to examine the context within which we live and begin to see how the environment impacts and restricts our choices. In Israel, we can invert this message and also say the political is personal because everyday living in this country is continually imbued and impacted by daily events concerning life-and-death matters, such as terrorist incidents, army operations, and people dying or injured. Someone is sure to know someone whose son or daughter or neighbor was involved in today’s terror headlines. The media invades every aspect of personal life. The second principal is the belief that men and women should have equal opportunity to develop their fullest potential, without restrictions according to gender. In spite of myths that women are treated equally—especially because they serve in the army—and in spite of the image of a new and innovative society exemplified by kibbutz-living that encouraged new gender models, women in contemporary Israeli society are not always equal (Swirski & Safir, 1991). For example, because the security situation is so much a part of daily life in Israel, serving in the army is an essential aspect of fulfilling one’s commitment to the state and reinforces the male/macho image. Although the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF) make efforts to find ways to use female soldiers in resourceful tasks, the Army, nonetheless, is clearly a very male-dominated institution. Indeed, women were an integral aspect of the disengagement process from Gaza in August 2005, but their responsibilities are not equated with the men in the male-dominated military that is so much a part of Israel today. Women serve in the military for a period of less than two years, whereas men serve the mandatory three years and then continue in reserve duty (three to six weeks every year) until they are 50 years old. Further, it is very difficult for wives to request that their partners or husbands help them with seemingly mundane tasks revolving around household responsibilities when the men have just returned from intense pressure on the front. “Darling, it’s your turn to change the baby’s diaper” seems an absurd request within the overriding tension that is present in Israel today. The mother of that infant has been on her own, however, endlessly changing diapers. In addition, women suffer anxiety when their spouse does army duty dealing with serious danger. The kibbutz is another example of the myth of gender equality. A dream of Eastern European ghetto youth, founders believed that a socialistic communal

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society would free and empower youth and create utopias that represented equality for all (Swirski & Safir, 1991). Sadly, even at the height of the kibbutz movement, men and women were limited in their choices of jobs and positions; men became plowers and agricultural workers and women took on service tasks of providing food, caring for children, and generally maintaining the house or kibbutz (Silver, 1984). The goal of gender equality may no longer even be relevant as the kibbutzim face enormous economic crises and many are privatizing; the myths of the ideal remain, however, perhaps one way that Israelis try to believe that there is equality between the sexes. These two principles of feminism seem to me at first to be easily achievable, but the more I lived in Israel, I realized how complex life in the Middle East is. Many of us therapists trying to apply these feminist principles had to remind ourselves of the complexities surrounding the aspiration for gender equality within the Israeli scene. Recent violent events that threaten security have further complicated the role of women in Israeli society. Danger of explosions from terrorist incidents makes every family reconsider who should drive the children where or even raises the question of whether there should be outings at all. Is it safer to be with dad because he carries a weapon and can be more protective? These are all daily considerations that influence decisions on the Israeli scene. A further important factor complicating the role of women in modern-day Israel is the fact that Israel is a state influenced and often controlled by the Orthodox religious precepts of Judaism. The concept of separation of church and state is nonexistent and problematic. Patriarchy is a dominant characteristic within Judaism, with serious problems evident in marriage and divorce laws, which permit only a man to grant his wife a get (legal divorce). Many women (more than 5,000 in Israel today) are caught in the agunah status, meaning they are chained women who are refused a divorce by their spouse. These problems are further exacerbated by the use of the term baal, the Hebrew word for husband, which also means “master.” When encountering issues of domestic violence, rape, and incest, many of these patriarchal attitudes emerge, inhibiting the woman’s rights to express herself or control her life (Brenner, 1983). To further understand the issues of male-female equality, it is important to be aware that more than 50 percent of the population comes from North African origins. In these countries, the place of women is severely restricted. In spite of all this, some excellent new laws and legislation protect and ensure the rights of women in Israel today (Israel Women’s Network, 2004). Despite any intentions to change society’s attitudes and stereotypes, the actual process of change is not easily realized. The stresses of women in Israeli society today are also felt by us as feminist therapists. Although we listen and respond with empathy to the varied problems women present to us, we sometimes go home sad and in doubt as to whether the feminist message has a place in this very complicated place that is Israel today. Fortunately, we share collegial support very much needed to emerge with re-



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newed energies so that we can keep trying to make waves and change things. We hope that women reach other caring and empathic therapists in other settings, but we often realize that our particular message is especially relevant to the painful circumstances in which so many women find themselves. We hear these types of supportive remarks all the time from our clients.

The Counseling Center for Women The so-called herstory of our therapy center goes back to our socialist Zionist grandmothers at the beginning of the twentieth century who actively sought an equal place in building a just society in Israel. In the 1970s and 1980s, feminism began to emerge all over the world, and the winds of change were blowing in Israel. Feminist therapy found its voice and mission through the meetings and actions of our original founding members. More than 17 years ago, I joined with a group of 10 mental health professionals who recognized the need to establish a center in Israel that would reflect feminism and egalitarianism (Brenner, 2002). Today, this Counseling Center for Women (CCW) is a thriving enterprise, with more than 25 therapists offering services on a sliding scale in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv. We have grown beyond our wildest dreams and expectations. Looking back on those early meetings I can recall only the energy and excitement that permeated our conversations as we engaged with every imaginable issue relating to the oppression of women. We met regularly once every two weeks, studying feminist therapy literature and exploring the impact of controversial feminist topics on our personal and professional lives. This was not always so easy, as we were all busy with professional obligations, family and personal responsibilities, and were not geographically close. When I arrived in Israel from the United States at the beginning of the 1980s, I was completing my dissertation for my doctoral degree in social work on the Attitudes and Values of Israeli Social Workers towards Sex Role Issues. Little did I realize at that time how naive I was about gender conflicts in what I thought was a modern, Western state, albeit one located in the volatile Middle East. Nonetheless, I continued to be actively involved with the feminist movement in Israel and have continually struggled, often daily and hopefully in a creative fashion, to incorporate feminist therapy into all aspects of my work.

Programs to Help Women Feminist programs developed and ongoing at CCW include assertiveness training, anger management groups, interventions that put emphasis on women’s strengths and enable women to build networks so that they no longer feel alone with their problems, couples groups that deal with issues of stereotypes regarding males and females, and other interventions that emphasize the feminist approach while respecting the context of the society within which we live.

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We do a great deal of outreach to populations in need of assistance with the stressful situation. Not only do we organize the specially defined groups mentioned earlier, we also offer lectures and drop-in evenings for those in need. We also have arranged groups for ventilation (expression of feelings) for ourselves, the staff and therapists at CCW. We are aware that without the support of each other, we, too, cannot maintain our expected level of effectiveness. The therapeutic staff has become expert in incorporating many new techniques into their therapy repertoire to deal with people’s trauma, including eye movement desensitization reprocessing (EMDR), trauma incident reduction (TIR), and others. Although we deal with life cycle events, relationship issues, and parenting themes, we are persistently aware of the need to deal with trauma and violence caused by the intifada. Women come to the center alone or with their partner and children. They represent every type of Israeli, emphasizing how important a role culture plays in problem resolution. People respond very differently to the pervasive and constant worries about the security situation, which is especially evident in our groups. For example, oldtimers in Israel, accustomed to stress and the uncertainty of the security situation, remind groups of the hardships at the beginning during the establishment of the state of Israel and ask, “Has anything ever changed?” Their vision of the current turmoil as an inherent characteristic of the Israeli scene and their experiences over the years helped them develop an ability to withstand difficulty, which helped other members of the group learn resilience and even a stoic perspective. Holocaust survivors, who also have intense experience with traumas, are prepared to flee at any moment (many have cash available to travel at a moment’s notice). Holocaust-survivor mentality powerfully influences the mood in Israel, which was perhaps why there was such a negative response to the settlers who tried to piggyback on the holocaust imagery during the recent disengagement from Gaza. The new settlers—those arriving with commitment to political and religious ideology and motivated to rescue the land and Zionism—are ready to confront hardship but often stay rigidly committed to their ideology, requiring us to help them be open to other points of view so that they do not endanger their children, for example, by resisting disengagement. Some enthusiastic Zionists who arrived in the 1970s wonder what happened to the Israel that they dreamed about. Many of these middle-aged citizens have lost their center, their ideological reasons for living in Israel in light of such violent and tumultuous times. They must clarify messages about their life and country that they are passing on to their children and grandchildren. Parents are constantly worried about their whereabouts of their teens and young children because of terrorist attacks. Every move and every outing is queried and discussed. They have a desire to maintain normal living but fear letting down their guard.



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Anyone with a loved one who is a soldier in the army—which includes huge numbers of the population because of the obligation of reserve duty—is in constant stress over his or her safety. The worry and concern about the well-being of one’s child during army service never goes away. The ubiquitous cell phone is the crucial item that helps people keep in touch. In this time of the intifada, three tasks are required to survive in Israel, which likely apply to any violent place in the world. The three tasks emerge from the literature on chronic illness but are adaptable to the current Israeli situation. They are acceptance, confrontation, and denial. Acceptance means incorporating into the essence of our very being the fact that terrorism is likely to continue and a chronic state of stress may always be characteristic of our lives. We must absorb this very difficult piece of information without losing our sense of joy and direction. To do so will give us the capability of surviving within this appalling and incessantly stressful situation. Confrontation includes active responses to the horrific situation with which we are living that give us some hope and the possibility of change. These responses contribute to the feeling of control over life that enables people to face a difficult situation head-on. As therapists and as significant others, we must have courage to ask people how they are coping with the violence. This may seem apparent but, nonetheless, must be emphasized. Therapists must be active rather than wait for a client to initiate a subject, as is the case in some therapy traditions, to help the client specifically focus on the recent catastrophes, even for a few moments. Silence is not helpful. Even those clients who prefer to avoid discussing news events find that being encouraged to talk openly about them enables them to sort out current actions and arrange issues with new priorities and from different perspectives. Asking about difficult issues gives people permission to speak about any and all forbidden subjects, from sexuality to incest and violence in a safe place. Doing an emotional barometer check with regard to stress levels is helpful. Denial is a coping mechanism that has been commonly used by Israelis to deal with the stress caused by terrorism in daily life. Denial of feelings can also be harmful, however, because such repression can lead to physical or emotional problems. A balance between expressing and repressing must be maintained. People try to build a bubble to protect their families and themselves, but it must be a bubble that is not impenetrable. We must continue to tune into our senses and feel the sadness and reactions to horrific incidents and continue to cry and protest, but all within the framework that is right for each individual. That means letting in news and information but only in measures that each individual can manage. Too much TV, radio, newspaper reading, or argumentative discussion can be harmful. Denial is aimed at regulating stress that is omnipresent. Activities that help achieve this balance include going to the movies, theaters, and concerts (in other words, finding ways to relax and allow pleasure and humor in life) and going on vacations (in Israel there is a trend for taking

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minivacations to nearby places that are out of the country but affordable and not too far, such as Cypress, Turkey, Crete, Prague, and Budapest). These trips offer a brief respite from the intensity of the security situation, breathers that then enable people to go on dealing with pressure when they return. Good coping techniques include exercise that enhances one’s health and physical well-being; relaxing with friends and family, which provides good feelings; and walking on the beach or otherwise enjoying nature and the outdoors. All of these so-called denial activities may give a false sense of being in control but, nevertheless, are necessary to tolerate the challenges of daily living in a persistently traumatic setting. It is important to note that different reactions emerge as a result of stress. One person feels fine, another falls apart, both having experienced the same event. Someone jokes, whereas someone else cries. Some people always feel better in talk therapy by ventilating and sharing, but others need to find their own rhythm for absorbing difficult life events by sharing privately or even keeping feelings inside. Respect for personality variations and styles of response is essential (Milgram, 1986). All our programs and interventions are repeatedly evaluated and updated according to the needs of the situation.

Conclusions Finally then, as I write this chapter within the turmoil of recent events in the world as well as in Israel, I realize that the stresses of present life created by the Palestinian-Israeli conflict will likely only continue. Feminist therapy is well suited to offer ways to cope with such stress. All of us in society and the therapeutic community must find ways to fight violence and hate. In Israel, I do not like living with fear, wondering if I go out to a café whether I will return safely, inspections at every entrance to shopping malls and restaurants, youngsters not having freedom of movement, or the fact that cell phones are everywhere, even if they do relieve anxiety by allowing people to keep in touch. Nor do I like to imagine my Palestinian neighbors living under their awful circumstances. I often think that the perspective of women can contribute to a breakthrough in the persistently stalled peace process because, until now, mostly men have tried and, sadly, have not succeeded. These perspectives would include equality and good listening skills. We must continue, as feminists, as Jews, and as sensitive human beings, to make this world a better place. For me, the solution is one that legitimizes coexistence between two peoples in one land. I try not to lose hope for a future that is better than today and the belief in the possibility of change. Perhaps we can all hope together.

References Brenner, J. (1983). Israeli social workers and sex roles: A study on values and attitudes toward sex roles and their impact upon practices. Doctoral dissertation.



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Brenner, J. R., Savran, B., & Singer, I. (Eds.). (2002). Women in the therapy space: Writings from CCW, the Counseling Center for Women. Jerusalem, Israel: Ramat Gan. Israel Women’s Network (Women’s Lobby). (2004). Annual Report 2004. Retrieved from www.iwn.org.il Milgram, N. A. (Ed.). (1986). Stress and coping in time of war: Generalizations from the Israeli experience. New York: Brunner/Mazel. Silver, V. (1984). Male and female: Created he them. [In Hebrew]. Tel Aviv: Yad Tavnekin. Swirski, B, & Safir, M. P. (Eds.). (1991). Calling the equality bluff: Women in Israel. New York: Pergamon Press.

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The Effect of Conflict and Militarization on Palestinian Women Amal Abusrour

Rapid political and social changes in Palestinian society over the last fifty years have caused considerable stress as well as mental and psychological problems for men, women, children, and families. Upheavals caused by these changes have been exacerbated by increased violence in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and militarization in the Occupied Palestinian Territories, leading to what Gaza psychiatrists Eyad El-Sarraj and Samir Qouta refer to as both direct and indirect trauma (including the traditional definition of the concept of trauma and in the Palestinian situation referring to the organized violence during the first and present Intifada).1 This, is turn, has led to an increase in violence and human rights violations against Palestinians in general and against women in particular. The impact on women’s lives have included physical and indirect harassment, financial hardship, unemployment, maternal health impairment, role demands, multilevel stress, and even killings.2 This chapter explores the psychosocial effects of the second Intifada on Palestinian women, focusing on the impact of the traditional patriarchal system and the contemporary political conflict on women’s situation and their psychosocial coping mechanisms.

Extent of the Problem The degree of women’s suffering is difficult to measure in accurate numbers and figures, making monitoring and documentation difficult,3 largely due to women’s fear of reporting such incidences. A survey on domestic violence by the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics in February 2006, however, shows that 23.3 percent of women surveyed stated that they were exposed to physical vio-

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lence at least one time during 2005, 61 percent were exposed to psychological violence, and 10.5 percent to sexual violence. Women who were not in the labor force (housewives) were more likely to be exposed to physical violence compared to women in the labor force (23% compared to 16.8%, respectively).4 In addition, a poll of 1,100 women, conducted by the Women’s Organization of Legal Aid, found an 86.6 percent increase in the number of women subject to domestic violence from 2001 to 2002, a period that coincides with a violent period of the Intifada.5

Roles and Division of Labor between Men and Women during Political Instability In Palestinian culture, based on a patriarchal, male-dominated system, the conditions of the occupation have unsettled traditional gender roles. Men are traditionally considered the protector and breadwinner of the family; under the conditions of the current occupation with restrictions on mobility and opportunity imposed by military rule, however, many men are no longer able to provide for their families. Some men are forced to accept help from foreign development agencies and international humanitarian aid agencies, further undermining their traditional role as provider for the family. To cope with the stress of these unacceptable conditions, some men resort to violence toward their female relatives. The relationship between violence against women and the occupation can be explained as follows: Palestinian men have become frustrated and feel humiliated either by Israeli soldiers or by financial hardship and unemployment caused by the occupation, with the result that they are unable to provide adequately for their family. Wives have had to become the primary breadwinner for the family, a fact that adds to the insult to the man’s masculinity and his need to prove his manhood by asserting his traditional dominant role, demanding respect and obedience, and exerting authority through any means, including violence against female relatives. Men’s use of violence “becomes a coping mechanism that addresses their own inabilities to perform their traditional roles as providers for their families, their loss of dignity and ‘manhood’, and finally, their loss of control and authority over their women.”6 In the Palestinian male-dominated society, the woman is considered the property of her husband. A woman can be beaten by her husband, father, brother, or any male relative for any reason, including being accused of not fulfilling her traditional roles, such as cooking, cleaning, or tending to their appearance to a husband’s satisfaction. Facing multiplied stresses, women can find these roles more difficult to perform to perfection. As punishment, the woman can be subject to many abuses, ranging from insults to physical, emotional, or sexual abuse, marital rape, or even what’s called honor killing. The latter means that if the woman is perceived as having insulted the honor of the man—considered sacrosanct in Palestinian society—he or some other man feels justified to punish her by death. Cases of domestic violence and honor killings have increased since 2002,7 which has been ascribed not only to continuing adherence to tribal law but also



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to the increasingly difficult socioeconomic conditions, gender relations, and family relationships caused by the ongoing intifada, militarization, and occupation from Israeli military forces.8 Given that abusive and deadly acts are considered a so-called normal reflection of men’s frustration, and therefore explained and excused, few men are prosecuted for these acts. Furthermore, women have little recourse. Because of taboos against revealing family secrets, expected social roles to conform to society’s expectations, and fear of being blamed, most women do not take advantage of services of counseling centers or women’s centers. Additionally, abused women are advised by senior relatives to understand their husband’s frustration caused by the current unstable political, social, and economic situation and to consider national interests—fighting the occupation—rather than resisting social rules. In Palestinian society, men and women react differently to trauma and violence. As men feel their power is diminished outside the home, they tend to demonstrate it by exerting power over female family members, whether wives, daughters, or sisters. Women, however, react to oppression by expressing their loyalty to the family and the national cause, which is the building block of a Palestinian state.9

Palestinian Women’s Health during the Second Intifada The Women’s Centre for Legal Aid and Counselling reported that the number of cases of giving birth at home increased from 5.2 percent in 2000 to more than 30 percent in 2003. This increase can be seen to be related to increased measures taken by Israeli military rules, closure of cities and villages, restrictions in mobility, checkpoints, and curfews. Between 2002 and 2004, more than 61 women gave birth at the checkpoints, leading to widespread anxiety among women that they would not be able to reach the hospital or a midwife in time to deliver. Pregnant women no longer look forward to the moment of giving birth because of fears that something might go wrong. In its report on Israel and the Occupied Territories, Amnesty International shows that “The level of their anxiety increases as the end of their pregnancy approaches.” What is worse, women fear that they might suffer minor complications that might not be an issue under normal circumstances or, worse yet, that they might lose their child or their life in delivery.10 Pregnant women who live in areas under night shelling, closure, or curfew report high levels of such anxieties. Increased poverty during the time of the intifada has led to their neglecting their own health by focusing exclusively on the well-being of their family and children. Because closures and mobility restrictions prevent Palestinians in general, and women in particular, from access to health care services, which are usually located in the cities,11 there is an increase in emergency cases; yet neither the woman nor her family can afford ambulance fees, which cost in some cases more than $150.12

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Conflict and Psychological Stress A recent study by the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics (PCBS) on the quality of health of the population living in the Occupied Palestinian Territories indicates that 11.7 percent report being very dissatisfied or discontent with themselves; 23.9 percent suffer sometimes or very often from negative feelings such as depressive moods, despair, or anxiety; 45.5 percent fear losing their home; 46.1 percent fear losing their land; and 68 percent worry about their future.13 About 25 percent of respondents have reported suffering considerable or extreme psychological pressures. Due to the current situation, women in particular experience psychological stress. A survey by the Palestinian Bureau of Statistics in 2001 showed that more than half of the women surveyed reported crying attacks, 46 percent reported feelings of hopelessness, and 29 percent said they felt anger and suffered nervous breakdowns.14 Much stress is caused by the increased demands of their multiple roles as caregiver as well as provider. Increasingly, taking on the role of primary provider for their household means providing for the welfare of their husband as well as their children. Palestinian women are put in a double bind; on one hand, they must adapt to new demands to survive in the midst of changing political and economic situations; to provide food; to care for their family under harsh conditions of curfew, closure, and shelling15; and to juggle multiple roles performing domestic work as well as working outside the home. On the other hand, they must confront constraints imposed by the patriarchal system, which requires women to be under the control of males. A woman whose husband has died or is imprisoned must face the burdens of providing for the home alone.16 These women face the challenges of caregiver, breadwinner, and protector of the children as well as combating the social burden of negative social attitudes toward single mothers. While confronting social and traditional constraints, they must simultaneously cope with emotional and psychological problems.

Conflict and Sociocultural Dynamics During conflict and increased violence and militarization, Palestinian women are forced to follow sociocultural mores and concepts, some of which may deny their womanhood and motherhood feelings.17 For example, the concept of martyrdom in Palestinian culture requires mothers and wives to consider the death of their children or husbands in a particular way. Palestinian women whose child or husband has been killed must suppress their feelings during mourning or celebrate the honor of being the mother or wife of a martyr. These traditions do not give women the opportunity to express feelings of grief and loss publicly. Seeking to be accepted in society, mothers and widows usually keep their grief private while publicly expressing acceptance and appreciation of the honor that has been bestowed on them.



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Such mothers who experience the trauma of losing their children are also being accused of being bad mothers18 by members of the international community who disapprove of martyrdom, thus adding a double pain. These mothers must suppress their humanity and love for their children and face the accusation of international media, which claims that they push or persuade their children to confront the Israeli military’s rules. These women must keep their suffering silent to fit within the context of traditional Palestinian culture. Single Palestinian mothers face difficulties finding the balance between social demands and their psychological needs. A traumatized woman cannot easily admit that she misses her imprisoned husband whom she had not seen for months or years because society expects her to be strong and courageous. Further, a single Palestinian mother cannot go out whenever she wants or come back home late at night because of the resulting gossip of neighbors and relatives. For example, she cannot call for a taxi at a late hour to take her child to a doctor, nor can she accompany a stranger. This means that she cannot ask help from her neighbors, with the result that she has to handle problems on her own.19

Women and the Socioeconomic Situation Palestinian women have suffered from increased poverty during the years coincident with the occupation and the intifada. As a result of the increase in the rate of poverty, decline in income, and loss of property, more than 2.2 million people (in the Palestinian territories) live on less than $2 a day. The poverty rate of households in which the woman is the main breadwinner is 1.3 times higher that that of households in which the man is the head of the family. Women heads of the family increased from 7 percent in 1997 to 11 percent in 2003, yet in many cases women are not qualified or prepared to assume these responsibilities; thus their employment opportunities are rare and salaries are extremely low.20 The impact of economic and social deterioration of the society on Palestinian women is multiplied by many factors and manifest in many situations. For example, women fear harassment while walking long distances to reach employment.21 To avoid and prevent such incidents, many Palestinian women have turned to some kind of home-based business to combat their vulnerability, prevent poverty, maintain their safety, and protect their privacy and, therefore, their reputation.22 Economic deterioration and social situations have led to another problem: a considerable increase in early marriage, a situation women’s organizations have been trying to stop. Studies show that more than 49.4 percent of girls marry before the age of 18 years, and 47 percent of women marry their first or second cousin. Early marriage contributes to 46 percent of the dropout rate of female students.23 Unmarried girls, on the other hand, are exposed to domestic violence due to social and economic constraints suffered by families. The PCBS survey in 2006 shows that 24.6 percent of unmarried women aged 18 years and older are exposed to physical violence and 53.5 percent to psychological violence.24

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This increasingly traumatizing set of circumstances makes it difficult for Palestinian women to find a safe and secure place within current society. Restrictions against expressing or sharing their pain exacerbate their suffering, leading them to seek refuge—which is not available—from family oppression, social pressure, militarization, and conflict. Marginalization increases their burden. Is sum, Palestinian women have much burden to cope with their economic and social constraints and hesitate to take advantage of any resources—limited as they are in the society—for help. In addition, as a result of the occupation and socioeconomic difficulties, many families have been forced to live in their extended family homes, a factor that has been connected to the increase in violence by increasing pressure on the couple. In support of this, a study by the Women’s Empowerment Project in Gaza shows that “60 percent of participants were subjected to physical or verbal violence in the home but that abuse ceased for a majority of the women once they moved out of their husband’s extended family home into a home with only their husband and children.”25

Discussion and Recommendations Under condition of the current intifada, and exacerbated by the Palestinian patriarchal system, women suffer on many levels. Although they find it hard to talk openly about their suffering and feelings, they also need to keep family matters private, because to speak out can lead to increased physical and/or psychological violence from male family members as well as ostracism by the community. Several women’s organizations and counseling centers do exist in urban areas, but women in these areas are too afraid to take advantage of their help, and women in rural areas find services inaccessible. Difficulty reaching these centers is increased by restrictions imposed by Israeli military measures. Cultural restrictions that force women to keep family matters private must be lifted for women to be able to deal effectively with their new roles, pressures, and responsibilities and to relieve their social and psychological pressures. Increasing domestic violence and conditions of violence in the society are likely related. Dealing adequately with this problem entails not only ending the occupation but also creating a viable economy in Palestinian society that would mitigate against frustrations of Palestinian men and pressures on the family and solve problems stemming from poverty and illiteracy that are at the root of disturbing social trends that lead to violation, disenfranchisement, and scapegoating of women. Many issues raised by violence against women during these times of conflict must be addressed from both legal and societal perspectives. The concepts of honor and women as property that are so deeply entrenched in the social, political, and economic fabric of society, and can lead to women’s deaths, must be reexamined. Public awareness campaigns and civic education should bring these issues to public awareness. Workshops should be organized, with participation of men as



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well as women, at the village and city levels. Women should be educated about their rights and use of services to protect their emotional and physical safety from within the society when so much violence is happening on the external levels.

References   1.  El Sarraj, E., & Qouta, S. (2005). The Palestinian experience (Chapter 16, pp. 229– 237). Disaster and Mental Health World Psychiatric Association, John Wiley & Sons Ltd.   2.  Hanoun, R., & Mahmoud, S. (n.d.). Palestinian women at risk: How are they coping? Retrieved from http://www.najah.edu/english/articles/1.htm   3.  Women’s Centre for Legal Aid and Counselling & The Women Studies Center. (2001). A report on the situation of women’s human rights during Al-Aqsa intifada to UN Human Rights Commission. Retrieved from http://www.wclac.org/reports/ un.pdf   4.  Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics. (2006, February). Domestic violence. Retrieved from http://www.womenwarpeace.org/opt/docs/Domestic_PCBS_OpT. pdf   5.  Women’s Centre for Legal Aid and Counselling. (2005, April). Palestinian women’s health during the second Intifada: Some facts and figures. Retrieved from http:// www.wclac.org/reports/health.html   6.  Women’s Centre for Legal Aid and Counselling & The Women Studies Center. (2001). A report on the situation of women’s human rights during Al-Aqsa Intifada to UN Human Rights Commission. Retrieved from http://www.wclac.org/reports/ un.pdf   7.  Women’s Centre for Legal Aid and Counselling. (n.d.). Fact sheet. Retrieved from http://www.wclac.org   8.  Amnesty International. (2005, March 31). Israel and the Occupied Territories: Conflict, occupation and patriarchy: Women carry the burden (AI Index: MDE 15/016/2005). Retrieved from http://web.amnesty.org/library/index/engmde 150162005   9.  Women’s Centre for Legal Aid and Counselling. (2005, April). Palestinian women’s health during the second Intifada: Some facts and figures. Retrieved from http:// www.wclac.org/reports/health.html 10.  Amnesty International. (2005, March 31). Israel and the Occupied Territories: Conflict, occupation and patriarchy: Women carry the burden (AI Index: MDE 15/016/2005). Retrieved from http://web.amnesty.org/library/index/engmde 150162005 11.  Women’s Centre for Legal Aid and Counselling. (2005, April). Palestinian women’s health during the second Intifada: Some facts and figures. Retrieved from http:// www.wclac.org/reports/health.html 12.  Amnesty International. (2005, March 31). Israel and the Occupied Territories: Conflict, occupation and patriarchy: Women carry the burden (AI Index: MDE 15/016/2005). Retrieved date, from http://web.amnesty.org/library/index/engmde 150162005 13.  Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics. (2005, December). Quality of life survey. Retrieved from http://www.womenwarpeace.org/opt/docs/pcbs_wallstudy_april2004. pdf

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14.  http://www.pcbs.org 15.  Women’s Centre for Legal Aid and Counselling & The Women Studies Center. (2001). A report on the situation of women’s human rights during Al-Aqsa intifada to UN Human Rights Commission. 16.  Women’s Centre for Legal Aid and Counselling. (2005, April). Palestinian women’s health during the second Intifada: Some facts and figures. Retrieved, from http://www.wclac.org/reports/health.html 17.  Women’s Centre for Legal Aid and Counselling & The Women Studies Center. (2001). A report on the situation of women’s human rights during Al-Aqsa intifada to UN Human Rights Commission. 18.  Shamas, M. A.-D. (n.d.). Women in situations of organized violence: A case of double jeopardy: The Palestinians. Women’s Centre for Legal Aid and Counselling. Retrieved from http://www.wclac.org/reports/reports.html 19.  Hanoun, R., & Mahmoud, S. (n.d.). Palestinian women at risk: How are they coping? Retrieved from http://www.najah.edu/english/articles/1.htm 20.  United Nations. (2005, March 8). International Women’s Day 2005: UN agencies call for action in improving the situation of Palestinian women. UNICEF. Retrieved from http://www.unicef.org/oPt/media_1422.html 21.  Hdeib, S. (n.d.). Speech on South Africa Human Rights Day. Jerusalem Center for Women. Retrieved from http://www.j-c-w.org/SalwaHdeib.htm 22.  Women trade unionists in Palestine: A daily struggle. (2005, January). Trade Union World, 7. Retrieved from http://www.icftu.org/www/PDF/DossierPALESTINEEN. pdf 23.  Women’s Centre for Legal Aid and Counselling. (2005, April). Palestinian women’s health during the second Intifada: Some facts and figures. Retrieved from http:// www.wclac.org/reports/health.html 24.  Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics. (2006, February). Domestic violence survey. Ramallah. Retrieved from http://www.womenwarpeace.org/opt/docs/Domestic_ PCBS_OpT.pdf 25.  Amnesty International. (2005, March 31). Israel and the Occupied Territories: Conflict, occupation and patriarchy: Women carry the burden (AI Index: MDE 15/016/2005). Retrieved from http://www.amnesty.org/library/ENGMDE 150162005

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The Emotional Impact of the Intifada on Palestinian Youth: Implications for Finding the Path to Peace Jeff Victoroff

“Can you do me a favor?” asked the little girl in Arabic. Her almond eyes fluttered. She smiled shyly and looked down at her hands as they twisted in the waist of her embroidered white dress. We were finishing a dinner—the six-year-old girl, her two psychologist parents, and myself—on a warm spring evening in 2003. The setting was al Deira, a seaside hotel in the Palestinian Autonomous Territory of Gaza. The United States military was inducing shock and awe on Baghdad. The second intifada was on pause, a momentary hiatus in hostilities as all participants collectively held their breath to await the outcome of the Mother of all Battles. “I’ll try,” I answered optimistically. “Will you . . .” there was a break in her father’s translation. The parents spoke to one another in Arabic, evidently with some concern. A decision was made and the father continued translating his little girl’s polite request “. . . Please kill Sharon for me?” I had come to Gaza during that historic week to consolidate plans for a scientific collaboration with the research staff of the legendary Gaza Community Mental Health Programme (GCMHP). This program exists, contrary to all probability and by the grace of both international support and local heroism, like an oasis in a fiery desert or an island in a furious sea or perhaps like a beacon fire of hope, a modern light at the end of a tunnel of ancient enmity. With a staff of 175, a central office on a rutted dirt road, and two outposts in the most desperately needy refugee enclaves, the GCMHP exists to provide the sole and entire mental health relief to the population variously estimated at 1.3 million to 1.4 million souls who live walled off from the world in the grim compound called the Gaza Strip.

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“I. . . . well, may I ask why do you want me to kill Sharon?” “Because he drinks the blood of Palestinian children,” she replied, blinking at me, wondering how I, an adult, should need such an education. Her face, soft with childhood, beautiful in the flickering candlelight, reflected her innocent effort to teach me the self-evident. “Oh, that sounds terrible! How did you find out that he does that?” “I saw him!” The little girl looked up toward the ceiling as she recollected, then continued. Her mother and father had adopted unforgettable yet indescribable expressions, fearful at what their baby girl might say, professional in their respect for a child’s ideas, proud of her independent mind. Her father, Dr. Professor Samir Qouta, PhD, director of research at the GCMHP, remained the translator. His English was very good. My Arabic was execrable. “You did?” I could not disguise my doubt. “Everyone saw him!” she was emphatic. “He grabs us and drinks our blood. Why can’t he drink the blood of Israeli children? There are so many and they live closer to him.” Samir and his wife spoke with the girl for a minute, trying to get clear on this. They then explained that their daughter had seen a cartoon showing Sharon greedily slurping down a goblet of dark fluid labeled “Blood of Palestinian Children.” My reactions were mixed. Of course, prior to my visit and essentially from the afternoon of September 11, 2001, until this moment, I had been reading voraciously about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, about Islam, about the history of the Crusades, about the debated missed opportunity of Islamic participation in the Renaissance, about the shifting alliances and perverted identities of the colonial era, about the Balfour Declaration and its surgery-sans-anesthesia actualization, about the wars of 1946 and thereafter, and about the rise of terrorism as diplomacy by other means, from the Irgun to the Al-Aqsa Martyrs’ Brigade. I had watched videos of weapons training at militant-run summer camps in Gaza and the much more affecting graduation ceremonies at Hamsrun kindergartens, as five-year-olds dipped their hands in the ketchup that stood in for blood on the mannequin that stood in for the body of a fallen Jew. I was aware of the psychological warfare, in so far as the open source literature permits, applied by both sides in their below-the-belt fight for above-the-belt hearts and minds. So one of my reactions was a sad shrug; this little girl was the victim of propaganda, not to say incitement, by people whose agenda was to paint a moral distinction between us and them in razor-sharp Manichaean black and white. Such dehumanizing of the other is simply part of war. It helps us make sense of the violence by others. It justifies our own. But I had never had a six-year-old turn to me, trusting me, endowing me with near magical powers over life and death and innocently, earnestly requesting that I become a political assassin. She was telling me that she was afraid of this man, Ariel Sharon, prime minister of Israel at that time. She was hopeful that her ter-



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ror could be managed away by a simple exigency. There was no fury in her tone. She just wanted to be saved from a fate worse than death. She wanted a safe adult—a friend of her parents, a man who had magically turned his hand into a talking kitten to play with her at the table, a fellow who possessed the astonishing ability to move across the Erez crossing point without being shot dead—to save her. It was a moment I will never forget. I had come to Gaza to learn. I had thought, even as I watched those massive twin buildings in New York explode in fire and collapse into rubble, that the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is the red hot nuclear core of the engine of rage driving the great machine of Islamist terrorism. I thought, as fools rush in, that I might somehow come to understand the workings of that engine, the deep emotional and cognitive roots that are pressed beneath the weight of consciousness like organic matter under the weight of a millennium of unresolved conflict to become the fuel for that rage. I quickly discovered how very much more I had to learn. This six-year-old was one of my first teachers. Many call the Israeli-Palestinian standoff intractable, but I think that is defeatist. Terribly challenging seems more accurate as well as urgently in need of our rising to the challenge. For me, trying to understand this conflict had become a mission. I had been writing a book on the biology of aggression when 9/11 changed my plans. The molecular biology of violence no longer seemed to be the right level of analysis. I went back to the basics, from Thucydides’s idea of hegemonic competition as the wellspring of war to the Koran’s complex mix of generosity and militancy to Hobbes’s pessimistic old world order to the social psychology of conformity and prejudice to the last century of contrasting visions, from the near utopia dreamed by some of Israel’s founders to the real dystopia of the authoritarian control now exercised over virtually every aspect of Palestinian life. How had this happened? How could it go on? What might break the vicious cycle of action and reaction, venge and revenge? I had decided to study, as best I could, the way thoughts and emotions mingled to make, for example, the plan of killing innocent civilians seem like a legitimate exercise of political expression. That is, it would seem that the deeper our appreciation of the complex social psychology of this ethnoreligious conflict, the greater the likelihood that we will invest in useful interventions. Yes, we need to be humble about our prospects. Understanding is tough enough. Applying that understanding in the interests of peace is tougher. But one cannot sit idle as the psychic gap between the Muslim and non-Muslim world grows into an unbridgeable chasm. And yes, we cannot assume that people who have great power to determine the actions of nations will listen to people who are trying to gain the psychologically informed knowledge requisite to designing policies or best practices most likely to reduce or resolve this terrible conflict. We might very well make a discovery, see the light, proffer a better road map, and have it discarded as politically inexpedient by the power brokers of the governments that claim to be acting for the security of their citizens. But that has forever been a temporary

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barrier. Scientists are often Cassandras, Apollo’s grantees, empowered to glimpse a bit of future but not to act to stave off catastrophe. Social scientists are perhaps even less to be believed. We have a spotty reputation for perceiving what is what, as opposed to projecting our own fantasies onto the wondrous tableau of human nature. What is more, social science is in the midst of an ongoing civil war, with camps and sycophantic camp followers devoted to one or another banner of disciplinary truth while defensive wariness greets the rare, bold interdisciplinary conceptualization. These difficulties are inescapable but hardly fatal. The job is to wholeheartedly invest in knowledge, offer our best-supported conclusions, and give our wisest estimates of how we might improve the chances of peace. So what do we know, and what should we do?

What Do We Know? Political conflict arguably represents the greatest single threat to the peace and security of the peoples of the world (Manwaring & Olson, 1996). Muslim rage arguably represents the most dangerous thread in the tangled web of global conflicts (Huntington, 1996), and the Israeli-Palestinian conflict arguably represents the white-hot nuclear core of Muslim rage at the perceived profane arrogance of the West. This conflict is rooted not only in Israel’s 1948 war for independence and its follow-on battles for survival of 1956, 1967, and 1973, but in the long war between Muslims and non-Muslims for control of the Holy Land. That long war commenced when European Christians were whipped into a frenzy of crusader zeal by Pope Urban, who crossed the Alps in 1095 to entreat the French knights to rescue Jerusalem from the clutches of Islam (Roberts, 2003). A thousand years later—as we commence the 10th century of this war—Gaza is a seaside prison. Literally walled off from the larger Middle East, Gaza’s residents live in a weird 10- to 15-kilometer-wide limbo, suspended between autonomy and captivity by the forces of history, the stalled peace process, and the deadly umbra of the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF). Eighty thousand Palestinians lived in Gaza before 1948, when the war drove in 200,000 refugees. The current population is estimated to be about 1.4 million; more than 75 percent are refugees, and, in this very youthful place, about 50 percent are younger than age 16. The eyes of the West flickered briefly in their direction when Israel withdrew its settlers in 2005, and again in alarm when Hamas won the historic parliamentary elections of 2006, then flicked back to issues that seemed more imminently threatening to international security: al Qaeda, Iraq, and Iran. Yet the pressure cooker of Gaza continues to stew it occupants in a toxic brew of despair, bittersweet moments of hope, and the heavy salt of humiliation. Both Palestinian and Western mental health experts have long recognized that this dangerous and volatile environment is hardly conducive to healthy human development. Anxiety among young adults was high during the first intifada, or civil



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uprising, of 1987 to 1992 (Qouta & El Sarraj, 1993). The Oslo Accords of 1993 ushered in a seven-year period of fragile hope, with some evidence of reduced anxiety (Qouta, Punamaki, & El-Sarraj, 1995; Thabet & Vostanis, 2000). Even during that period of relative calm, however, school-age children were shown to have a high prevalence of attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder and post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and teachers reported that more than 43 percent of children had behavioral distress worthy of clinical referral (Miller, el-Masri, Allodi, & Qouta, 1999; Thabet & Vostanis, 1998). The Oslo hopes were largely dashed in mid-2000 when the second intifada began. Within nine months, 560 Palestinians had been killed, including 141 children. Multiple studies have shown the impact on Palestinian youth; by the end of 2000, children in Gaza reported an average of four traumatic events, such as the 71 percent who had witnessed bombardment by airplanes or helicopters (Thabet, Abed, & Vostanis, 2004). The prevalence of moderate to severe PTSD during the second intifada has been reported up 87.5 percent among children and teens, with especially high rates among those who have witnessed bombardments or home demolitions (Qouta et al., 2003; Thabet et al., 2002). Although the psychological distress of Palestinian youth is well documented— even predictable—many questions remain unanswered. What is the relationship between psychological state and sympathy for terrorism? How, exactly, does immersion in political conflict impact the mind, body, and brain? Might insight into the lives of Palestinian youth somehow help us find the path to peace? Our international research team attempted to address these questions in a recently completed pilot study. We went back to the basics and tried a new approach. First, the prior research did an excellent job of showing high rates of emotional distress but told us little about how that distress was related to the political experience of Palestinians. That is, despite the frequent statement that Palestinians feel they suffer oppression, there has been no prior research into the impact of perceived oppression on mental health. Second, hormones are well known to play an important role in human emotions, especially stress and aggression (Breedlove, Crews, & McCarthy, 2002; Dabbs & Dabbs, 2000; Nelson, 1995). Despite decades of study of the powerful role of hormones in human behavior, however, virtually nothing is known about the hormonal impact of political conflicts. It seemed appropriate not only to investigate the emotional impact of the intifada on young Palestinians but also to attempt to deepen our understanding of the relationship between their emotions, their political attitudes, and their hormones. In designing our study, we considered several intriguing facts about hormones and behavior. Stress and subordination are known to alter the function of the hypothalamic-pituitary-adrenal axis; when animals and humans experience stress, it revs up the adrenal gland to produce the hormone cortisol (Blanchard, Saka, McEwen, Weiss, & Blanchard, 1993; McEwen, 2002). Salivary cortisol is an easy-to-collect sample that may reflect the effects of stress on the brain even better than blood cortisol because it measures the free, active hormone. Although

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acute stress raises cortisol levels, chronic stress is associated with lower levels, as seen in those who suffer from persistent PTSD. Similarly, high testosterone levels correlate with dominance and some aspects of aggression, whereas low levels occur in subordination stress (as might be experienced in political oppression) (Masur & Lamb, 1980). Just as saliva is good for measuring cortisol, salivary measures of testosterone provide valuable information about the biology of dominance and mood (Filaire, Bernain, Sagnol, & Lac, 2001; Gonzalez-Bono, Salvador, Serrano, & Ricarte, 1999). Members of the research team in Gaza recruited 52 14-year-old Palestinian boys. The boys were recruited from schools run by the United Nations in refugee camps near Gaza City that had had significant experience with Israeli military incursions during the second intifada. Approval was obtained from the Palestinian Ministries of Education and the Research Committee of the GCMHP. The boys’ participation involved four meetings with a researcher to provide morning samples of saliva. The boys were offered sugar-free gum to stimulate saliva secretion at each collection and then spat into a paper cup. A 5 cubic centimeter saliva sample was obtained from each subject at each meeting. This sample was transferred to a glass tube and frozen until a member of our team received permission to carry the coolers of samples across the border and north to Tel Aviv University’s endocrinology laboratory for analysis. At the time of the second saliva collection, the boys completed five self-rating questionnaires that were translated into Arabic. These included (1) the Beck Depression Inventory (Beck, Ward, Mendelson, Mock, & Erbaugh, 1961), (2) the Beck Anxiety Inventory (Beck, Epstein, Brown, & Staer, 1988), (3) the Aggression Questionnaire (Buss & Warren, 2000), (4) our own new Oppression Questionnaire, (5) and the Islamic Attitudes Inventory, which is our adaptation of a questionnaire used by Schbley (2000) to measure religiosity and political attitudes among Hezbollah members. At the time of this writing, we can report some provocative preliminary results. First, as one might expect, the frequency of direct exposure to stress and traumatic events was high. Although most of the boys’ fathers were employed before the intifada, almost half had lost their jobs. More importantly, 22 of the boys (43%) reported that a family member had been wounded or killed by the Israelis. Second, there was a strikingly high prevalence of depression; fully half of the boys’ depression scores were in the moderate to severe range, and seven had scores in the range of serious major depressive illness. This is a much higher prevalence of serious depression than one expects in boys this age. Third, there was great deal of anxiety; again, fully half of the boys had anxiety scores in the moderate to severe range. Fourth, despite the high exposure to political violence (and in some cases, probably participation in the resistance), the average aggression scores of our subjects were completely normal and age appropriate. Regarding political attitudes, we used the Oppression Questionnaire (OQ) to try to get a sense of whether and how the boys might perceive themselves to be



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oppressed by the Israelis. The OQ is divided into two parts. Half the questions are intended to assess felt oppression, or the feeling that one is living in subjugation. The other half are intended to assess attributed oppression, or the sense that others are deliberately subjecting you to their control. Because we do not have a comparison population, we must be cautious about interpreting the results of the OQ as a validated measure; how much felt oppression is normal for a 14-year-old? Nonetheless, we were able to compare the responses on the OQ to the other psychological measures. We found that the boys who expressed the most felt oppression also exhibited significantly higher levels of both anxiety and depression. Regarding attitudes toward religion and political violence, we were somewhat astonished by the fact that almost every single boy expressed a duty to become a martyr. Perhaps it reflects naïveté, a deep cultural gap, or a failure to fully appreciate the pull of religious duty in extraordinary circumstances, but this finding seemed striking and, to Western sensibilities, somewhat troubling. To assess attitudes toward terrorism more specifically, we asked the boys whether they agreed with three statements: (1) religious ends justify any means, (2) harming civilians is a legitimate tool in a Muslim arsenal, and (3) harming civilians is a form of political participation. More than 60 percent of the boys agreed to at least one of these statements. Of course, we cannot assume that this necessarily means that the boys were supportive of terrorism; far less should we assume that any of them would actually commit a terrorist act. These results do suggest, however, that some boys, more than others, were likely to agree with extremist ideology that would accept or promote political violence. So we considered agreement to these statements as fitting with a rough operational definition of sympathy for terrorism. The boys who expressed this ideology were a bit different from the other boys in several respects. First, boys regarded as more sympathetic to terrorism were more likely to be depressed. Second, the average anxiety scores were higher among those sympathetic to terrorism. Third, perhaps no surprise, the boys who felt treated unjustly were more likely to be sympathetic to terrorism. Yet—perhaps more surprising—there was no relationship at all between sympathy for terrorism and self-rated aggression. In other words, we found no evidence to support a general conclusion that extremism goes along with aggressive personality. With regard to the stress hormone, cortisol, we found that boys with more anxiety and those with more depression both had lower cortisol levels. This is consistent with past research showing that chromic stress may overwhelm the body’s ability to mount a normal hormonal response. We also noted that boys with high depression scores tended to have lower testosterone levels. Again, this is consistent with what we know about the effects of depression on male hormones; sadness and grief tend to hold down testosterone levels and rob people of sexual drive and desire. Finally, we looked at the relationship between testosterone levels and sympathy for terrorism. Candidly, I had wondered which influence

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might be stronger: the potentially testosterone-lowering effect of subordination and defeat in oppressed people struggling for justice or the higher testosterone found in domineering and aggressive types. Our results: Boys with the highest testosterone levels were more likely to express sympathy for terrorism.

What Might This Mean for the Path to Peace? It would be disingenuous to claim any rock-solid conclusions from this small but fascinating study. We did not have access to a good comparison group, we could not use a well-validated measure of perceived oppression (because none exists), and our sample may or may not be representative of typical Palestinian teens. That having been said, this may be the first study to scientifically explore the interaction between emotions, political attitudes, and hormones of young people living in conflict. We might tentatively draw several conclusions. One, as well established by previous work, young Palestinians suffer a very high rate of emotional distress, indicated both by psychological and by endocrine testing. Two, many endorse strong feelings of being oppressed and treated unjustly, and this seems to correlate with their emotional distress. Three, although many have been in the line of fire of one of the world’s most active zones of political violence, they may be no more aggressive than any group of the same age. And four, many of these youngsters, early adolescents who might otherwise be preoccupied with pimples or emerging sexuality, especially those who feel depressed, are embroiled with an extremist ideology that includes action without restraint on the part of their religion, in many cases supporting harming civilians, the essence of terrorism. Thus, another generation of children, both Israelis and Palestinians, is growing up exposed to political violence. Such stresses may have powerful effects on the developing minds and brains of these children. It seems plausible that—regardless of the outcome of the currently disintegrated international peace process—such early exposure to dangerous conflict may result in chronic depression, anxiety, and difficulty achieving an the independent and happy adulthood (Paykel, 2001; Teicher, Andersen, Polcari, Anderson, & Navalta, 2002). The resulting developmental neurobehavioral impact may not only damage these children’s prospects for healthy adult relations but possibly perpetuate the cycle of violence in the Middle East and even the global clash of civilizations. As to the issue of the implications for the path to peace, the main point may be that, contrary to some claims that there is no relationship between psychological distress and terrorism, the combination of feeling oppressed and treated unjustly along with becoming depressed may, in fact, push a young person toward terrorism. Yet all of those factors are modifiable by the opposing party’s giving plausible proof of its concerns for minority rights and its just intentions. In other words, by demolishing buildings, removing economic opportunities, assassinating militants, and humiliating Palestinians at crossing points, the Israeli leadership is probably prolonging the crisis, with a net



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effect of increasing recruitment to terrorism even as they successfully block some attacks. This approach is, however, like buying thicker and thicker shirts for your family as you continue to kick a hornet’s nest. Would reducing the perceived oppression of young Palestinians set us on the path to peace? Again, we should be very cautious about leaping to conclusions. Students of war and peace have long debated whether and how individual factors play a role. War and peace are often precipitated by large-scale territorial disputes, misunderstandings between states, and the psychology states of leaders, not those of ordinary citizens (Cashman, 1993; Vasquez, 2000). Yet one does not want to dismiss the role that the thoughts and feelings of citizens play in large group conflicts. In the case of the present study, the story might go something like this: A widespread sense of oppression and injustice causes emotional distress. Such distress is, among other things, associated with sympathy for terrorism or, more precisely, doing anything to the opponent on behalf of religion. Any large group conflict is built like a pyramid, with the handful of leaders at the top depending on the small group of the warriors in the middle, who are, in turn, recruited from the greater group of citizens that forms the pyramid’s base. If the regular people on the bottom of the pyramid do not support fighting, fighting is less likely to persist. The U.S. withdrawal from Vietnam is a recent example. Therefore, it might be argued that relieving the sense of oppression that grips Palestinian society could take the wind out of the sails of those leaders who prefer war to peace. The stakes are immense. Although the world has seen a surprising and gratifying decline in interstate wars in recent decades, the Human Security Report 2005 warns that transnational terrorism is a growing and major threat to world peace (University of British Columbia Human Security Center, 2005). The prolongation of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is a stimulant to the jihadists. One might attack this threat by trying to capture and kill all terrorists or by occupying all the countries from which they arise. Or one might wholeheartedly pursue genuine efforts to address the addressable grievances that drive large and credibly oppressed groups to despair, distress, and, ultimately, rage. As my father used to say, you can build a fence at the top of the cliff or a hospital at the bottom. You can prevent catastrophe or try to treat the consequences. The first tends to be a lot cheaper. Of course, one must avoid a Pollyannaish simplicity; we must obviously invest in both approaches. Every nation has a right and a duty to protect its citizens. Every nation must determine what is in its own best interest and—so long as humans divide themselves by borders—use force to protect territories and interests when that is the only option. It is really a question of balance. To date, for example, the United States has invested about $280 billion on the military part of its war on terrorism and about $12 million funding a research center to understand the psychological origins of terrorism. Perhaps it is time to review the wisdom of this ratio, spending 23,000 times as much on fighting as on understanding.

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Peace is more than the absence of war and also involves “activities aimed at cultivating genuine, voluntary commitments to shared expressions, projects, and practices” (Cox, 1989, p. 162). Bold and enlightened groups of Israelis and Palestinians see increased rather than decreased dialogue, expressions of tolerance, and redress of grievances on both sides as the way to diminish the force of the extremists’ claims. Those of us who have one foot in scholarly work, trying to understand the psychology of that pivotal world conflict, and the other in the camp of peace are extremely eager to see the most rigorous discoveries of peace research applied to practice. One does not want to exaggerate the importance of any one piece of research, but studies such as ours may hint at the virtues of shifting the balance of our energies: investing more in efforts that defuse conflict in the long run, attending much more to the emotional impact of policies, rather than solely in efforts to gain military dominance in the short run. Achieving a lasting peace will surely depend on increased sophistication at the psychosocial level, goodwill, and the courage of those brave few who are prepared to stand up to the voices of prejudice, rage, and lust for power. Recognizing the measurable psychological distress of the oppressed is a step toward a sense of shared humanity. Our sense of shared humanity may light the path to peace.

Note I would like to express sincere appreciation to my colleagues in this research project: Samir Qouta, PhD; Barbara Celinska, MA; Rula Y. Abu-Safieh, MBA; Janice Adelman, MS; and Naftali Stern, MD.

References Beck, A. T., Epstein, N., Brown, G., & Staer, R. A. (1988). An inventory for measuring clinical anxiety: Psychometric properties. Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology, 56, 893–897. Beck, A. T., Ward, C. H., Mendelson, M., Mock, J., & Erbaugh, J. (1961). An inventory for measuring depression. Archives of General Psychiatry, 4, 53–63. Blanchard, D. C., Saka, R. R., McEwen, B., Weiss, S. M., & Blanchard, R. J. (1993). Subordination stress: Behavioral, brain, and neuroendocrine measures. Behavioral Brain Research, 58, 113–121. Breedlove, S. M., Crews, D., & McCarthy, M. M. (2002). Behavioral endocrinology (2nd ed.). Cambridge, MA: MIT Press. Buss, A. H., & Warren, W. L. (2000). Aggression questionnaire manual. Los Angeles: Western Psychological Services. Cashman, G. (1993). What causes war? An introduction to theories of international conflict. Lanham, MD: Lexington Books. Cox, G. (1989). The light at the end of the tunnel and the light in which we may walk: Two concepts of peace. In P. Caws (Ed.), The causes of quarrel: Essays on peace, war, and Thomas Hobbes (162–169). Boston: Beacon Press. Dabbs, J. M., & Dabbs, M. G. (2000). Heroes, rogues and lovers: Testosterone and behavior. New York: McGraw-Hill.



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Filaire, E., Bernain, X., Sagnol, M., & Lac, G. (2001). Preliminary results on mood state, salivary testosterone: Cortisol ratio and team performance in a professional soccer team. European Journal of Applied Physiology, 86, 179–184. Gonzalez-Bono, E., Salvador, A., Serrano, M. A., & Ricarte, J. (1999). Testosterone, cortisol, and mood in a sports team competition. Hormones and Behavior, 35, 55– 62. Huntington, S. P. (1996). The clash of civilizations and the remaking of world order. New York: Simon & Schuster. Manwaring, M. G. & Olson, W. J. (1996). Managing contemporary conflict: Pillars of success. Boulder, CO: Westview Press. Masur, A., & Lamb, T. A. (1980). Testosterone, status, and mood in human males. Hormones and Behavior, 14, 236–246. McEwen, B. S. (2002). The neurobiology and neuroendocrinology of stress: Implications for post-traumatic stress disorder from a basic science perspective. Psychiatric Clinics of North America, 25, 469–494. Miller, T., el-Masri, M., Allodi, F., & Qouta, S. (1999). Emotional and behavioural problems and trauma exposure of school-age Palestinian children in Gaza: Some preliminary findings. Medicine, Conflict, and Survival, 15, 368–78. Nelson, R. J. (1995). An introduction to behavioral endocrinology. Sunderland, MA: Sinauer. Paykel, E. S. (2001). Stress and affective disorders in humans. Seminars in Clinical Neuropsychiatry, 6, 4–11. Qouta, S., & El Sarraj, E. (1993). Level of anxiety in Gaza before and after the intifada. Psychological Studies, 3, 1–11. Qouta, S., Punamaki, R.-L., & El-Sarraj, E. (1995). The impact of the peace treaty on psychological well-being: A follow-up study of Palestinian children. Child Abuse & Neglect, 19, 1197–1208. Roberts, J. M. (2003). The new history of the world. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Schbley, A. H. (2000). Torn between God, family, and money: The changing profile of Lebanon’s religious terrorists. Studies in Conflict and Terrorism, 23, 175–196. Teicher, M. H., Andersen, S. L., Polcari, A., Anderson, C. M., & Navalta, C. P. (2002). Developmental neurobiology of childhood stress and trauma. Psychiatric Clinics of North America, 25, 397–426. Thabet, A. A., Abed, Y., & Vostanis, P. (2002). Emotional problems in Palestinian children living in a war zone: A cross-sectional study. Lancet, 359, 1801–1804. Thabet, A.A.M., Abed, Y., & Vostanis, P. (2004). Comorbidity of PTSD and depression among refugee children during war conflict. Journal of Child Psychology and Psychiatry, 45, 533–542. Thabet, A.A.M., & Vostanis, P. (1998). Social adversities and anxiety disorders in the Gaza Strip. Archives of Disease in Childhood, 78, 439–442. Thabet, A. A., & Vostanis, P. (2000). Post traumatic stress disorder reactions in children of war: A longitudinal study. Child Abuse & Neglect, 24, 291–298. University of British Columbia Human Security Center. (2005). The Human Security Report 2005: War and Peace in the21st Century Retrieved July 18, 2006, from http:// www.humansecurityreport.info/index.php?option5content&task5view&id528& Itemid563 Vasquez, J. A. (Ed.). (2000). What do we know about war? Lanham, MD: Rowman & Littlefield.

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Feeling Safe: An Israeli Intervention Program for Helping Children Cope with Exposure to Political Violence and Terrorism Michelle Slone and Anat Shoshani

“He is scared all the time, cries easily, and refuses to go to sleep. We don’t understand what is happening and end up arguing with him. He used to be such a happy, friendly, carefree little boy,” concerned parents told the psychologist about their 10-year-old son. “Every morning he resists going to school, and when he gets home, he calls us at work continuously to ask when we are coming home and sits in the apartment waiting for us, as if paralyzed with fear.” This story, and many others like it, typifies the types of problems experienced by children—and their parents—living in conditions of violence and reflects the mounting number of referrals of these children to mental health services in Israel since the beginning of the current intifada. The onslaught of terrorist attacks in Israel over the past years has exerted a powerful impact on children’s adjustment and well-being, resulting in an alarming increase in psychiatric referrals. Frequently observed symptoms include anxiety, dependence and clinging behavior, sleep and appetite disorders, and psychosomatic complaints such as headaches and stomachaches. Teachers complain of children’s inability to concentrate, irritability, and increased violence. At the peak of terrorist attacks in 2001, Israeli psychiatric hotline services reported 16,000 referrals of children and adolescents related to the security situation. Most of these referrals were related to children’s fears precipitated by parents’ late return home on a day on which a terrorist attack had occurred or by fears of leaving home, doing chores at the mall, or traveling on a bus. Certainly, the impact of current conflict and terrorism is being felt among the public at large, but foremost at risk are children and youth forced to negotiate the usual developmental tasks of adolescence against a backdrop of violence and insecurity, compounding their susceptibility and vulnerability. This chapter ad-

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dresses the impact of conflict and terrorism on children and presents an intervention strategy designed to promote children’s resilience in the face of such circumstances. The primary intervention program described here was developed and tested in Israeli schools, but the procedures can be applied in other settings.

The Climate of Childhood in Israel An environment of conflict and war has persisted in Israel since its establishment as a state, with involvement in numerous wars, border skirmishes, incursions, and terrorist attacks that affect individuals and the collective. Central to these hostilities have been Israeli-Palestinian relations that have been troubled since the Six-Day War in 1967, during which Israel took Gaza from Egypt and the West Bank from Jordan. This land has been inhabited by Palestinians living under Israeli rule who gradually have viewed Israel as depriving them of their land. Ensuing unrest prompted the rise of fundamentalist organizations advocating armed force. The conflict has been marked by two periods of violent Palestinian uprisings, the second of which, the Al-Aqsa intifada, broke out in October 2000. The eruption of this intifada has brought unprecedented cycles of violence and mounting casualties on both sides. For the Palestinians, occupation of cities by the Israeli Army and destruction of homes and economic hardship have fragmented society and created untold suffering at every societal level. For Israelis, all sense of security has been stripped by an unrelenting spate of suicide bombings and terrorist attacks throughout the country. Escalating statistics of the numbers of children killed in the intifada is only one indicator of the serious risk of this violence to children. Many have been injured or lost loved ones. Vast numbers of children witness or hear about attacks on the radio before going to school or see frightening scenes on television of explosions, charred skeletons of buses and public places, dead bodies, and rescue teams searching for body parts to bury. Others hear gunshots during the night, see political demonstrations, or overhear parents arguing over responses to terrorism. Studies show a sharp increase in psychological distress in adolescents during the current period of terrorism. Research has also linked psychological distress to fluctuations in the degree of political violence, terror, and insecurity in the country (Slone, 2006). Research also shows that children exhibit a wide variety of individual differences in reactions to conditions of political conflict and frequently manifest surprising resilience in the face of adversity. Resilience has been defined as the process of, capacity for, or outcome of successful adaptation despite challenging or threatening circumstances. Operationally, resilience is inferred from measuring specific behaviors or thoughts that demonstrate competency to cope (Masten & Coatsworth, 1998). To identify the source of individual differences in children’s resilience, a seven-year research project was conducted in Israel (Slone, 2006). In this project, extent of exposure to political violence was measured by a Political



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Life Events scale developed for the research, and psychological outcome was measured by the Brief Symptom Inventory (Derogatis & Spencer, 1982). These assessments allowed examination of the relationship between severity of exposure to psychological distress and also allowed identification of individual personality and behavior factors that mediate this relationship. A list of variables was identified that represented a profile of resilience factors that promote coping under conditions of political violence. This profile suggests that the resilient child analyzes a situation, constructs appropriate problem-solving strategies, and acts with self-confidence and mastery. Emotions are neither suppressed nor uncontrollably expressed but, rather, contained and modulated. A tendency exists toward introversion rather than garrulous engagement with others. The existence of ideological commitment, not necessarily religious but based on attributing meaning to an event, also prompts resilience. Further, the resilient child analyzes appropriate resources of support and effectively mobilizes help.

Enhancing Resilience Once these resilience factors were identified, an intervention program was designed to include activities that addressed and embellished these qualities. A workshop was designed to train teachers in curricula tailored to promote these resilience factors in children. Given the effects of prolonged and chronic exposure to political violence on Israeli children, a variety of interventions have been developed over the years; however, these have focused mainly on training therapeutic teams, parents, and teachers to help children cope during or after a crisis (secondary intervention; Klingman, Raviv, & Stein, 2000; Omer, 1991; Shamai, 1994). However, the model of primary ­ prevention—intervention instituted before the initial onset of ­disturbance—can be particularly useful for public health (Caplan, 1964). The efficacy of such primary prevention interventions to reduce psychological distress in settings of political violence has been shown in other countries (during the 1968 Cultural Revolution in China, the Vietnam War in 1968, and in Croatia in 1991), most of which have focused on preparedness of social, community, and health networks but not school systems (Minkowski, 1993; Omer, 1991). A few innovative preparedness programs have been piloted in the Israeli school system, but few studies have examined their efficacy.

The Feeling Safe Program The Feeling Safe program is a primary intervention in the educational setting aimed at strengthening factors shown to foster resilience among adolescents faced with chronic violence. The program addresses social, cognitive, and emotional aspects of adolescents’ functioning that ideally can be integrated smoothly into regular classroom curricula.

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The program targets three of the factors found to function as resilience variables according to the previous seven-year study. The three factors are mobilization of social support, problem solving, and attribution of meaning. These factors were selected on the basis of their centrality to resilience and the ease of their translation into practical activities (other factors as self-esteem, emotional regulation, and sense of competence are in development). The first factor of social support is aimed at developing more open dialogue between teachers and students and expanding strategies to identify resources to mobilize support. Social support is defined as the perception or experience that one is loved and cared for, esteemed and valued, and part of a social network that provides mutual assistance and obligations (Wills, 1991). Social support has long been known to mute the experience of stress, enhance well-being, reduce the severity of illness, and speed recovery from both mental and physical disorders (Seeman, 1996). The second factor, problem solving, addresses cognitive processing of complex, poorly understood events, analytical thinking, and problem-solving strategies in situations of ambiguity and uncertainty. Research shows that children with below-average problem-solving skills have more difficulty in managing threatening circumstances (Masten & Coatsworth, 1998). The third factor, attribution of meaning, is aimed at reinforcing positive thinking, reality testing, and the use of ideology to ascribe meaning to events. The protective nature of ideology has been documented, in that the meaning of an event within a broad social and political context has been found to function as an aid in coping with stressors (Garbarino, Kostelny, & Dubrow, 1991). Further support comes from research in Israel that shows that Ultraorthodox Jews manifest less distress reactions to political conflict (Pines, 1989), a study of Jewish Israeli preadolescents that shows that high levels of ideological commitment serve as a protective factor (Punamaki, 1996), and recent research that children who rationalized the 9/11 terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center through cognitive appraisal of the situation significantly reduced their anxiety levels (Hock, Hart, Kang, & Lutz, 2004). For each of the three resilience factors, activities were developed and collated into a handbook and kit, giving theoretical explanations of the target concepts and providing material and supplies (pens, note cards) necessary to implement the activities. The program was developed at Tel Aviv University and administered to all grades in four public middle schools—approximately 1,800 students—from different parts of Israel from 2003 to the present. Teacher training took place in a comfortable location in the school in the evening. Teachers held sessions with the children during the weekly social studies lesson in the classroom. To assess the efficacy of the program, self-report questionnaires were administered before and immediately after the program to the experimental groups as well as to an equal number of control groups of children who did not receive the program.



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Program Structure The program involves a teacher-training workshop in which teachers and school advisors of students aged 12 to 15 participate in a series of group seminars that give information and strategies for implementing each of the activities in the handbook related to the identified ­resilience factors. The structure of the program is presented in Fig. 23.1. In the first seminar, participants learn about social support and practice the activities aimed at enhancing this factor. The second seminar begins with sharing feedback from the experience of the social support activities in the classroom and then addresses the second factor—problem solving—using the same format as for the first seminar. This cycle is repeated for all lessons, handbooks, and associated exercises. The closing seminar summarizes the group processes both for the seminar participants (teachers) and the schoolchildren. Afterward, they are meant to implement the activities in the classroom over a five-week period. Because the educational staff practices the activities, teachers not only understand the processes but also can derive therapeutic benefits related to their own resilience. Similarly, other groups can practice the activities for similar gain, including parent groups and civic groups. The trainers are two clinical psychologists with experience in group dynamics and traumatology. Such expertise is necessary since the material touches on charged issues that may raise anxiety, memories, and self-esteem difficulties, among others.

Figure 23.1.  Intervention program structure.

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Map of Support: Example of an Activity to Develop Social Support An activity from the social-support handbook—the map of ­support—requires that children pick a small, folded piece of paper from a box, onto which is written different activities, such as going to a shopping mall, dealing with an emotional problem, or hearing bad news. Students are asked to think about a partner they would choose to talk to about this or to accompany them on the activity. Students are encouraged to openly share their ideas about whom and how they would mobilize different forms of support from sources available to them. Discrepancies in resource availability and individual tendencies toward help-seeking invariably became apparent, frequently leading to discussion about availability and relative usefulness of various types of support. Many children learn new potential support sources from their peers’ suggestions. In the second part of this session, students make cards on which they print sources of support whom they can approach in times of need, such as mother, father, teacher, friend, religious leader. These cards are laid out in a horizontal row on the floor, and children place a card with their own name under each source available to them. As shown in Fig. 23.2, a map is constructed of preferred sources of support and extent of utilization of various sources. The example of a class map of support in Fig. 23.2 reveals that friends and parents are perceived as the most appealing social supports (albeit by this small sample). The map also shows that students would go though the Internet more than to teachers, suggesting the underutilization of teachers and other school staff, such as counselors, as well as siblings. As administration of the activities in this handbook progressed, however, teachers reported increasing requests for guidance and support from school staff.

Fear and the Shield: Example of an Activity for Problem Solving An activity addressing problem solving begins with reading a poem about a child whose brother is afraid. Students discuss the poem and then paint or draw an example of fear on a sheet of paper. Then they share about their drawings with the group. Next, students paint or draw a shield, meaning whatever they imagine would protect them from the fear depicted in their first drawing. These drawings are then also shared and discussed in the group. Frequent motifs of fear drawings were darkness, frightening characters wielding weapons, terrorists and explosions, and stereotypical enemies. Despite the loaded content of the fear drawings, students expressed enjoying the experience. Some themes emerging from the shield drawings included security forces such as police and army, family members, doing a peaceful activity, fantasy protective weapons, and engaging in distracting activities such as television viewing, sports, and surfing the Internet. In discussing the drawings, they learn that many have similar fears, but the variety of types of shields opens possibilities for new ways of coping.



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Figure 23.2.  An example activity: Map of social support.

In one of the workshops, a 14-year-old adolescent girl timidly shared with the class her fear of going to the supermarket when her mother asked her to help with errands. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, another girl raised her hand and related that she is afraid to go out in the evening with her friends to the local mall. Slowly, the students began to share fears they had never voiced before in the class.

Identity Certificate: Example of an Activity for Increased Meaning An example of an activity from the attribution of meaning handbook begins by asking two volunteer students to put on either pink or dark-colored sunglasses. The remaining members of the class suggest difficult situations such as “you failed a test” or “you solved a problem badly” or “someone gave you bad news.” The student wearing the pink sunglasses must respond in line with a rosy, optimistic outlook, whereas the student wearing the dark sunglasses addresses the same situation pessimistically. Teachers explain that the purpose of the exercise is to show that we have differences in our individual perspective (as determined by the lens through which we view events), that there is no one universal interpretation of situation, and that the same situation may be interpreted, addressed, and responded to according to personal orientation or other personality or social characteristics. In the second part of the activity, students receive blank booklets and are asked to create an identity certificate by writing demographic or other characteristic features of themselves on each page that influence their perceptions or experiences. Then each selects a piece of paper from a hat on which is printed different situations and describes what that situation means to them, according to the identity characteristics they wrote down.

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Students were surprised to discover that few situations are interpreted the same way by everyone and that different personal meanings influence experience. Students who identified themselves as secular had particularly different interpretations of events compared to those who identified themselves as religious. The activities in the handbooks stimulated lively discussion and evoked emotional responses, intense and novel group processes, and new patterns of communication between teachers and students and between students. Many teachers observed closer relationships between students and the emergence of a class atmosphere of considerably more openness, sharing, and mutual support than before the program. Scores on the questionnaires administered before and after the program suggested the positive impact of the program. Significant increases in scores were evident in all three resilience factors in the experimental, but not the control, groups. With regard to the social support factor, students’ ratings showed more effective strategies for identification of appropriate sources of support and increased ability for mobilization of support from family members, school staff, and peers. Scores on the problem-solving factor showed students’ greater ability for realistic and logical appraisals of situations, extension of appropriate problemsolving strategies, and ability to halt automatic cognitions in favor of critical analysis of the situation. Scores also showed greater attribution of meaning and positive thinking as a means of stress reduction. Findings of the study further showed a significant decrease in general psychological distress from before to immediately after the program for the experimental but not the control groups.

Making Sense of Feeling Safe Although there is no quick fix for the significant psychological distress that becomes part of young people’s lives in conditions of chronic and extreme violence and insecurity, it is essential to develop programs to reduce the anxiety that is dangerous to physical and mental health and to increase positive adaptation and resilience to prepare children to deal with potential challenging situations, such as those resulting from conditions of conflict and terrorism (Killian, 2002). Primary prevention interventions like the Feeling Safe program are a valuable addition to current programs that focus on intervention to cope after acute incidents, which are often focused on exposed populations already manifesting posttraumatic symptoms. One such program that has been popular in Israel is debriefing, in which teachers halt regular class activities to allow children free expression of emotions to helps process, contain, and reformulate feelings in a controlled environment (Brewin, 2001). The present intervention avoids the risks of these programs of retraumatizing individuals by resurfacing threatening material; stimulating unrestrained catharsis when run by untrained, personally involved, and equally traumatized staff; dispatching professionals who are foreign to the school environment and unacquainted with the children (Klingman, 1997); or interfering with natural healing processes (Rose & Bisson, 1998).



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Conclusion In prolonged situations of insecurity, preventive primary interventions such as the Feeling Safe program have various benefits, including potential for being a cost-effective educational and therapeutic strategy that can be applied with easily implemented training in a variety of settings, amenability to quantitative and qualitative evaluations, and directed toward creating environments that encourage the development and nurturance of broad expressions of resilience skills in various contexts. The methods can be simple and fun, making them well accepted by students. Administration of such programs by teachers locates the intervention in the child’s everyday ­environment—at school—increasing familiarity and amenability of the techniques and exercises. In this way, the education system can fulfill a special role complementing individual and family therapeutic interventions that are more limited in scope and traditionally restricted to treating those with impairment and disorder. The education system with its access to all children and adolescents across the demographic spectrum is in a unique position to institute preventive interventions that strengthen children’s resilience and ability to cope with violent environments in which they may live. Growing up in a climate of political conflict and violence is no easy task for children. Although children exposed to political violence, war, terror, and other conflicts at high levels are at great risk for significant distress, developmental impairment, and psychological disorders, it is also becoming increasingly clear that, in the face of these conditions, children can mobilize resources and behaviors that are part of a profile of resilience, which can help them cope with even extreme conditions. What is more, these qualities can be strengthened and developed. These findings prove a valuable opportunity for the development of intervention programs that can enhance resilience and preventive coping among children caught up in wars and violence not of their making. This program has the added advantage that it can be adapted to other populations—as is under way for Israeli Arabs—that will not only benefit that culture but also serve as a bridge for understanding, cooperation, and reconciliation.

References Brewin, C. R. (2001). Cognitive and emotional reactions to traumatic events: Implications for short-term intervention. Advances in Mind and Body Medicine, 17(3), 163–169. Caplan, G. (Ed.). (1964). Principles of preventative psychiatry. New York: Basic Books. Derogatis, L. R., & Spencer, P. M. (1982). The Brief Symptom Inventory (BSI): Administration, scoring and procedures manual. Baltimore: Clinical Psychometric Research. Garbarino, J., Kostelny, K., & Dubrow, N. (1991). What children can tell us about living in danger. American Psychologist, 46, 376–383.

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Hock, E. H., Hart, M., Kang, M. J., & Lutz, W. J. (2004). Predicting children’s reactions to terrorist attacks: The importance of self-reports and preexisting characteristics. American Journal of Orthopsychiatry, 74, 253–262. Killian, B. (2002). Is child protection possible in areas of war and violence? Child Abuse & Neglect, 26, 587–617. Klingman, A. (1997). Coping with crisis in schools. Jerusalem, Israel: Psychological and Counseling Service, Ministry of Education. Klingman, A., Raviv, A., & Stein, B. (2000). Children in stress and emergencies: Psychological characteristics and interventions. Jerusalem, Israel: Psychological and Counseling Service, Ministry of Israel. Masten, A. S., & Coatsworth, J. D. (1998). The development of competence in favorable and unfavorable environments. American Psychologist, 53, 205–220. Minkowski, A. (1993). Mental stress on children exposed to war and natural catastrophes. Infant Mental Health Journal, 14, 273–282. Omer, H. (1991). Mass terrorist attacks: The role of the emergency team. Sichot, 3, 157– 170. Pines, R. (1989). Why do Israelis burn out: The role of the intifada. Paper presented at the International Conference on Psychological Stress and Adjustment, Tel Aviv, Israel. Punamaki, R. L. (1996). Can ideological commitment protect children’s psychological well-being in situations of political violence? Child Development, 67, 55–69. Rose, S., & Bisson, J. L. (1998). Brief early psychological interventions following trauma: A systematic review of the literature. Journal of Traumatic Stress, 11, 697–710. Seeman, T. E. (1996). Social ties and health: The benefits of social integration. Annals of Epidemiology, 6, 442–451. Shamai, M. (1994). Family crisis intervention by phone: Intervention with families during the Gulf War. Journal of Marital and Family Therapy, 30), 317–322. Slone, M. (2006). Promoting children’s coping in politically violent environments: Suggestions for education. In C. Greenbaum, P. Veerman, & N. Bacon-Shnoor (Eds.), Protection of children during armed political conflict: A multidisciplinary perspective. Antwerp, Belgium: Intersentia. Wills, T. A. (1991). Social support and interpersonal relationships. In M. S. Clark (Ed), Review of personality and social psychology (pp. 265–289). Newbury Park, CA: Sage.

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24

Dealing with Demonization of the “Other” in the Middle East by Metaphoric Tools to Transform Foe to Friend Ofra Ayalon

Don’t curse the darkness—light a candle. —Palestinian proverb

The impact of the recent escalation of violence between the Israelis and Palestinians, with its associated alienation, hate, fear, and mutual suspicion, has taken its toll on the population of both societies and, sadly, impacted the youngest victims: children. This chapter presents the psychological process that underlies demonization and conceptual models and specific tools to transform foe into friend.

Demonization of the “Other” In the beginning we create the enemy. Before the weapon comes the image. —Sam Keen, “Faces of the Enemy: Reflections of the Hostile Imagination,” 1986

The cycle of violence between Israelis and Palestinians in the current crisis creates negative judgments about each other, referred to as the demonization of the other. The psychological process by which this develops takes place when the child denies aspects of the self that reflect unacceptable impulses like jealousy, greed, and anger, splitting them off by means of the defense mechanism of projection, turning the newly created into a scapegoat (Keen, 1986; Volkan, 1990). This is evident even in healthy child play, when children play with toy soldiers or create evil characters that do bad things so the child can feel good (Olweean, 2002). This splitting of good and bad is responsible for creating enemy masks in our imagination and sticking them onto the faces of those whom we define as the oth-

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ers. These masks represent archetypes of the shadow and evil whereby the enemy is described as inhuman and inferior, containing a host of negative attributes such as ugly, dirty, greedy, dishonest, criminal, barbarian, satanic. Clad by images like these, the other becomes a ready target for persecution and destruction (Ayalon, 2005). These perceptions are often reinforced by education from early childhood and by political brainwashing, whereby the demonization of the other allows the attribution of hateful and threatening qualities to a group of people whom we perceive as alien or different. Political rivalry and war create a vicious circle, feeding these stereotypes, as is evident in the current Palestinian-Israeli conflict. Early training of children in this process is developmentally dangerous because it can become too absolute, fixed, and irreversible (Flashman, 2003). By projecting murderous impulses upon each other, Palestinian and Israeli children become estranged from their own inner aggression and violence. By demonizing the Palestinians, Israeli children may feel free from responsibility for the pain caused to the other, whom they see as always guilty and inhuman, and vice versa. This ongoing distortion blocks natural curiosity and curtails any prospect for empathy (Ayalon, 1993a, 1993b, 1998a; Lahad & Ayalon, 1997). As a result, instead of empathy for the other, children direct their frustration and anger at an anonymous other: the Palestinians or the Israelis (Ayalon, 1998b). Thus, Israeli children do not try to imagine what it is like to live in a Palestinian refugee camp, to be stopped and searched at military road blocks, to suffer a frightful encounter with Israeli soldiers, to see their parents or older brothers humiliated or injured. Palestinian children would not be able to imagine the horror of Israeli children exposed to suicide bombers on streets, on school busses, and in shopping malls. On the contrary, they might experience joy of vengeance, as they believe that Israeli children deserve their agony because “they are all bad.” Demonization of the other condemns children to a future of hopelessness and possible bloodshed. As child psychiatrist Dr. Flashman maintains, “Nothing gives children more hope than the understanding that children of the enemy side are very much like themselves—also growing up in times of pain, solitude, and silence. Children need to hope that on the other side there are children like themselves, who wish to live in a quiet and just way, protected and safe” (Flashman, 2003, p. 78). Learning about each other can turn foe into friend. Lecturing against demonization, however, is insufficient and may only be experienced by children as another effort of adults to impose their views and silence children’s feelings. A valuable antidote is to give adequate voice to feelings that are not acknowledged.

Two Conceptual Models as Contexts to De-demonize the Other One conceptual model for the current methods of de-demonizing the enemy for children evolves from Lumsden’s analysis of three zones of human experience (Lumsden & Wolfe, 1996). The First Zone refers to situations in the outer



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world and cultural systems that trigger and maintain the cycle of violence; the Second Zone refers to the individual’s inner world, identity, sense of self, and belief systems that harbor the inner split that leads to the demonization of others. The Third Zone is the transitional space, where change and healing can take place. Children naturally enter this zone when they engage in play, tell stories, and do creative activities, where taboo emotions can be expressed without criticism or punishment and new solutions can be invented. Activities from this point of view can be helpful in healing the hatred between the Palestinians and the Israelis and interrupting the demonization of the other. The present techniques are reflected in the activities of the Middle East Children’s Association (MECA), founded in 1996, in a time of terror when two visionaries—Israeli codirector Adina Shapiro and Palestinian codirector Dr. Ghassan Abdullah—committed to provide opportunities for peace education for Palestinian and Israeli education systems. They created binational joint meetings of group facilitators, teachers, and school administrators to counteract violence within and between the two societies, enhance education toward values of peace and understanding, and to address children’s stress. Creative activities within the Third Zone emerged from our conceptual model called the BASIC Ph model, an acronym for a holistic multimodal framework that contains six coping channels (Ayalon, 1992; Ayalon & Lahad, 2000; Lahad, 2000b) that include: 1. Belief Systems, approached indirectly by means of narratives, stories, and metaphors in an attempt to modify stereotypes of the other and de-demonization of the enemy. 2. The Affective mode legitimizes the expression of a wide range of emotions through verbal and nonverbal expressive methods, like COPE cards described later. 3. The Social/Interpersonal mode is tapped by accepting and acknowledging the other as different but not strange by methods that reach out, build trust, and exchange practical ideas for the implementation of reconciliation projects. 4. The Imaginative/Metaphoric mode suspends judgments and allows for the creation of a vision of a better future in the midst of a dire reality of strife and conflict. This mode is key when working with children, who easily adapt to methods that use guided fantasy, mutual storytelling, “right brain” drawing and sculpting, playing, and interacting with projective cards and small objects. 5. The Cognitive mode involves learning facts and figures of recent history of the two nations, and also broadening the knowledge base on conflict resolution and problem-solving strategies as a way to gain control over a chaotic situation. 6. The Physical mode is used to build a flexible mastery of balancing tension and relaxation, establish body boundaries and reexamine the relationship between personal space and trust.

This multimodal approach is effective in helping people cope with trauma and negotiate toward resolution of conflicts, situations of violent armed conflict,

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suicide prevention, death and loss, and domestic violence (Ayalon & Lahad, 1995, 2000; Lahad, 2000a). Some guiding principles in dealing with children are that a child has a limited ability to verbalize and process information cognitively, attention span is short, spontaneous imagination comes naturally, and play is the natural language of children and functions as a spontaneous auto therapy.

Metaphoric Activities to Create a Safe Place and Express Feelings Children are faced with three types of needs in situations of trauma: personal security, connection with others facing the trauma, and giving voice to the personal meaning of the situation (Rosenfeld, Caye, Ayalon, & Lahad, 2005). Achieving these needs is sometimes unattainable by direct approach and greatly facilitated by the use of metaphors, games, exercises, and activities as those described here.

COPE Cards COPE cards are a set of illustrated cards that display challenging situations. The child randomly selects cards and expresses the associations they evoke, thereby identifying their particular ways of coping with crisis, stress, and trauma. This experience opens up new ideas and possibilities instead of repeating familiar patterns of thought and response. COPE cards reach into inner pain and uncover inner strength. Use of projective/metaphoric cards accesses repressed emotional experiences and projections and contains emotions that are deemed inexpressible, such as irrational fear of the other, hatred, retaliation wishes, and attraction to and identification with the enemy. A kind of virtual training takes place in dealing with challenging situations, surfing beyond time and space, and experimenting with possible solutions to conflict-laden issues, all within the safe world of image and metaphor (Ayalon, 2003).

The Feeling Wheel The cards are often used with an additional tool called the Feeling Wheel, a method for giving a name to pain. Children put their cards on a large circle that has names of feelings written on it. They are asked to identify a feeling they have and place their cards accordingly on the wheel. Later, they may be asked to talk about the cards and share their feelings. For younger children, the names of feelings that they already recognize can be written on the wheel, as shown in Figure 24.1. In this way, a wheel is created with room for all feelings of the group. Writing them on the paper gives feelings a name and a place; this concretizing helps children cope with feelings instead of their being abstract and confusing. The children may be told a specific situation and asked to choose a feeling related to that; for example, hearing of a recent terror attack, military raid, or any other threat or injury to their respective communities. In mixed, binational



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Figure 24.1.  Feeling wheel.

groups, the use of the ­Feeling Wheel enables each group of children to listen, accept, and contain feelings of the other group without interruption, blame, or guilt. This activity builds coping modalities of the BASIC Ph model, including Affect, Social Interaction, Imagination, Cognition, and Physical channels.

Changing Attitudes toward the Enemy Children love stories, hearing them, and telling them. Storytelling can be used to transform demonization of the other. Telling stories directly and indirectly influences moods and states of minds, attitudes, and behaviors (Gersie, 1997). Also, when listening to a story, children may find some solutions that seem tailored to their unique internal struggles, and they can actively participate in weaving the story plot while maintaining a protective distance from personal, unresolved, painful issues. Stories may be woven by the group, contributing their own images, projections, and experiences. The goal is to facilitate personal expression and trigger memories, knowledge, wishes, and expectations for the future (Ayalon, 1993b). This activity taps the following coping modalities of the BASIC Ph model: Belief Systems, Affect, Social/Interpersonal, Imagination, and Cognition. When stories are chosen for reconciliation training, current conflicts between national loyalties and humane commitments are shifted to a remote time and

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place to allow some safety in expressing one’s feelings and opinions. For example, Pearl Buck’s story “The Enemy” (1943), set in Japan during World War II, tells the story of a Japanese doctor who is confronted with a moral dilemma of whether to cure or kill a wounded escaped U.S. prisoner. Participants are asked to play the role of a metaphorical advisor and rewrite the story line, thereby reflecting their own moral concerns and conflicts regarding the issue of communicating with enemies. The newly created stories are then shared and discussed in the group, within the safe space of the metaphor, as a prelude to dealing with real-life situations. Stories can be chosen that have relevance to a particular group or that are more neutral in content.

Conclusion The demonization of the other perpetuates trauma and violence between individuals and collective societies. Children are particularly vulnerable to this projection onto an enemy, but the negative consequences of this process can be reversed. Simple, effective tools to do this can restore healthy functioning on various levels, including physical, emotional, and spiritual. It is important to recognize the dynamics of demonization and to find techniques to reverse it, to give children a chance to grow up with the generosity and compassion toward themselves and others that characterizes healthy development.

References Ayalon, O. (1992). Rescue: Community oriented prevention education for coping with stress. Ellicott City, MA: Chevron. Ayalon, O. (1993a). A community from crisis to change. In M. Lahad & A. Cohen (Ed.), Community stress prevention 2 (pp. 69–84). Kiryat Shmona, Israel: CSPC. Ayalon, O. (1993b). Post traumatic stress recovery. In J. Wilson & B. Raphael (Eds.), International handbook of traumatic stress syndromes (pp. 855–866). New York: Plenum Press. Ayalon, O. (1998a). Community healing for children traumatized by war. International Review of Psychiatry, 10, 248–257. Ayalon, O. (1998b). Reconciliation: Changing the face of the enemy. Community Stress Prevention, 3, 62–69. Ayalon, O. (2003). Cope cards for trauma and healing. Community Stress Prevention, 5, 82– 94. Ayalon, O. (2005). Children’s responses to terrorist attacks. In D. Knafo (Ed.), Living in terror, working with trauma (pp.171–199). New York: Jason Aronson. Ayalon, O., & Lahad, M. (2000). Life on the edge/2000: Stress and coping in high risk situations and uncertainty. Haifa, Israel: Nord Publications (in Hebrew). Buck, P. (1943). The enemy. In P. Buck (Ed.), Collected stories. New York: Harper Press. Flashman, A. (2003). Israeli and Palestinian teachers learn about children and trauma: Security, connection, meaning. Community Stress Prevention, 5, 69–81. Gersie, A. (1997). Reflection on therapeutic storymaking. London: Jessika Kingsley Publishers.



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Keen, S. (1986). The faces of the enemy: Reflections of the hostile imagination. New York: Harper & Row. Lahad, M. (2000a). Creative supervision. London: Jessica Kingsley. Lahad, M. (2000b). Darkness over the abyss: Supervising crisis intervention teams following disaster. Traumatology, 6 (1–4), 273–294. Lahad, M., & Ayalon, O. (1997). The devastation of children by war. Palestine-Israel Journal of Politics, Economics, and Culture, 4, 34–42. Lumsden, M., & Wolfe, R. (1996). Evolution of the problem-solving workshop: An introduction to social psychological approaches to conflict resolution. Peace and Conflict: Journal of Peace Psychology, 2(1), 37–67. Olweean, S. (2002). Psychological concepts of “the other”: Embracing the compass of the self. In C. E. Stout (Ed.), The psychology of terrorism (Vol. 1, pp. 113–128). Westport, CT: Praeger. Rosenfeld, L., Caye, J., Ayalon, O., & Lahad, M. (2005). When their world falls apart: Helping families and children manage the effects of disasters. Washington, DC: NASW Press. Volkan, V. (1990). Psychoanalytic aspects of ethnic conflicts. In J. V. Montville (Ed.), Conflict and peacemaking in multiethnic societies (pp.81–92). Washington, DC: Lexington.

part iv

Therapeutic and Educational Efforts for Understanding, Coping, and Reconciliation

This part presents efforts by mental health professionals to address problems of people in both societies through counseling techniques, educational programs and coping strategies. The papers include unique culture-specific, cross-cultural and holistic approaches to healing. Authors give us an inside view into their personal as well as professional experience. The final chapter in this part summarizes factors that underlie the tensions between the two societies and guidelines to facilitate emergence from the conflict into reconciliation.

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25

Awaiting the Wounded: A Doctor’s Story Avraham Rivkind

Being in charge of the only Level I trauma center from the Jordan Valley to Beersheba, I have seen indescribable anguish and hope. When a human bomb goes off in Jerusalem, I know within seconds. I wear two beepers and a cell phone, even to bed. Nearly always, driving my own car, I can beat the first ambulances to the hospital, even if I am asleep when the first call comes. The sirens blare as ambulance after ambulance pulls up in front of the main square of Hadassah University Hospital. I wait outside, with dread in my heart. As the doors swing open, my greatest fear is that one of my own four children or my next-door neighbors’ will be lying there among the terror victims, so many of whom are only kids. Our enemies choose their targets to maim our youngsters. They strike at pizza parlors, school buses, frozen-yogurt kiosks. The medics make their own quick decisions in the field; the worst patients are brought to Hadassah Hospital, the only Level I trauma center from the Jordan Valley to Beersheba. I am in charge of that unit. My first job is triage, instantly evaluating which treatment each patient is to receive. He is hurried onto the trauma table with a dozen top medical experts surrounding him. I listen to the reports of medics, I look at the patients, and I touch them. My medical training in Israel and the United States, years of experience, intuition, and sometimes help from the Almighty—something we are not embarrassed to talk about in Jerusalem—help me make these life-and-death decisions. The medical challenges are daunting. Victims with blast injuries can seem perfect on the outside but may be burning up inside. On one occasion, I knelt over a beautiful young woman named Shiri Nagari in the hospital parking lot. I asked her how she was feeling, and she answered that she was okay. But I felt that something was wrong.

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She was slowing down. I ordered immediate intubation to create an airway. Some of my colleagues thought we needed to spend time on the patients with more visible wounds. Her chest X-ray confirmed my hunch, however: a white butterfly on the black background. Shiri’s lungs had exploded. The same loud wave of air that smashes your eardrums can compress the air in your lungs and send it to destroy the organs in your abdominal cavity. Three concussive waves do lethal damage when a bomb explodes in an enclosed area. We rushed Shiri to our trauma operating room, always left empty for emergencies, and opened her up: blood in her chest and abdomen, a liver torn apart. No matter how much blood we pumped in, she could not survive. I am in my fifties, and like most Israelis I serve in the army, too. I have seen my share of tank injuries, unrelenting cancers, and traffic accidents. Shiri’s death was the first time I ever cried at losing a patient. I dread telling the patient’s parents, but that is also part of my job. Even less dire pronouncements are tough. Recently, after a terrorist attack in the openair market in Jerusalem, I had to inform a victim’s wife that we had amputated his leg. His wife flew into a rage. That is an anger I am familiar with. I am always coping with my own anger that we cannot pull off a miracle for each patient. Concussive injuries are only part of the damage caused by urban bombings. We have been treating damage to the brain, lungs, bones, and heart caused by nails, bolts, and ball bearings packed into the high-velocity bombs. Adi Hudja, only 14, had more than 40 metal objects in her legs from the suicide bombing on Ben Yehuda Street. She was bleeding uncontrollably from her wounds. On the spot, we came up with the idea of trying a coagulant for hemophiliacs still not approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, certainly not approved for trauma. It costs $10,000 for a small bottle, but it worked. Six months later, she came for therapy three times a week in Hadassah’s Mt. Scopus Rehab Center, and she is learning to walk. Next year, maybe she will be able to go back to school, too. She is the same age as one of my daughters.

Clock Is Ticking No matter the sophistication of medical care, speed counts. Most of the thousands of procedures we surgeons in my department do each year are elective, but trauma is different. Our chief trauma nurse, Etti Ben Yaakov, always talks about the so-called golden hour we have to save our patients’ lives. She is right. The clock ticks from the moment the obscene sound of the blast is heard. In the trauma center, I am assisted by a remarkable team of doctors, nurses, and technicians. Suicide-blast victims almost all need multidisciplinary care.



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We need to figure out who is going to act first: the neurosurgeon, the vascular surgeon, the general surgeon, the orthopedic surgeon, or the facial surgeon. Even in the middle of the night, doctors and nurses and technicians and cleaning staff arrive at the hospital without even being called. Who will do the anesthesia? Hands fly up. Our entire operating room staff is ready for an unscheduled shift. Every decision I make is informed by my core belief that every patient wants to live. Sometimes this credo forces me to try so-called heroic surgery when everything seems lost. Shimon Ohana, an 18-year-old border police officer, was declared dead in the field, but I asked the ambulance driver to bring him to the hospital. Some decisions are hard to make in the field. I uncovered him, and we opened his chest cavity and began to work. He came back to life but remained in a coma for 17 days. At last, he woke up. Today, he is a fully functioning young man who trains dogs and loves computers. He lives in Beersheba, but he often comes to Hadassah Hospital for follow-up care or to encourage our other patients. I cannot resist hugging him; he is my continued reminder that we cannot give up hope.

Everyone Treated Equally The lines of ambulances, inevitably, bring a fair percentage of Arab patients. We cannot tell whether they are perpetrators or victims. Even if we could, it would not matter; everyone who enters the Hadassah Hospital courtyard is treated equally. And yes, I have operated on terrorists. Once, I was awakened at 2 a.m. on the Sabbath to perform emergency surgery on a terrorist who had been injured while he was being apprehended. I had seen the grisly results of his bus bombings. More than any other question, friends and visitors and even patients want to know how I feel using my medical training to save the lives of these mass murderers. Because I am a doctor, a believing Jew, a human being, I would never allow a patient to die whom I could save. But this saving of life is more than my medical requirements; it is a mission. By fixing the holes in their chests and bellies, I am making a statement that I am not like those forces of darkness that want to engulf this country in blood. Do they understand? I do not have the slightest doubt that they do. They thank me. They look at me differently. My people and I are no longer the demons of their ugly propaganda. And they suddenly comprehend what the American women of Hadassah who established our hospital and most of the hospitals and clinics in this land with no regard for race or creed understood 90 years ago. The Hadassah motto is taken from the prophet Jeremiah who cried for the “healing of my people.” The healing of all peoples is the only way to rescue the future of this region.

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Note Postscript, August 2006: Dedicated to the memory of and to the complete recovery of the victims of the current war. Burt and Doree Wittenberg. Also dedicated to the memory of Karl Stoll, whose encouragement and support enabled us to make a difference. This article originally appeared in the Chicago Tribune.

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Challenges of a Young Palestinian Clinician during the Second Intifada Roney Srour

This chapter is about my personal experiences while completing my training as a clinician during the second Intifada and the effects of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict on my professional development. In that regard, it is also about my being Palestinian and learning Western methods and techniques of therapy and my journey toward integrating my approach to life from my native cultural point of view with this new Western orientation and resolving conflicts of identity that arise.

Dynamic Thinking in Western Society Individuals in Western culture experience themselves as independent and, therefore, place an emphasis on their individualism and self-determination. In contrast, individuals in Eastern culture (which includes Arab culture) experience their self more as dependent or interdependent and emphasize the group as well as the group’s needs and rules over the personal. This fundamental difference has direct implications on the theory and practice of dynamic therapy. The analytic-dynamic theory in psychology, and its practices, emphasizes the individual’s needs, feelings, and internal conflicts, which are consistent with the orientation of Western society but foreign to Arab social habits and thinking. The majority of Arab society used to be 50 years ago rural or clanlike, such that human resources and security existed within the family circle. Most families were crowded into small homes with many children and live in physical conditions that did not allow for emotional or physical privacy. Personal needs were marginal to the family unit and extended family well-being, which are of primary concern. This lifestyle from the near past still has its emotional effects in the more modern lifestyle of the Palestinian society today.

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In addition, dynamic theory emphasizes words and the expression of emotions, the exploration of unconscious feelings that motivate behavior, and efforts to make the unconscious conscious to have more understanding and control over emotions and behavior. Western emphasis on emotions is les existing in Arab culture, which emphasizes the body and behavior more than in the West. A large portion of Arab clients who come for psychotherapy present with psychosomatic symptoms, which is evidence of how emotions are manifested through the body and not by words. In Arab tradition, the body has a central place in identity and relationships, evident in traditions such as family dignity, which hinges the family’s reputation on the purity of the woman’s body (a woman’s virginity is prized for marriage eligibility); masculinity and male status, which are based on the man’s clan and his own physical strength; blood relation, in which birth into families is seen as more important than other psychological relations such as marriages or adoption; and fighting and war style, which are not only recently familiar in Arab societies, specifically through suicide as another way to place the body in the center with the explosives around it, but also in Arab societies in general. As an example of the latter, when the Libyans fought against Italian colonialism, they threw themselves in front of the tanks not to bomb the tanks but to frighten the Italian solders with their assertiveness and bravery for they did not have stronger weapons than their bodies. As a result of these factors, a Western-style psychodynamic therapeutic approach is foreign to Arab Palestinian clients. Because of this contrast between Western psychoanalytic views that focus on the individual and the mind and Arabic approaches that focus on the society and the body, introducing such a Western approach to Arab clients can greatly challenge their personal thinking, behavior patterns, and views of society. Individuals rooted in traditional thinking can be challenged to consider more individualistic, psychodynamic points of view, confront modernism in contrast to traditionalism, and shift their emphasis from the collective to the individual and his or her well-being. The psychoanalytic perspective of psychodynamic theory considers an individual’s sexual as well as cognitive development, which can also be challenging for an Arab professional. Because individualistic psychodynamic thought is so foreign to Arab society, individuals will not attempt to utilize it to cope with difficult phenomena. Consequently, only a limited amount of literature deals with emotions as they relate to coping of Arab individuals and families. Therapy for any individual or family problems, as for many other problems in the Arab society, does not give consideration to emotions. This is true not only for the common Arab man on the street but also in academia and for Arab leaders. In stark contrast, the Israeli approach is much more consistent with the Western point of view, emphasizing personal issues and engaging in analysis of individual needs, emotions, and conflicts.

My Personal Place It is in this context that I found myself pursuing a career in clinical psychology, a field that emphasizes the exploration of the self. Although it contrasts to



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my Arabic cultural upbringing, I was drawn to the exploration of the deeper dynamics behind presenting problems and to the exploration of emotions as a way to solve problems. Having grown up with such a different perspective throughout my graduate studies toward a master’s degree in clinical psychology, however, I experienced myself as a so-called retard (meaning deficient) in my ability for emotional expressiveness when compared to my Jewish colleagues. It took a few years for me to fully understand how this difficulty is not only personal but also cultural, an observation shared among my Arab colleagues. Those of us who were studying clinical psychology all felt a sense of loneliness and were seen as bizarre as a result of our questions and thoughts that were not intrinsically synchronized with the dynamic approach. Because I began my studies from what I considered a weaker point, I embarked on a long process of emotional learning. This learning infused all the domains of my identity and demanded my questioning personal and cultural norms. As a result of this process, my Palestinian Arab identity turned from national identity into an emotional one as well. I felt as an Arab, yet one who copes with his feelings as a Western person. When the second intifada began in October 2000, I could not take an active role. I found myself in a position of great internal conflict; I felt and empathized with the ongoing pain of my people, with whom I identified. On the other hand, the Western parts of my personality that were developing as a result of my studies did not allow me to express my anger by means of violence and left me needing to talk about that with my Israeli friends. Although in the Israeli newspapers we read about emotions like anxiety and disappointment, no references were made to emotions in the Arab papers. My people defended themselves through historical and legal facts but did not have skills to explain their acts on an emotional level. They presented no emotional authenticity; I saw my people as mute, unable to speak honestly about their position neither with the West nor with Israelis. Hence, I decided to become a mouth and to express my people’s emotions. My people were traumatized for more than 50 years without processing their trauma, making me understand, as a clinician, that I could not expect them to talk about feelings because they have no trust in the world anymore. But I came to decide that such talk was necessary. As a result, I worked with my clients from a perspective that was new for them as well as for me. The following descriptions are taken from my daily observations in Jerusalem as well as clinical information from therapy sessions I conducted with patients from this new, more Western perspective.

The Palestinians’ Emotional State (in the West Bank) In addition to the military and economic war ongoing against Palestinians in the region, a long-standing emotional war has been fought through fear and out of humiliation and distrust. Palestinian people have no confidence that they will have food or be able to go to work in any specific day, and fear being injured by solders. Instead of being able to seek quality of life, my people—the Palestinians—seek survival. As evidence of this, few cultural, artistic, or literary activities exist, and schools and uni-

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versities have been closed by the Israeli army with little opposition. As a result, it is feared that when the conflict is over, Palestinians will be mentally, emotionally, and intellectually lagging behind their Israeli neighbors. As a result of this gap, Palestinians may hate—or ­idealize—Israelis that much more, feelings that will only strengthen the dichotomy between who has control and who is controlled.

Safety Consider these cases. A colleague tells me about having flashbacks (similar to post-traumatic stress disorder) and feelings of terror when seeing Israeli solders, and I determine that it is related to an incident she witnessed many years ago. In another case, I discover that “Ahmad,” a four-year-old boy whose parents brought him for therapy complaining that he does not speak, did speak until the intifada, when he witnessed his brother get shot. Using play-therapy techniques—in which the therapist observes and interprets the child’s play with toys as reflecting issues in real life—the boy’s play showed that he was pretending that solders were shooting and treating the injured. After a while, Ahmad resumed talking, though not clearly. The boy’s parents also told how every time they come to the clinic, they have problems getting through the roadblocks established by the Israeli Army. When that happens, Ahmad becomes silent and asks to be picked up in their arms. One day, a solder started shooting to scare Ahmad, and when he arrived at the clinic, he ran under the stairs and asked me to join him. Then he brought out the plastic solders and began to crush them with a big stone. From my clinical perspective, I can explain several of these behaviors as displacement of helplessness and humiliation toward a more legitimate symbol of the aggressor. In other cases, people displace their feelings by becoming violent in their homes, in school, or on the streets.

The Impact of Lack of Routine Palestinians do not have confidence in routine because routine does not exist. They may be awakened during the night, unable to go to work, or unable to return home because of an Israeli Army–imposed curfew. This unstable reality of no control over one’s life is causing lasting stress and narcissistic injury to the individual and to the society as a whole. Without basic trust in oneself, others, and the environment, it is normal to withdraw, to protect oneself from any hurt. For all these reasons, people in the West Bank keep distance from each other, are more focused on their family and themselves, and are less willing to help others. People also betray one another’s trust more; for example, by handing over friends and family members who are resistors sought by the Israeli authorities.

The Impact on Identity Another phenomenon I observe in my clinical work with Palestinian children is related to confusion in the Palestinian ­identity. Palestinian children often de-



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scribe their wish to be soldiers or police officers. From my new, integrated Western and Eastern clinical perspective, I can analyze the deeper issues intrinsic in this wish: that it reflects their search for a sense of security and strength as well as by psychodynamics known as “identification with the aggressor.” This dynamic explains how a person who feels victimized by someone eventually takes on the role of the victimizer to neutralize their pain from the aggression and to fortify themselves with the strength they attribute to the more powerful being. They have no intention to hurt Palestinians but neither do they want to identify with losers.

Impact of Sociosecurity Status Some Palestinian families, in truth, would prefer to relocate from the West Bank, under Palestinian authority, to areas under Israeli authority because of social advantages such relocation would allow. These advantages include health insurance, social security, and welfare as well as ensuring a safer environment. Moreover, those in Israeli territory are not allowed to assist those in the West Bank, which causes tension, jealousy, and hatred between those Palestinians who “saved” themselves (by living in the Israeli territory) and those left in the West Bank (i.e., under worse conditions). Adding another psychological dynamic, those living in Jerusalem, although seen as more privileged, are also seen as disloyal, which sets up another conflict in identity.

The Impact on Fatherhood The hard security and economic situation makes it difficult for the Palestinian father to carry out his traditional and important role: provider and protector of his family. This puts extreme pressure on the father and can cause deeper emotional states of frustration and anger. An unhealthy cycle ensues, whereby both the father and the child feel frustrated, angry, or fearful but cannot express any of this directly, which causes the feelings to escalate. Because the father in traditional Palestinian society is meant to be feared—and therefore obeyed—by the child, soldiers, as another symbol of authority, become a more prominent symbol of fear. In this way, fearful objects of authority are multiplied for children, with the result that they feel increasingly less protected.

The Impact of Death and Loss Death has become all too common in the life of Palestinians; in the face of massive losses, coping can cease to become emotional, as if to save emotional energy and use denial as a defense against fears and high odds of failure to survive. Although women and others may cry over the dead, men are expected to be stoic; such avoidance of acknowledging deeper sources of pain and suffering can lead to other emotional conflicts and behavioral problems not directly connected to the events and, therefore, not dealt with in a way that can truly solve them.

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In the context of dynamic interpretation, suicide bombers, the shahid, can be seen as people who feel helpless, depressed, and passive in the face of constant humiliation. They decide to let their body express their suffering, and by that they are convinced that they save their dignity and self-esteem as well as that of their family. By committing such an act that incites fear, they can be seen as unconsciously acting out their own feelings of fear. The act further saves the self from the fear of death by promising salvation for the family and an appealing aftermath of virgins and other riches, which creates a sense in the individual of rapture in the continuity of their life. The act of suicide bombing kills the body but saves the self by avoiding feelings of helplessness. This interpretation cannot be scientifically proved but is accepted analysis in professional circles. In acting out, one does not deal directly with emotions but behaves in a way consistent with these emotions, even if that behavior is destructive to the self or others. In this process, the individual devises a rationalization, or seemingly rational explanation, of their act that does not acknowledge these deeper psychological underpinnings.

Postscript My interest in the deeper dynamics of the individual as they affect individual, interpersonal, and societal attitudes and behavior has led me down a path that is a challenge—as well as an opening—of my traditional Eastern thought and my Palestinian identity. To this end, I have integrated the traditions of my cultural background with a vastly different Western point of view in my studies as well as in my practice as a professional clinical psychologist. This has led to valuable insights into the conflicts of my Palestinian people and to the potential issues behind the Palestinian-Israeli conflict. Most rewarding is that such integration has been helpful to me in my work with my Palestinian clients in efforts to help them become healthier people.

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Healing the Wounds of War in Gaza and Israel: A Mind-Body Approach James S. Gordon

The e-mail arrived almost four years ago. “We’re highly skilled mental health professionals, and experienced at working with individuals who have been psychologically traumatized. And we are overwhelmed by the current situation, particularly by the numbers of children traumatized by terror bombings. We’ve read about your model and the work you’ve done in Kosovo. We believe it may offer a way for us to reach far larger numbers of people more effectively. Would you consider coming here to train us?” The e-mail was from Naomi Baum, a psychologist at the Israel Center for Psychotrauma in Jerusalem. This was the beginning of an ongoing and growing partnership of my colleagues and my commitment to training health and mental health professionals in Israel and Gaza. We begin by helping the leaders in health and mental health to deal with the psychological trauma that conflict and its destruction have brought to them—and then teach them to integrate our approach into their work with the entire population. Our model is based on the principle that for professionals to heal the wounds of war they need to first work on themselves. It includes psychological selfexpression and self-care; mind-body medicine (meditation, guided imagery, biofeedback, yoga, etc.); and meditative small group support. It is grounded in science that demonstrates the efficiency of this approach in reducing stress, and improving mood, in 10 years of experience with using it internationally with traumatized kids and families, ex-prisoners and ex-soldiers as well as domestically with people with chronic disease, medical school faculty, and students. We developed our model at the Center for Mind-Body Medicine, headquartered in Washington, D.C. Our faculty now has trained some 1,500 U.S. clini-

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cians and administrators. Overseas we have worked in Bosnia, Macedonia, Kosovo, and, most recently, Israel and Gaza. It was reports of the success of our model in Kosovo that prompted both Israelis and Palestinians to contact us. This chapter includes excerpts from the diary that I kept throughout the time of our training in Israel and Gaza.

The Initial Training in Israel When we first meet, I find Naomi—the psychologist who had first sent me the email—to be energetic, intelligent, optimistic, tough minded, and generous. I am equally impressed with her colleagues. They describe their work with psychodynamic and cognitive psychotherapy, the network that links trauma professionals from Israel’s leading mental health organizations, their research, and most of all, gaps in services for kids and families and needs of professionals for training and support in dealing with their own as well as their patients’ often debilitating stress. Evidence underlined Naomi’s concerns.1 One study showed that half the Israeli population had experienced or witnessed a terrorist attack or had close friends or family who had. Two-thirds of all Israelis felt their lives were in danger, and more than two-thirds feared for their family’s lives.2 In another study of communities where Palestinian attacks had occurred, 23 percent of the population had symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)—high levels of anxiety and irritability, nightmares and flashbacks of traumatic events, withdrawal from daily activities and personal contacts that reminded them of previous trauma. Since the beginning of the second Intifada in 2000, violence in Israeli schools had shot out of control—it was now as high as anywhere in the world.3 Our model, which combines self expression (through words, drawings, and movement), mind-body approaches (guided imagery, meditation, biofeedback, yoga etc.), and meditative, respectful group support, made sense to them. So, too, did the research demonstrating the effectiveness of our approach: The pilot study showing our work decreasing the level of symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder from 88 percent to 38 percent, and unpublished data on the decreases in stress and anger, and improvement in mood of Kosovar professionals we’d trained.4 The Israelis also resonated with my explanation of how this approach directly addresses PTSD symptoms—breathing and movement bring relaxation where there’d been agitation; meditation helps people suffering with nightmares and flashbacks to gain perspective on these experiences; a warm, safe, nonjudgmental, group model makes it possible for withdrawn people to reconnect with and trust others. Most therapy focuses on dysfunction and disability, while our approach emphasizes strengths, maximizes each person’s capacity for self-care, and encourages group support.

Getting Started It took two years to raise the money to cover the costs of bringing our faculty to Israel and housing the Israeli trainees from across the country. Meanwhile, we had



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identified team leaders, including Hadassah Hospital clinical psychologist Rhonda Adessky, who was treating survivors of terrorist attacks and other trauma, and administrator Yossi Israeli. In July 2004, we went to do the training with our team: five U.S. faculty (physicians and mental health professionals); Margaret, our project manager, who has worked with me for five years; and Dan, a bright, highly organized administrator from the U.S. National Center for Mass Fatalities. With very little urging and no publicity, 120 professionals applied, including psychiatrists who head up hospitals, psychologists who lead community clinics, faculty from university departments, some of the country’s most-gifted clinicians and researchers, and 12 school psychologists and counselors. We could only accept 66, because of funding limitations.

The Training Begins The training was held in July 2004, at Shoresh, a former kibbutz, and now a hotel and retreat center, in the hills just outside Jerusalem. From the porches of our cabins we can see across a tilled valley to the distant hillside. Clumps of redtiled Jewish houses are separated by rocks and ridges from flat-topped Arab communities. Just down the hill is Abu Ghosh, an Arab town with a restaurant widely frequented by both Jews and Muslims. On the first morning, the participants bustle outside the lecture hall, filling out our questionnaires, greeting each other, drinking coffee, and talking on cell phones (“We have to be prepared for anything at any moment,” one explains). We introduce ourselves and I describe the new model of medicine and of mental health that we’ve been creating, in which self-care is central to the therapeutic process and prevention of illness. I explain the process: several hours of lectures each day, and one or two small groups daily, led by our faculty. Each participant will learn and practice the techniques, and then share their experiences. Confidentiality is expected: what’s said in the group, stays in the group. I explain that the groups are meditative. We breathe deeply, relax, and become aware of our own thoughts and feelings as others speak. We listen to their experience and notice our responses. We don’t analyze or interpret each other’s words, images, drawings, or experiences. We let each person discover his or her own meaning. The techniques we teach enhance the production of hormones like serotonin that improve mood and decrease cortisol levels that may, when chronically elevated, contribute to depression, anxiety, heart disease, and immune system depletion. Every day begins and ends with a simple deep breathing exercise we call “soft belly.” “Sit comfortably,” I say. “Breathe deeply, in through your nose and out through your mouth and relax your belly as you do so. Let your eyes close. Allow your belly to be soft,” I go on. “If the belly is soft, that means you’re breathing into the bottom of the lungs. The exchange of oxygen is better and the body relaxes more easily. If the muscles in your belly are soft, all the other muscles begin to relax. To encourage this process,” I continue, “you can say to yourself ‘soft’ as you breathe in and ‘belly’

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as you breathe out. If thoughts come, let them come, let them go. Gently bring your mind back to soft belly. Your cell phones, your patients, and the crisis of your country will always be there. Give yourself a chance to relax now and during these days.” We continue for perhaps 10 minutes. The room grows still. I watch bellies rise and fall, see tension leaving shoulders and arms. The soft belly breathing, and the relaxation it brings, is a microcosm of the mindbody approach. Such breathing is central to relaxation. Soft belly is also a concentrative meditation: You focus on the breath and the words “soft” and “belly.” And it is a guided imagery too, using the image of a soft belly to create a physiological response and psychological change. By the end of the morning, the participants appear more relaxed in their seats, have fewer purely academic questions, and are talking less on cell phones.

First Small Group The training consists of six days of morning and afternoon sessions, with large group lectures and eight two-hour small groups, where participants practice exercises and share experiences. We divide into groups of 10 or 11 participants and one faculty member. My group includes two psychiatrists, a family physician, a movement therapist, several psychologists and social workers, and a Rabbi who runs a large program for the ultra-Orthodox in Jerusalem. Eleven are Jewish and one is a Muslim Arab. The next exercise is to do drawings of “Yourself,” “Your Biggest Problem,” and “The Solution to Your Problem.” The participants have the usual initial resistance, “I can’t draw,” “Nothing comes to me,” “This is for kids,” but settle into the task. Then each shows and explains his or her drawing. Similar images and common themes appear. For “The Biggest Problem,” Rachel (where I use only first names, they—and other details—have been changed to protect confidentiality), one of Israel’s leading trauma psychologists has drawn a tree overburdened with ripe fruit, and explains, “Too many to pick, too many people to help.” Moshe, a gifted and innovative clinician drew “a fire burning wildly out of control—talk about emotions run wild.” They share how much they want to give, how much they do give, and how burdened they are by the seemingly neverending need—and the guilt and shame of not doing more. They all feel as overwhelmed as Rachel’s tree, unable to meet needs that are as out of control as Moshe’s fire. Ahmed, the Arab psychologist, laughs at his picture, which shows a tiny figure pulling a large wagon, “I’m just like my Jewish colleagues.” There are also several pictures of endangered children, young ones traveling on buses or sitting in malls—indicating settings that are commonly the site of suicide bomb attacks. “How do you protect yourselves?” Leah, a psychotherapist, asks. “One of my patients lost his wife and three children. Sixty-five percent of the bombings have been in Jerusalem, where I live.”



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The Training Continues The next lecture elaborates on the “fight or flight” and stress responses— ever-present during the stressful conflict between the Israelis and the Palestinians. When faced with stress, this reaction is triggered by the sympathetic nervous system—the stimulating half of the body’s autonomic nervous system. Blood pressure goes up, heart and respiratory rate increase, and muscles tense, in preparation for combat or for escape. Also, the pupils of the eyes dilate and the hands and feet become cold. Slow deep breathing, by contrast, invokes the parasympathetic, or relaxing part of the autonomic nervous system. Biofeedback—using body responses like temperature as a measure of stress— is provided by simple tools: A thermister attached to the index finger provides digital readouts of skin temperature, and a far less expensive “Biodot” affixed to the hand and changes color with temperature. With relaxation (using the soft belly exercise, and repeating “autogenic”—self generated—phrases that suggest that our hands and legs are warm and our heart rate is regular), the temperature in the skin rises, the reading on the thermister goes up, and the Biodot changes from brown or yellow to warmer colors like green, blue, and purple. “It’s a wonderful game,” Avi, a psychiatrist who heads a children’s’ hospital, says with a broad grin, as he asks for more Biodots for his children. The next exercise is the “Wise Guide.” Using words and music, I describe a journey to an imaginary safe place of their own creation. I say, “Look around, notice where you are. What are you wearing? What do you see and feel? Then I ask them to imagine a guide appearing—a wise old man or woman, animal, or creature out of mythology, who is symbolic of their intuition and wisdom. Ask that entity a question about how to deal with an overwhelming situation,” I say. “And listen for the answer.” The group imagines a variety of Biblical figures, animals, living and deceased family members. Avi says, “I saw my grandfather who died many years ago. He was a very good and gentle man. He tells me I can’t relieve all the suffering around me that I have to stop thinking I have the answers ‘Admit you don’t know,’ he says. ‘Your patients come to you, not because they see the diplomas on your wall, but because they see your heart.’” In another exercise, we construct genograms—maps of four generations of family history. Men are represented by squares on the page, women by circles; horizontal lines connect spouses and siblings, vertical ones link one generation to the next. Genograms, which are often used to trace patterns of illness, can also be pictures of where we came from, who we are, and the world we live in; of enduring strengths as well as weaknesses and vulnerabilities in the family; of people we look to for guidance when we’re most desperate; of larger concerns— ­cultural and historical—that impinge on generation after generation. Almost everyone has drawn people suffering violent death—in this generation or earlier ones—a stark contrast with drawings of people in the United States but similar to those in Bosnia, Kosovo, and Gaza. They share stories of greatgrandparents and grandparents killed in pogroms in Russia, missing in the Ho-

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locaust in Europe, and family members who lost lives and years in prisons in Lebanon and Cyprus. “Generations of trauma,” observes Moshe, whose grandparents died in Auschwitz. Some see for the first time the connection between their families’ history of pain and the work they have embraced. Moshe, whose family history is marked by people who disappeared in the fires of the crematorium, is now working with family members of bus bombing victims as they reclaim the remains of those they’d lost. He smiles with recognition at the symmetry between his patients’ healing and his own. In the last two groups, we sum up what we learned, and brainstorm next steps, personal and professional. Rachel says she feels “Sorrow and longing and so many people to care for and no time for ourselves. And now, at the end of this training, for the first time, as I look at myself in the mirror, I say to myself, ‘I need to take care of myself. I need to be here.’ If I don’t take care of this lady in the mirror, how can I help anyone else?” Sharon, a psychoanalytically trained psychologist observes that “the approach we’ve been using up to this point is not very efficient for this situation. Therapy is fine for one or two children in the school, but when one kid’s brother has been killed in a terrorist attack and half the class is getting in fights and wetting their beds at night, there is no way that individual therapy can meet the need. I think this may be an answer.” “The biggest problem,” Leah tells me, “that we have, is not with the Palestinians but with each other.” “Between left and right?” I ask. “Well, that too, but even more between Orthodox and secular,” she says. “This is the very first time, even though I work with them every day, that I’ve had an intimate conversation with religious people, that I’ve really come to know them. And, of course,” she says looking at, nodding to, Ahmed, “that goes double with Israeli Arabs.” “We are,” Ahmed observes, “very much alike: the burdens we carry of others’ needs and our guilt and worry for our kids; our crazy ­history and our crazy parents; our sense that we can never do or be enough; our fear that things will never change. All are very similar.” Everyone nods.

The Advanced Training Six months later, in January 2005, we hold an advanced training to teach our Israeli colleagues to lead the same kinds of groups in which they’ve previously participated Three quarters of the participants in the Initial training come back. The ratings on the evaluation forms that recorded symptoms and feelings about the Initial Training, show that the participants feel “less stressed,” “more energized,” “less aggressive,” and that they now will work more confidently and efficiently with Israel’s traumatized population. They’re also feeling more hope for their own, and their country’s, future. The numbers are statistically significant.



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The trainees report that while they feel better, the situation around them has gotten worse; 2 of the 10 in my group report losses in terrorist attacks of people close to them. One’s daughter’s best friend was killed by a rocket in the town of Sederot, near Gaza. Another has a close friend who died in a bus bombing not far from Tel Aviv. Worry about children has increased. This is true for Israeli Arabs, too, as Machmoud, an Israeli Arab new to my group, observes. In the last session of the Advanced Training, we do another set of drawings. “Draw yourself now,” “Draw how you’d like to be,” and “Draw how you’re going to get there.” Machmoud holds up his pictures: “Here’s how I’m going to do what I want. This is a picture of me and my colleagues, Jews as well as Arabs. I can’t do it by myself. My power, my intelligence is not enough.” Rebecca, an Orthodox woman, who’s one of Israel’s leading school psychologists, points to her third drawing. It’s a large tree with smaller ones surrounding it. “Shoresh, means roots,” she says. “Here I am in this place sinking down my roots. And here, these little trees, are all the rest of you, and your roots are coming toward mine, underneath the earth, just as we are coming close to each other above it.”

The Leadership Training Later, in December 2005, we meet again to “train the trainers,” to teach a selected group of Israeli colleagues to lead trainings and workshops for their peers and patients. The participants each demonstrate how they have applied our work. Ruth, a nurse, describes how she adapted the breathing exercises. “My colleague put her hands on the belly of a patient with grave physical injuries—wounded in a terror attack—who was sustained by a ventilator. She taught him soft belly breathing. His body, which was straining so desperately, relaxed.” A few minutes later, she sat with his distraught family and taught them this same technique.

The Gaza Training Going into Palestinian Gaza in summer 2005, we enter an open-air prison. IDF (Israeli Defense Force) soldiers guard the Erez crossing at the north end of the strip. Some are kind, interested, and supportive when we tell them we’ve come to help Palestinians and Israelis deal with the emotional suffering that war brings. Some are curt and a few seem hostile: “Why go there, to be with them?” All are achingly young. They pour over our identification papers and passes, check names against lists, and rummage through our suitcases. We move ahead. Metal doors click and clang. Comments from loudspeakers punctuate our passage through a two–hundred-yard-long metal shed, surveillance cameras record it. Our team consists of six group leaders from the United States—doctors, psychologists, and social workers—and two psychiatrists, Zana and Afrim, from Kosovo who have worked with me before. We also have interpreters (one of whom translated for Arafat and Mubarak), and a film crew. All the training materials have been translated into Arabic.

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The Program Begins The training begins on Saturday, in the hotel ballroom. Ninety participants have been selected by our Palestinian coordinator, Issa. Leaders in health and mental health from all the major organizations and some smaller ones, including the Palestinian Ministries of Health, Social Welfare and Education; the Gaza Community Mental Health Programme; U.N. agencies; universities; the Red Crescent; and grass-roots nongovernmental organizations. They include the head of a large primary care organization in Gaza; psychologists who run departments at universities and hospitals; a surgeon who is a community leader; a promising young psychiatrist. Sixty more had wanted to come. Two-thirds of these participants are men. All are overwhelmed by the breadth and depth of the suffering around them. They want and need help. The techniques we use—meditation and drawings, written exercises, guided imagery, biofeedback and movement—are unfamiliar to them. But the idea of self-care, and of a new and more effective model of working with groups of people traumatized by war is very appealing. Still, there is wariness alongside interest, as they greet one another, fill out our research forms, and drink coffee. Who are these ­Americans? What are they doing in this place that the world largely avoids? Are these techniques compatible with the religious practice and social norms of our culture? Can we learn them? Can we use them here? The participants are divided into eight small groups. The two female psychologists in my group, Nadia and Khadija, wear hijabs (headscarves), sit together, and speak rather softly. The nine men, ranging in age from early thirties to late sixties, raise and lower their voices in questions and responses, mini-lectures, asides, and many jokes. We go around the circle, with each person introducing him or herself, and explaining why they are there. Some reasons given: To learn new approaches to deal with the overwhelming trauma that kids in their communities experience; to develop new curricula for graduate students; to deal with the staff burnout that threatens all their programs. We teach the soft belly exercise and explain about the fight or flight response, as we have in Israel. They also do the three drawings: “Yourself,” “Yourself with Your Biggest Problem,” and “Yourself with Your Problem Solved.” Ali, a surgeon, points to his first drawing, “standing alone and confused.” The second drawing shows his four children with an Israeli soldier pointing his gun at them. “Personally, I can protect myself, but my children are in danger,” he says. “I live near an Israeli settlement, and every day when I leave the house, I worry that something will happen to my children before I come home. Two years ago, my house was bombed.” In the final picture—the one with the “problem solved”—he is playing with his children. The occupation is over, the Israeli soldiers have gone home. “I’m thankful to God,” he concludes. Several others hold up similar pictures they’ve drawn of endangered children. “This is our biggest concern,” Issa says. Everyone worries about their children,



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not only on rare occasions when they may be allowed to leave Gaza, but “every morning when we leave for the hospital or clinic.” There are more endangered children in the other “Biggest Problem” drawings, and also bold lines in red or black, dividing the person in the drawing, as the artists explain, from the outside world; from family members dispersed in other countries and unable to travel; from homes bombed during the last four years of the Intifada. “The wall is inside us, also,” notes psychologist Ismail. “It’s a wall of fear and of suspicion, a wall against the anger that cannot be expressed, the sadness and the fear that may disturb our family, the wall that stops us from even hoping for a safe, secure future.” Salim, a family physician in charge of a large department, describes the dozens of small anonymous stick figures around his larger, bewildered-looking figure: “These refugees have so many ­ problems—material, emotional, spiritual. I cannot give more than I am, and I feel so helpless.” Nadia, who drew a mountain with a figure inside, explains, “Before the Intifada, we used to have a good economic situation. During the Intifada, my husband has been in jail, and then unemployed. And now, I’m carrying the financial burden myself—the money is too little. I’m inside a mountain, I’m atop a volcano that’s about to erupt.” That afternoon, Jerrol, a nurse on our faculty, gives a lecture on guided imagery—the use of mental images to affect physiological functioning. It can be used to prepare for painful medical procedures, enhance physiological functioning like the immune response, and explore answers to personal concerns. We do the soft belly exercise first, to relax, and then guide the group members in the “Safe Place” and “Wise Guide” images. The group members all find places where they are comfortable—in backyards, on beaches or in homes occupied by Israelis but returned in their imagination—for a few moments, far from fear that fills their days. Many imagine their fathers, their small children, or other figures from the past or present giving them guidance that often resembles what they’re learning in this training: “Share feelings,” “Pray,” “Appreciate the sun during the day, and the moon at night.” The group ends quietly. We stand silent, breathing together.

Day 3—Expressive Meditation This day—and all others—begins at 6:30 a.m. with yoga taught by John, a family physician from Kentucky. The practice is unfamiliar to all the participants, but warmly welcomed. As Ali says, “We forget about our bodies.” John pronounces at breakfast that the 35 participants who came were the most enthusiastic group he’s ever seen. The morning’s exercise is an “expressive” large group meditation that begins with shaking and concludes with dancing. Expressive meditations are the oldest kinds of meditation, used by witch doctors and shamans whose heirs we modern healers are. We shake first—to shake up fixed thoughts and the emotions, the feelings that keep us stuck in the patterns that we call depression, anxiety and chronic

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illness. After we shake, we let our bodies move to music, each in our own unique way. “It’s not about doing a particular dance,” I say. “Let yourself be moved. Let your body, loosened up by the shaking, move whatever way it wants. Each of you is unique, each dance will be your own. Keep your eyes closed. It’s only for you.” There are a few skeptical glances and some kidding around, but everybody laughs when I demonstrate the proper bent-kneed shaking stance, eyes closed so as not to be preoccupied with others’ performance or being judged. I’ve done this shaking and dancing a thousand times before, at hospital lectures and in medical school classes, in tents in refugee camps in Macedonia, with U.N. soldiers and Israeli psychologists, in freezing school rooms in Kosovo. It is strange or seems silly to most people, who initially hesitate. But after a while, almost everybody enjoys it, even Orthodox Jews and religious Muslims, who must dance with the genders separated. Despite my fears about its reception in Gaza, where there is much public pressure for religious orthodoxy, the shaking goes very well. Everyone keeps their eyes closed. Some younger psychologists shuffle around, pointing at each other and laughing, but still they do it. Afterwards an important discussion takes place. One participant says, “It was very relaxing, and I much enjoyed it, both the shaking and the dancing. I feel younger, easier,” “The shaking,” another adds, “is something new and something old too, very much like our Sufi tradition.” A few participants say that the exercise may be disturbing to the very religious and the militant who resent all secular guidance. “The younger generation,” Ali explains, “has lived only under the occupation: They’ve been taught only one way. They’ve never had a chance to be in the wider world. The children are used by the political parties in the Intifada. Now they think they’re generals, they’re violent in the schools. We can’t control them.”

Day 4—Bringing Up More Feelings This lecture is about breathing and exercise. I discuss the central role of breath in mind-body approaches as well as in spiritual practice in Hinduism and Buddhism and also in monotheistic religions, including Islam. Physical exercise, I go on, can raise neurotransmitters like serotonin and norepinephrine at which antidepressants are directed, and lower the high levels of cortisol and blood sugar which may be emblematic of high stress. We do another, active, two-stage meditation. This one requires very fast, deep, “chaotic breathing”—in and out through the nose, with arms pumping up and down like a bellows, to increase the lung capacity. It is followed by free-style movement and dance. Again there is an air of anticipation, and apprehension. This exercise, which I learned 40 years ago, is particularly powerful for those whose bodies have been frozen in depressed immobility, whose emotions have been suppressed after profound trauma: rape, physical injury, seeing family members’ murdered. It helps them express what they’ve kept down and facilitates later, heartfelt sharing in the small groups. It’s also, of course, unfamiliar and seems strange.



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The music begins and everyone is pumping arms earnestly and breathing deeply. I urge them on—“faster and deeper, faster and deeper”—and most respond, feeling urgency to bring feelings to the surface, to push beyond the walls they’ve put up in themselves, to do the exercise strongly and successfully. After six or eight minutes I shout, “Stop!” In the second part of the exercise, they move freely, swaying or dancing, to traditional Arabic music, without words. Afterwards, Ismail says the experience reminds him of “Zikhr,” a traditional Muslim form of moving meditation. “It brings, after the breathing, a feeling of great joy that I have forgotten.” Khadiya says, “I’ll do this with the children and the women who have suffered violence. They’ll enjoy it.” Several participants have already been sharing what they’ve learned in the training with family members and friends. Ibrahim, a middle-aged psychiatrist who works in an emergency room, taught the soft belly technique to a suicidal man during a midnight shift. The women have been showing their husbands and children the yoga postures they learned, the soft belly breathing, and the biodots that we’ve given them that change color with the warmth that comes into tension-cold hands after relaxation. In the small group, we do a written technique, “Dialogue with a Symptom,” which resembles an exercise from Gestalt Therapy and psychodrama. You imagine your symptom, problem or issue sitting opposite you in a chair, and talk to it. The dialogue goes back and forth swiftly, without conscious thought or censorship, so words come from the unconscious, not the conscious mind. Gradually—whether in a Georgetown classroom, a cancer retreat or a refugee camp—the personified problem or issue begins to inform the person who is suffering from it. Ibrahim says, “My chest is telling me I must breathe more deeply, relax more fully, my heart as well my mind. ‘Take deep breaths,’ It’s saying, ‘stop smoking. Go to sleep early. Understand yourself. Realize who you are. Identify your feelings. Read the Quran to find the forgiveness that will heal your rage.’”

Day 5—The Effects of Trauma We discuss the effects of prolonged psychological trauma on our physiology and anatomy: persistent high levels of cortisol, altered brain functioning, cells in the hippocampus (a part of the brain connected to both emotions and memory) destroyed. We speculate about the possibility of reversing these disintegrating and destructive changes by the techniques we teach, and the way we use them. In our groups, emotional pain that’s been denied can be expressed, shared, and even dissipated. Terrifying images of death and destruction can be attenuated slowly by meditation and guided imagery. Using meditation and movement together, promoting awareness as well as expression, linking intellectual understanding to emotional experience, working in the safety of the small group: All this promotes reintegration of functions that have been disrupted; growth and change become possible.

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The small group today is more reflective. Participants focus on their own shortcomings and confusion and hopes, more than the wrongs done to them. The comments range from the tragicomic—“When Palestinians shoot at Israelis, we never hit anyone, but when we shoot at each other, there are many killed and injured”— to the practical—“There are people working in mental health who are unqualified, unsupervised, and there’s not cooperation among physicians, psychologists, social workers, nurses, teachers. We need to come together now—maybe with your help—to work together, to construct an organization of all mental health professionals.” Ali says, “We need a new leadership. Conspiracy and doubt forged the character of the old leaders. We need a shift, a shift within us as well as in the Israelis. We, as people concerned with mental health, need to diagnose what’s wrong with us, and to find solutions. Not just to talk—there’s too much emotional diarrhea among us Palestinians, everybody talks. We have to, at this new stage of the Israeli pullout, prevent our society from dividing because of self-interest.” They are also allowing themselves to feel what they’ve put behind those dark lines of separation, the walls, they drew in the first session. Ismail says, “Sometimes I debrief 50 people who have witnessed killings. This is the first time I’ve allowed myself to cry.” To the men’s surprise, the women speak, clearly, without embarrassment, and in full sight and hearing of all of us. “I’m always anxious when I leave the house because my husband often mistreats my children,” Nadia confides. “He was in an Israeli prison for three years and since then he has no job.” “The secret behind this week of experience,” Ismail concludes, “is the simplicity of the techniques, the ease of sharing in the group. We can teach all people to apply them, so they will be even more important after the pullout.”

Last Day It’s time for summing up and closure. “We look down at other people,” Ali observes, “fear new ideas, regard the Israelis with contempt; this kind of judgment doesn’t help. Whoever is humble before God, the Quran says, God will raise him. It’s time for us to learn humility.” “I believe even more now in the possibility of different ideas helping us,” adds Ismail. “I do need to deepen my knowledge of other traditions. We need to shift from fighting Israelis to dealing with our own issues, from judgment of the mind to the truth of the heart; from separation to unity.” We do the final set of three drawings: “Where are you now?”; “Where would you like to be?”; “How will you get there?” Hassan, who at first wanted only to “observe,” had drawn a figure with a large head and a stiff body, with a noose pulled tight around his neck in his first drawing. Now he draws the figure representing him wearing a patchwork of lively colored clothes, with arms and legs in motion, and no head. We all laugh. We check in for the last time. “I’ll never forget you. You’ve changed my way of seeing; you’ll always be with me,” says Ismail. “What you’ve done for the first



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time,” adds Ibrahim, “was to give me a little peace and the experience that I and the situation, the struggle between Palestinians and Israelis, can change.” At our final supervision meeting, our staff and Issa, our Gaza coordinator, make a plan for the Advanced Training and Leadership Training.

Our Work Spreads in Israel Three years after that first e-mail from Naomi Baum, we’re giving our work legs—to make it sustainable everywhere in Israel. One participant is using the techniques with adolescents, who are enjoying the practicality of biofeedback and the playfulness of imagery, shaking and dancing, and the simple sharing. Our approach is now being taught in graduate courses in the universities, and to kids and teachers in schools. Others are using our techniques with emergency workers in the aftermath of terrorist bombings, and with bereaved family members and the injured to whom they tend. The level of fear and uncertainty has increased. In recent months, there are three major factors: (1) controversy over the protective fence the Israeli government is constructing which has decreased the number of terrorist attacks, but increased disagreement among Israelis; (2) uncertainty about the direction the country is taking and the polarization of left and right, secular and religious; and (3) contradictions between the democratic ideals to which the people adhere and the security state they’ve created. The work we’ve taught them is more necessary than ever. We plan to enlarge our work further, for example, with the Ministry of Education, with medical schools and universities, the IDF and displaced settlers, and even joint programs for Israelis and Palestinians. During a visit with our Israeli graduates, there is great eagerness to know what happened in the Gaza training. They listen with wonder to our stories about the training: “Oh, they did the shaking and dancing and the soft belly and the genograms.” And they appreciate the rich and complex humanity of their Palestinian colleagues, recognizing, acknowledging—some, it seems, for the first time—the similarity of the issues which Israelis and Palestinians face. And then there is a chorus of questions with a single melody: “When will we work together?”

Notes This chapter is condensed from “Gaza Diary” published in Alternative Therapies in Health and Medicine and the “Israel Update.” 1.  Bleich A., Gelkopf M., & Solomon Z. (2003, August). Exposure to terrorism, stressrelated mental health symptoms, and coping behaviors among a nationally representative sample in Israel. Journal of the American Medical Association, 290(5), 612–620. 2.  Shalev, A. Y., Tuval-Mashiach, R., & Hadar, H. (2004). Posttraumatic stress disorder as a result of mass trauma. Journal of Clinical Psychiatry, 65 (Suppl. 1), 4–10.

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3.  Naftali Halberstadt, PhD, verbal communication, American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee, Jerusalem. 4.  Gordon, J. S., Staples, J. K., Blyta, A., & Bytiqi, M. (2004, April). Treatment of posttraumatic stress disorder in Postwar Kosovo high school students using mind-body skills groups. Journal of Trauma Stress, 17(2), 143–147.

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Inshallah, Family, Gender Roles, and Other Issues Affecting Mental Health and Therapy for Palestinian Arab Israelis Alean Al-Krenawi and John R. Graham

A young woman has been referred by her physician for treatment relating to depression. She is accompanied by her husband and two brothers. Her husband recently lost his job, and her children have complained about feeling discriminated against by Israeli-majority children in her neighborhood. She is originally from the West Bank and has two siblings who live in the West Bank, one of whom was recently killed by an Israeli soldier. She has conveyed profound ambivalence about seeking treatment and is doing so only as a last resort because she perceives all informal community resources to have been exhausted. She is anxious that the treatment she receives not impair her community’s perception of her as a mother and wife; she worries that seeking treatment could be used as an excuse for her husband to remarry (either by divorcing her or entering into a polygamous marriage). In all instances, the husband and brothers have tried to reassure her that this will not happen. This case exemplifies the problems faced by Palestinian Arabs living in Israel and specific approaches to treatment that must be sensitive to the Arab culture. Sensitivity to such problems and appropriate treatment are even more important in current times, when the mental health of Palestinian Arabs is increasingly compromised by the difficulties imposed by the political and economic situation and increasing violence of the intifada (Khamaisi, 2002; Levallois, 2002). It is necessary to understand Arab culture, specific psychosocial factors that impact the mental health of Palestinian Arabs and their utilization of mental health services, and culturally appropriate methods of addressing these mental health issues. These factors not only affect the individual Palestinian Arab but create further tension between the Arab and Israeli populations, fueling the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and the current intifada. Sensitive, culturally appropriate therapy can help

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ameliorate these problems, making the approaches addressed in this chapter important, to reduce tensions within the community and between the two societies.

Understating the Context of Arab Society Use of diverse and loosely defined social groupings as Arab is fraught with dangers of reductionism and oversimplification yet can provide a helpful broad context in which to understand the particular subgroup of Palestinian Arab Israelis. This group is characterized by the fact that they live inside the state of Israel as opposed to within the Palestinian territories. Arab social structures tend to emphasize the collective over the individual, which can lead to a slower pace of societal change but a higher sense of social stability. Family relations— or kinship systems—are a key element to understand social and political behavior in the Arab Middle East because the basic unit of identification for the Arab individual tends to be the family and not the state, the ethnic group, or even job description. Kinship connections are an important source of power, influence, position, and security and dominate nearly every aspect of life and most social institutions, including religion and morality.

The Identity Crisis of Palestinian Arabs in Israel Prior to 1948, Arabs made up the majority of inhabitants of Palestine, but subsequent to the establishment of the state of Israel, 84 percent of the Palestinian population was exiled and became refugees (Kanaana, 1992). Those who were left became a minority. About a quarter of those who remained were displaced from their homes to other locations, thus becoming internal refugees (Arab Association for Human Rights, 2003; Wakim, 1994). Over time, a Zionist ideology precipitated the confiscation of land owned by the Israeli Arabs (Lustick, 1993), precipitating severe psychosocial and economic consequences. People lost their homes, livelihoods, and political power; families were displaced and separated; and communities were destroyed. Palestinian Arabs in Israel live under a military regime and feel socially excluded, leaving them in a conflict of dual identity as both Israeli and Palestinian. Although they live in the state of Israel, their identification has been shown to be more nationally and emotionally connected with being Palestinian and with the Palestinians in the Occupied Territories. A survey of 1,202 Palestinian Israelis showed a high level of identification by Arab Israelis with the intifada and the struggle of the Palestinian nation (Ganim & Smooha, 2001). Another survey shows a soaring rise in the percentage of Arab Israelis who identify as Palestinians, from 46.4 percent in 1996 to 74 percent in 2000, and a plummeting decline in the percentage that identify as Israelis, from 38.4 percent to 11 percent (Ben Meir, 2002). This identification is increased by the fact that many have relatives, family, and friends in the Occupied Territories and in other neighboring Arab countries.



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These Palestinians represent a minority within the state of Israel, constituting 19.4 percent, or 1.3 million, of the country’s total population of 6.7 million. The vast majority resides in all-Arab towns and villages located in three main areas: the Galilee in the north, the Little Triangle in the center, and the border that separates Israel from the occupied West Bank. The overwhelming majority (82%) of Arab Israeli Palestinians are Muslims, roughly 9 percent are Christian, and almost 9 percent belong to Druze, Circassian, or other groups (Nir, 2003). These Palestinian Arab Israelis are discriminated against in multiple respects. Huge gaps exist between them and the Jewish Israelis in quality of life; for example, more than 100 Palestinian Arab villages in Israel lack official government recognition, and more than 70,000 Palestinian Arab citizens live in villages threatened with destruction, prevented from development, and not shown on any map (Central Bureau of Statistics, 1998, Table 2.1). Other problems include high infant mortality rates, inferior medical services, and poor socioeconomic status; half of Arab households are in the country’s bottom income quintile, compared with 16 percent of Jewish Israeli households, and 45 percent of Israel’s Arab population live in poverty, compared with 15 percent of Jewish families (Association for the Advancement of Civic Equality, 2004). Despite achievements of Israel’s education system, Palestinian Arab education is inferior in terms of funding allocations (41 out of 50 localities receive the lowest local government allocation); number of pupils per class, academic achievement, drop-out rate (42 percent of Arab students dropped out in 1997, compared with 12 percent of Jewish students; Center for Bedouin Studies and Development, 1998; Israel State Comptroller and Ombudsman, 1997).

Psychosocial Factors Affecting Mental Health and Treatment Palestinians living in Israel have experienced multiple losses—of homeland, political autonomy, economic livelihood, and hope—as well as pressures in daily life from long exposure to curfews and social exclusion. Economic problems (e.g., high rates of unemployment, lack of jobs, undeveloped industrial areas) become a source of marital disputes when, for example, the husband cannot earn enough money to provide an appropriate home (separate from the extended family) or to pay for children’s schooling. Having to live with in-laws causes tension between spouses, especially if the wife is unhappy about being under the control of her husband’s parents. Feelings of worthlessness, helplessness, powerlessness, and being looked down upon, as well as sadness and fear resulting from the confluence of these inequalities, disturb the individual and the family and may plant the seed for resentment and anger toward their neighboring Israelis that inflames the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. The practice of polygamy may further complicate family relationships, leading at times to unequal distribution of household resources, jealousy, and com-

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petition between the wives. Polygamous marriage may be associated with depressive disorders, anxiety, somatization disorders, and low self-esteem. Research within various Arab countries has indicated a greater prevalence of mental disorders among women in polygamous marriages and a higher proportion of use of psychiatric inpatient as well as outpatient services.

Factors Affecting Mental Health and, Consequently, Mental Health Therapy with Palestinian Muslim Arab Israelis Several factors may influence mental health and mental health treatment, as described in the following sections.

Family Involvement The family’s involvement in every aspect of an individual’s life extends to mental health care. In some cases, the family will intervene on behalf of the identified patient, expecting much to be accomplished by the clinician, while simultaneously lacking trust. Family members might try to control the interview by answering questions directed to the client to withhold information that may be perceived as embarrassing. To those practiitioners not understanding the family’s cultural context, such involvement could easily be considered arrogant and insulting. Yet the family unit is sacred among Arabs who are raised to depend on it as a source of support. When a family member is sick, the restoration of health may be of concern to many other members. Codependency in Arab close family relations can cause psychological conflict when living in a country like more Westernized Israel where psychological health and maturity is built on the concept that the child’s task is to separate from the family emotionally. Additionally, marital problems may be mostly construed by Arabs as being a woman’s problem. To save pride, an unemployed husband who cannot pay the bills may still refuse to let his wife work. Husbands discouraged from chronic unemployment may retreat and leave the burden of finances to the wife or become abusive. Adolescent girls may suffer from family pressure. Because the cultural norm requires a woman to be a virgin at the time of marriage, adolescent girls are prone to conflict, guilt, and trouble over dating and sex, even leading to high rates of threat of suicide in that group. What might seem detrimental involvement, overprotection, or codependency on the part of the Arab family, to an outsider may well be highly appropriate actions in a culture in which any less involvement would be considered neglect, if not abandonment. The therapist must consider what would constitute intrusion concerning the privacy of the client and appropriate help based on the client’s expectations and not Western standards. The family must be engaged in the treatment process and be reassured that they are part of the care and treatment scheme. If the cultural gap is too



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wide, mediation between the client and the clinician through a member of the client’s cultural milieu is recommended, especially in hospital or clinic settings.

Gender Gender roles play a large part in an Arab society that is highly patriarchal. Male family members in a position of authority, such as a father, uncle, older brother, or any older male relative, have a big say in a person’s treatment. The father may have to be addressed first, as the head of the family, a fact the therapist should consider in treatment, because failure to do so, or attempt to change cultural power hierarchies or role patterns, will alienate the family and cause trouble for the patient. Using a male-female client-therapist dyad can present difficulties with Arab patients, given that the opposite sexes would not be comfortable discussing intimacies with each other. Muslim Arab men may have particular difficulty accepting a female therapist’s authority or directions. If a positive connection is established between an opposite-sex patient and therapist, the client may become attached, leading to confusion and conflict. The client should be educated about this attachment and transference and reassured that safe distance and professional standards will be honored. A male practitioner in a male-female dyad seeing a female client could use culturally appropriate techniques, as referring to the client as “my sister,” maintaining minimal eye contact and appropriate physical distance, and not forgetting to integrate the family in many, if not all, stages of treatment. Because Arab women always deal with patriarchal structures in their daily life, the therapist who encourages a woman to be more empowered to make her own choices should realize how this may place the woman at risk in her cultural context and limits prospects for change. Therapists should also be sensitive to their own values, which are always implicitly modeled to the client.

Somatization Because Arabs generally may not reveal their feelings, emotional conflicts are often manifested in physical symptoms, such as headaches, stomachaches, or various aches and pains, without the patient being aware of the connections between emotional and psychological distress. Consequently, they may be more likely to seek out, or be referred to, medical care rather than mental health specialists. They may further expect mental health treatment to be similar to physical or medical treatment in its immediacy of cure and lack of need for client participation or interaction. As a result, traditional Western therapy approaches based on patient involvement and communication—particularly regarding the patient taking responsibility for their problems— would be incongruous.

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Consistent with passivity, the client might wait to be questioned, deny that anything is wrong, and not bring up relevant issues related to the problem, much like one might do when seeking a physician’s help for a physical complaint. Because physicians usually make the referral to mental health workers, patients usually follow up with much ambivalence or as a desperate attempt to restore health, neither of which may be conducive to establishing a long-term positive rapport and working alliance. Therefore, the clinician must be prepared to focus on the immediacy of a problem and not expect long-term commitment. Therapists should use this passivity, as well as the authority placed in the therapist, to engage the client in his or her own treatment; for example, keeping a diary, planning an exercise program, or performing certain homework to help solve the problem. Expression of negative feelings is particularly not well accepted in Arab culture. This can confuse the therapist, who might not be aware of these negative feelings and cannot work with the transference or countertransference of those emotions. For Arabs, the anxious self-absorption that often accompanies a depressed mood may be negatively viewed as thinking too much and considered narcissistic self-preoccupation. Even if an Arab person feels incapacitated by psychomotor retardation, extreme fatigue, or other physical symptoms, he or she may not interpret these as mood-related, which would be a typical North American interpretation. Arab clients may be less inclined to commit suicide because it is considered a criminal act according to Islam, but when they do feel suicidal, they will not easily divulge the impulse. If asked directly if they are having thoughts of killing themselves, most depressed Arabs might reply that they are good people and would never entertain such thoughts. If, however, potentially suicidal patients are asked if they wish that God would let them die, they may reply in the affirmative.

Religion Religion is one of the most salient markers of cultural difference in Israel, carrying meaning and impacting the individual’s development. Therapists must be aware of the distinct cultural differences between Muslim Palestinian Arabs and Christian Palestinian Arabs in their way of relating and in their worldview. Muslim Palestinian Arabs might not appear to be devout based on their behavior or lifestyle but might still have strong religious sentiments; therefore, questions should be asked about that situation. The psychological values of Islam emphasize particular beliefs, ways of individual behavior, and norms of group involvement in identifying and responding to mental health problems that can provide some support and that can enhance the psychotherapeutic process, including patience, hope, utilization of group and community support, and use of various religious practices and rituals that enhance group support, catharsis, sense of belonging, and individual well-being.



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In addition, Islam considers health a gift from Allah that must be preserved with utmost respect. The Palestinian Arab Muslims, however, may also have a general tendency to resign themselves to God’s care and thus neglect or deny symptoms for a long time. An almost universal attitude is known as inshallah (as God wills), a pervasive belief in destiny or predetermination that good or bad outcomes, including whether one becomes ill, improves, or dies, are entirely in God’s hands. As a result, patients may not follow through with recommendations. Consistent with this, mental health problems such as depression and psychotic illnesses are often believed to be a result of loss of faith in God. Because humans are considered the highest form of life because of their ability to reason, loss of reason is the most serious illness that can only be cured by reaffirming belief in God (which can be done directly or through assistance of a religious intermediary or folk healer). Some Arabs believe in the evil eye, that mental illness is caused by curses, possession by demons, failure to follow rituals for avoiding harm, and fate. The evil eye is typically cast by women jealous of the good fortune of another who has beautiful and healthy children, which is why it is essential to mention the name of God or the Prophet whenever giving praise. This phenomenon is reminiscent of such psychological concepts as projective identification, which is considered a defense through which undesirable aspects of the self are projected outside of the self into another. Consistent with the client’s tendency toward passivity, the mental health practitioner can learn from traditional healers to be active and direct, advise, guide, give instructions, and suggest practical courses of treatment such as rituals. Studies show that Arab individuals with mental symptoms, particularly women, consult with, or are referred to, traditional healers more than to formal mental health specialists, likely because traditional healers and religious leaders live in the individuals’ communities, share their worldview, make no labeling diagnoses, and use brief and spiritual treatments. It is natural that Arab people tend to rely on the mosque and sheikh and studying the Koran in dealing with emotional and mental difficulties. Arabs in Israel consulting religious leaders or traditional healers has a political significance because the biomedical system may represent dangerous forces of globalization and a dominant Israeli, Western culture.

Negative View of Psychological Problems and Services Arab clients tend to underutilize health services in general and mental health services in particular. This is due to several factors, including cultural sensitivity and religious beliefs; stigma and shame to the individual and the family, especially as regards the possible negative reaction of the community and fear of being ostracized; negative attitudes toward formal mental health professionals; preference for alternative resources for informal healing and treatment more consistent with their culture and language; rejection of Western-trained professionals, even from their own culture; lack of affordability or availability of ser-

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vices; and lack of familiarity or knowledge about formal mental health services and their availability and existence. Psychiatrists, psychologists, or other professionals in the mental health field may be viewed suspiciously as those who do not rigidly follow religious codes and values and are, therefore, not a true source of solace and healing. This limits the development of a therapist-client relationship that could include a mutual, sincere, emotional connection. Because stigma and shame associated with mental health problems play such a big role, mental illness is often denied and, therefore, can be present and untreated over a long period of time. Political dynamics play another big role in that the introduction of helping-professional practices coincides with the establishment of the Israeli state, seen by many as yet another stage of attempts at control by colonial settler regimes (extending back to the Crusades and the British Empire) and, therefore, viewed as upsetting the Arab social structures, community relations, and all aspects of Arab life. The mental health systems in Israel—funded and often carried out by institutions of the state—may also be perceived as coercive. Moreover, because mental health services are frequently unavailable within Arab communities, this necessitates travel outside the community, which is not only difficult but further reinforces the sense of estrangement with the mental health system by Arabs. To bridge cultural gaps, the therapist must be educated about the religious, cultural, and national background of the client. A detailed history should be taken, including information such as level of social/family support and degree of religious affiliation. An assessment of the client’s personal background and level of acculturation helps alert the sensitive clinician to potential cultural conflicts regarding treatment.

Responsibility of Mental Health Practitioners Muslim Palestinian Arab clients and their families may place a great deal of responsibility on the mental health practitioner to solve their problems, assigning a great deal of authority to the therapist and conforming to what is advised or prescribed, at least on the surface (Okasha, 2003). The therapist must be prepared to either assume that role, or be very clear about why not, explaining this to the client and related, involved others. Also, because disagreeing may be equated with confrontation—an action considered rude—clients may be increasingly passive during assessment interviews and the helping process in general. The clinician must be patient, acknowledge compliance, and accept, but not encourage, passivity.

The Concept of Time Differences in temporal perception can be challenging while working with clients and their families. Arabs’ notion of time is more fluid and not as structured or



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determined as in the West. As a result, Arabs may not be very time bound. The Arabic language has no clear distinctions between various forms of past and future. Psychologically speaking, this can be viewed as advantageous in that it affords flexibility in one’s adaptation to life’s circumstances, which fosters an ability to quickly react when facing the unforeseen. It is a disadvantage, however, when living in cultures requiring a time-sensitive attitude. Thus, making and keeping appointments at fixed times or starting and ending sessions promptly might be a source of difficulty.

The Political Impact on Therapy Political issues infuse every aspect of life in Israel, especially for Palestinian Arabs who live in a state whose identity has been contested, whose 55-year history as a state has been fraught with internal and external geopolitical tensions, and which is at war with their own brethren (in the Occupied Palestinian Territories) (Yiftachel, 1996). In Israel, perhaps more than in many other countries, helping professionals cannot ignore political realities because they have a direct impact upon presenting problems as well as clinical processes. Furthermore, policy makers should ensure services that are accessible and delivered with cultural competence; Arab students should be recruited and retained in various helping professional programs at Israeli universities to prevent so-called brain drain; and all decision makers should reach out to Arabs to increase knowledge of mental health practice and reduce the stigma and poor quality of services that Arabs can experience. For Palestinian Arab Israelis, violence toward Palestinians may arouse feelings of being part of a state that is killing its own people; for a Jewish person, a Palestinian suicide bomb may create comparable feelings of vulnerability, anger, and distrust. Anyone—client or therapist or family member—losing a loved one due to this cycle of political violence, may well bring those feelings into any therapeutic encounter, influencing process, transference, or countertransference, with the result that those feelings might inhibit open communication. Jews’ feelings about Islam and Palestinian Arabs’ feelings about Judaism will influence the relationship. Consideration of all these factors is required for culturally competent services, for patient and therapist to have an authentic clinical encounter, and ultimately for the experience of this relationship to be extended to the broader community. In this way, the therapeutic relationship can contribute to peace in the conflict.

When the Therapist Is Jewish Any intervention involving a Jewish practitioner with a Muslim Palestinian Arab Israeli may highlight this political dynamic and conflict. Despite similarities in the culture and heritage, political tensions are further exacerbated by the cultural, religious, and historical differences between Arab and Jew.

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Jews often have biases toward Arab Israelis just as Arab Israelis often have biases toward Jews. Neither should interfere with quality service; to this end, Jewish practitioners should take into account the traumatic political experiences Palestinian Arabs in Israel have experienced over several generations since 1948 and that continue to the present day in the form of discrimination, stereotypes, social exclusion, and lack of services compared to mainstream Israelis. These must be addressed and should guide good mental health practice and training, consistent with culturally competent intervention. Because Arab clients can defer to a therapist, projecting notions of the hakim and of a respected elder or parent, Jewish Israeli therapists can be a role model of a nonjudgmental person who removes unhelpful political tensions from a relationship. The behavior of the client must be first understood from a cultural perspective; thereafter, political contexts can be understood, deconstructed, and, where appropriate, brought into the therapeutic light to make unconscious sources of tension more conscious.

Conclusions In summary, because Arab society is oriented to the collective, any problem involving an individual necessarily brings the family, and extended family or community, into a clinical scenario. Dominant members of a family or community are especially significant leverage points and should be incorporated into any intervention as required. A clinician must make intervention decisions collaboratively and accordingly, even taking into consideration elder members such as religious leaders and traditional mediators respected for their experience and wisdom. Equally, therapy should take into consideration issues of gender roles and religion idiosyncratic within Palestinian Arab society. Intervention should be oriented toward being a positive example of understanding, acceptance, tolerance, and trust that is helpful to resolve the conflict between the two cultures living side by side. All these considerations can foster better relations between Israelis and their Palestinian Arab minority neighbors. This includes insurance of social justice for Arabs and sensitivity to the impact of political violence of Israelis toward Palestinians or Palestinians toward Israelis.

Further Reading Abudabbeh, N., & Aseel, H. A. (1999). Transcultural counselling and Arab Americans. In J. McFadden (Ed.), Transcultural counselling (2nd ed., pp. 283–296). Alexandria, VA: American Counselling Association. Al-Issa, I. (1995). Handbook of culture and mental illness: An international perspective. Madison, CT: International Universities Press. Al-Krenawi, A., & Graham, J. R. (2000). Culturally-sensitive social work practice with Arab clients in mental health settings. Health and Social Work, 25, 9–22. Salem, P. (Ed.). (1997). Conflict resolution in the Arab world: Selected essays. Beirut, Lebanon: American University of Beirut.



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References Al-Krenawi, A., & Graham, J. R. (2002). Social work with Canadians of Arab background: Insight into direct practice. In A. Al-Krenawi & J. R. Graham (Eds.), Multicultural social work in Canada: Working with diverse ethno-racial communities (pp. 174–201). Toronto: Oxford University Press. Al-Krenawi, A., & Graham, J. R., (2003). Principles of social work practice in the Muslim Arab world. Arab Studies Quarterly, 26 (4), 75–91. Al-Krenawi, A., & Graham, J. R. (2005). Mental health practice for Muslim Arab peoples in Israel. In C. Rabin (Ed.), Understanding gender, culture and ethnicity in the helping process (pp. 68–83). Belmont, California: Thomson Wadsworth. Al-Krenawi, A., & Graham, J. R. (2006). A comparison of family functioning, life and marital satisfaction, and mental health of women in polygamous and monogamous marriages. International Journal of Social Psychiatry, 52, 5–17. Arab Association for Human Rights. (2003, July 15–22). More house demolitions in the Negev. Weekly Review of the Arab Press in Israel, 126. Retrieved January 8, 2004, from www.arabhra.org/publications/wrap/­wraphome 2003.htm Association for the Advancement of Civic Equality. (2004). The Sikkuy Report. Retrieved July 12, 2005, from http:// http://www.sikkuy.org.il/english/home.html Ben Meir, E. (2002). Israeli Arabs: To whom do they pledge allegiance? Sha’arey Tikva: Ariel Center for Policy Research. Center for Bedouin Studies and Development. (1998). Facts about Negev Bedouin Arab Education. Beer Sheva: Ben Gurion University of the Negev. Central Bureau of Statistics. (1998). Statistical Abstract of Israel, No. 49, Tables 2.1, 12.7, 5. Jerusalem: Author. Ganim, A., & Smooha, S. (2001). Attitudes of the Arabs to the state of Israel. Retrieved January 8, 2003, from http://66.155.17.109/peace/pyblications.asp#academic Israel State Comptroller and Ombudsman. (1997). State Comptroller’s Report, No. 48 (p. 319). Retrieved January 8, 2003, from http://www.mevaker.gov.il/serve/contentTree. asp?bookid5162&id557&contentid5&parentcid5undefined&sw51024&hw5698 Kanaana, S. (1992). Still on vacation. Jerusalem Centre for Palestinian Studies, 67–71. Khamaisi, R. (2002). The distorted imposed urbanization: The reality of the Arab-Palestinians in Israel. Al-Borhan: Social, Cultural and Science Quarterly, 1(2), 47–74 (in Arabic). Levallois, A. (2002). The cost of the Palestinian intifada. Politique Internationale, 96, 193– 206. Lustick, I. (1993). Unsettled states, disputed lands. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press. Nir, O. (2003). Policy Brief: Israel’s Arab minority. Middle East Institute. Retrieved July 12, 2005 from http://www.mideasti.org/articles/doc22.html Okasha, A. (2003). Mental health services in the Arab world. Arab Studies Quarterly, 25(4), 39–52. Wakim, W. (1994, October). Paper presented at the first Conference for Human Rights in Arab Society, Nazareth, Israel. Yiftachel, O. (1996). The internal frontier: Territorial control and ethnic relations in Israel. Regional Studies, 30, 493–508.

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29

Ordinary Madness of the Palestinian-Israeli Conflict Jerry T. Lawler

Introduction Can students in an adult education class on the psychology of interethnic conflict be convinced that they suffer from an ordinary form of madness and that this might distort their view of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict? That is what I try to achieve in my course “The Psychology of Interethnic Conflict.” I went to the Middle East for the first time in 2000 as a volunteer in the Palestinian mental health system, arriving just when the Al-Aqsa intifada had destroyed the relative peace that had prevailed since the late 1980s. I arrived in Gaza three days before the infamous Ariel Sharon visit to the Temple Mount in Jerusalem and left about five months later, on the day Sharon was elected prime minister of Israel. I returned for one month last year and again this fall for three more months. I write this from Jerusalem in winter 2005. A fragile truce following the withdrawal of the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) from the Gaza Strip has once again been shattered by a series of tit-for-tat violent acts by the two sides. In five years, nothing much seems to have changed. The ferocity of the conflict and the intensity of the feelings expressed at that time by Palestinians and Israelis alike affected me profoundly and altered my clinical practice, especially in how I came to view interpersonal conflict and anger. Out of that experience, and with the help of resources provided by Psychologists for Social Responsibility, I developed a 10-week adult education class that I have been teaching at the Senior Institute of the Baltimore County Community College in Catonsville, Maryland.

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Background Psychiatrists and psychologists are often called shrinks, referring sarcastically to their ability to deflate the ego. This appellation is not altogether undeserved. In the everyday sense, this usually means a deflation of pride or hubris but also refers to the process of learning about the self in therapy. Clients learn over time that their cherished defenses against imagined threats from the world are obsolete and lead only to unhappiness and lack of freedom. If therapy goes well, these vestigial beliefs are gradually shrunk, leaving a perilous sense of vulnerability until new and more realistic coping strategies are developed. But what does this have to do with a conflict raging 5,000 miles away from my consulting room? A lot, I believe. I have found that many cherished mental habits that we cling to for security and comfort in the world impede our ability to see conflicts like the Israeli-Palestinian one clearly and without bias. I call these patterns of thinking and feeling ordinary madness, and I believe we all suffer from it. There is some resistance to this message when it comes from a clinical psychologist, like me. Most people associate clinical psychology with mental disorders; rightfully, as our state or jurisdiction licenses us to treat mental disorders. But most people are also firmly convinced that other people—not they—may have one of these mental disorders and need to see a shrink. They make a neat and tidy distinction between psychopathology and health. I try to get across the idea that everyone suffers a sort of nondisabling mental disorder—not codified in the Diagnostic Manual—but that results in grave consequences to our world. In the class I teach, I try to get my students to realize, through exercises, roleplay, and questionnaires, how we all suffer from this nondisabling mental disorder to a degree. The hope is that students will become less certain about their sanity, less convinced about the truth of what they know, and see their ordinary way of seeing interethnic conflict as a sort of madness. Thus, I hope to induce a little humility in the students. I am aware that many students come to the class with well-formed and thought-out opinions about the causes of the conflict in the Middle East, just like those people who call radio talk shows on some hot topic like the conflict raging in the Middle East, and even if they are not articulate or well-informed, they state their opinion with absolute conviction that they are right. I ask my class to notice how passionate and certain these callers are in their opinions; almost never do they express confusion, ambivalence, or a need to seek more information about a subject. Then, I tell the class that they are more or less like these callers. They have an a priori assumption that they are able to freely seek out unbiased information, assimilate this information more or less accurately, analyze complicated situations like the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and arrive at independent conclusions about it. Most come down solidly on one side or the other. The class is designed to assault this notion that we are all independent observers able to see things clearly and arrive at veridical truth. I do this by challenging the accuracy of their perceptions in their everyday lives, using some of the accumulated knowledge of human psychology. If day-to-day perceptions in conflict situations are



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faulty, perhaps certitude about interethnic conflict is faulty as well. Diagrammatically, the pedagogy can be described as in Figure 29.1, “The goal in transforming cognitions about conflict” (keeping in mind that some people become more certain when challenged, but it represents my intention). I try to instill in the students the idea that a lot of ordinary things we do or believe are mad in a way: the fanatical devotion to a local sports team that may have no connection with the local community; the myopia in a conviction that where one lives is the best place to live, even though one has never lived anywhere else; the fickleness of changing opinions about other nations based on the vicissitudes of history, for example seeing Japan at one time as the epitome of evil and another time as a virtuous ally; the heartlessness of how something as trivial as new leash laws for dogs in city parks can transform formerly friendly neighbors into warring combatants. If, at the end of the 10 weeks, I have shaken this conviction of being right, even a little, I feel I have accomplished my goal. I always start out my course by asking the students what they believe causes interethnic conflict. I get a variety of answers: geography, religion, history, economics, biology, bad leaders, and human nature. Students usually cite a single element and rarely say that the cause is a complex combination of many things operating at many levels and that the original cause(s) may not remain the one(s) that keeps the conflict going. The usual response to the question reminds me of that parable of the blind men touching the elephant in an effort to discover what it is, in which the one feeling the tail says it is a rope, the one touching the leg says it is a tree, and the one holding the trunk says it is a hose. The students have usually read a great deal in the local media about Israel and Palestine and come to class with hardened opinions. Many opinions are offered, including that the problem is the intransigence of Yasir Arafat, who was offered a good deal by Ehud Barak at Camp David in July 2000 and arrogantly refused; the problem is Israeli policy that is driven by ultra right-wing settlers who have no intention of settling for a two-state solution; or the problem is that Israel is an agent of the United States in a neocolonialist expansion project. One student asserted that because Israel had done more with the land in 50 years than the Palestinians had done in 400 years, it proved that they were superior and deserved supremacy. What these opinions have in common is the certainty with which the students assert them and their univariate nature (meaning that rarely do students talk about multiple causes of the conflict). I admit my own bias. I believe fundamentally that conflicts come about from the crazy way we individual humans perceive and think about things. I tell the class

Figure 29.1.  The goal in transforming cognitions about conflict.

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that within the broad discipline of psychology, there are lots of blind men touching that elephant and pronouncing for the world what it really is. Many psychologists have specialized in a particular line of research or have become adept at treatment using a particular technique or model. Naturally, we have a tendency to view the world through the lens of our own particular specialty; as the saying goes, “If all you have is a hammer, everything can start to resemble a nail.” As scientists, we are also taught to look for parsimonious solutions to problems, so a single causal factor seems neater and more comprehensible than a complex group of causes. Psychology is an extremely broad discipline, however, with a rich history. Many scions have developed into a panoply of research branches that have become legitimized and institutionalized into belief systems, sometimes with competing and contradictory models of human behavior. One has only to look at the number of divisions in the American Psychological Association to see the diversity. I do not presume that I have begun to cover the field of possible psychological underpinnings of conflict. Certainly, more ways exist to view the elephant. Researchers and practitioners in the fields of evolutionary psychology, attachment theory, different schools of family systems theory, learning theory, and psychoanalysis—to name a few—may legitimately add their own perspective. I choose the perspectives I do for this course because they seem to represent those human distortions of reality that are most observable in the Middle East. I am certain a psychologist carrying other hammers might see other nails.

Class Structure and Content In the class, I cover eight areas of research and practice in the general areas of social, cognitive, and clinical psychology. The topics I selected were ones I believe are relevant to the behavior and opinions of Palestinians and Israelis I met and observed during my stays here. I give the class a broad background in different fields and concepts of psychology, including cognition, stereotyping, and object relations, and a class in general semantics based on the work of Alfred Korzbyski (1993). We start off with a chilling difficult-to-watch PBS Frontline report on the Rwandan genocide called “Valentina’s Nightmare” (1997) and relate everything back to the tragedy of interethnic conflict in general and the Middle East in particular. I conclude on an upbeat note with a session on empathy and altruism. Each session has an experiential component, either guided meditations, role-play, or written exercises, designed to show the students how easily they can misjudge the world. Table 29.1 shows the psychological topics, related everyday questions (e.g., related to buying a car or reading newspapers), and related questions to the continuing Israeli-Palestinian conflict (e.g., using different terms for terrorists, which side is more amenable to negotiation).

Examples of Using Everyday Experience to Teach Ordinary Madness To give a flavor for how I make the transition from everyday madness to reflections on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the following are examples from the class.



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Road Rage and Prejudice In discussing prejudice and stereotyping, I use common examples of how we all make unfounded generalizations about a group. I like to use road rage. Angry people seem particularly prone to making rash judgments, and traffic incidents are a good example of a situation that frequently triggers harsh and unfair evaluations of others. The U.S. highway system is a particularly good real-life laboratory to study this phenomenon. It symbolizes freedom to exercise power by controlling a powerful machine but freedom that is frequently thwarted by traffic jams or other drivers going slow in the fast lane, not accelerating fast enough from traffic lights, or pulling out in front of us and making us brake. Because relationships on the highway are also anonymous and transient, and our knowledge of the driver is scant, the highway becomes fertile ground for primitive projection, acting out, and stereotyping. For example, I frequently hear the most startling characterizations about drivers who are women, Asian, drive certain kinds of cars, or have license plates from other states. Reflecting similar stereotyping and generalizations, I have heard Israelis say that they never should have given Palestinians weapons for selfpolicing following the Oslo Accords because they were inherently a violent people and it was inevitable that they would turn the guns against the more civilized Israelis. For their part, Palestinians would tell me that Israelis are all Zionist extremists with an ultimate goal of a single Jewish state. In a traffic encounter, one driver has meager information about the other. Usually, the only things known are those that can be glanced from afar: the type of car, its general speed and trajectory, a silhouette of the driver from behind, license identification, and the general condition and age of the vehicle. How can conclusions about the other driver be drawn from only these facts? It is an easy transition from this example to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict; as the two populations are largely in forced separation, they see each other in caricature through their own media, and neither has much in-depth information about the other. Students can make the association from their personal experience of rushing to judgment in the highway situation to the experience that the average person in Palestine and Israel might have in viewing the other.

Heuristic Errors: The United States, Palau, and Turkey When we discuss the rich area of judgment heuristics, I give the class a multiple-choice quiz in which I ask several seemingly commonsensical questions about their knowledge of the world. One question in the quiz goes like this: Which country is more similar to the United States: Turkey or Palau? Overwhelmingly, students respond that Turkey is more similar, and they are always surprised to find that Palau is a republic in Polynesia, population 17,717, whose people are Christian, speak English, and use the U.S. dollar for currency. (I may have to discontinue using this example because of increased familiarity about Palau because of the popular U.S. network reality show Survivor that featured the island in one series.) Students use the similarity heuristic in answering this question, judging that one thing is like another by deconstructing all the component features of the thing and matching them one by one (Glass & Holyoke,

Table 29.1.  Psychological Topics Related to Questions in Everyday Life and to the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict Examples of Questions Relating to the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict

Psychology Topic

Everyday Question

Cognition: cognitive dissonance (Festinger, 1957)

Why, when we buy a car, do we later tend to look at ads for the car we bought and not for competing models?

Does the major life change involved in immigrating to Israel make an Israeli erase any unease he may have about the morality of Israeli actions against the Palestinians?

Judgment heuristics (Glass & Holyoke, 1986)

Why do we drive more slowly for a while after seeing an accident on the expressway?

Does the available heuristic cause Israelis to overestimate the probability of a terrorist attack?

Attribution theory and the fundamental attribution error (Heider, 1958)

Why do we see ourselves as more flexible and others as more rigid in our reactions to situations?

Does the fundamental attribution error cause Palestinians to erroneously feel they are more flexible in negotiations and the Israelis are more rigid?

Prejudice and stereotyping (Allport, 1955)

What unfounded assumptions do we make about minority groups in our city?

What unfounded assumptions based on scanty information are made by Palestinians about Israelis and vice versa?

Psychodynamic/object relations (Mahler, Pine, & Bergman, 1975)

What might account for stranger anxiety in toddlers?

Do ordinary nonborderline, residual, unintegrated, negative feelings of young Palestinians toward caretakers get projected on a suitable enemy (the Israelis) as they grow up?

Narrative therapy and postmodernism (White & Epston, 1990)

How, from the infinite number of possibilities, does our daily newspaper presume to describe for us “what happened yesterday” in a few articles?

Do the Palestinians construct a shame-based narrative to account for how they lost their ancestral home to the Israelis? (And does this partially account for some of the rage they feel?)

General semantics (Korzbyski, 1993)

Did the term Evil Empire adequately describe the complexity of the old Soviet Union?

How do the differing terms to describe suicide bombers (Israeli: terrorists; Palestinian: martyrs) imply inference instead of objective description?



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1986). Most people in the United States know something about Turkey and find enough corresponding features to conclude that it has at least some similarity to the United States. In contrast, most students know nothing about Palau so find no one-to-one correspondences. In each class, there are a few brave students who refuse to answer on the basis that they know nothing about Palau. The vast majority, however, makes a rapid judgment, which is wrong. If the mechanism of the similarity judgment heuristic crosses cultures, we might expect a person in Gaza to find more similarity between Gaza and any location with which he is already familiar. An Israeli would find locations he or she was already familiar with as more similar to Tel Aviv or Ashdod. Given the forced separation of the two peoples, and our human tendency to remain in areas of familiarity, the heuristic may contribute to an ever tighter enclosed system of knowledge for both peoples. More broadly, media coverage and a significant Jewish population in the United States have resulted in Americans knowing much more about Israel and Israelis than about Palestine and Palestinians. Might this influence millions of citizens’ perceptions of likeness and work from the grass roots up through our political systems to have indirect impact on public policy toward the two nations?

The Fundamental Attribution Error I have the class complete two questionnaires, one about a prominent person in the news they select and one about themselves, that rate descriptions across 21 personality characteristics (Whatley, 2005). For each trait, the student selects either one of the two opposite extremes of the trait or rates that it depends on the situation. For example, is the person: Subjective

Analytic

Depends on the situation

The questionnaires tap into the tendency to attribute fixed personality characteristics to others and more flexible contingent traits to ourselves. As expected, the students see themselves as much more flexible in most situations than the public person they selected for the comparison. This usually comes as a shock and is a good lead-in to questions such as: Do Palestinian negotiators in the peace talks see themselves as more open to compromise than their Israeli counterparts?

or Do Israelis see themselves as inherently less violent compared to Palestinians?

The Psychodynamics of Externalization I go over the theory developed by psychiatrist Vamik D. Volkan, who believes that we all suffer a little bit from borderline tendencies (Volkan, 1988). A person

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with a borderline tendency is unable to see people as they are—as a combination of good and bad—and instead uses a primitive defense called splitting to unrealistically see others as either all good or all bad, with nothing in between. Even the healthiest of us, Volkan believes, have some residual unintegrated negative feelings toward caretakers left over from childhood. Our culture helps us dispose of these feelings by providing what Volkan calls “suitable targets for externalization” (p. 31) that include identified out-groups whose otherness is constantly reinforced as we grow up by a variety of cultural mechanisms, including symbols (flags), dress, food, custom, and character. Most of my classes are well familiar with this process, having lived through the period of the Cold War with the USSR when the Soviets were characterized by the Reagan administration as the Evil Empire. Usually this process is unconscious; we do not know we are externalizing. Of course, it is impossible to “make the unconscious conscious” in a 10-week class, but I do the next best thing using an experiential exercise. I ask the class to rate, on a scale of –5 to +5, with 0 being neutral, the likeability of various groups. For example: Illegal immigrants, used car salesmen, Zionists, drug abusers, gays, women, Men, southern males who like NASCAR, Races, Jews, rich people, poor people.

Of course I am trying to get my students to engage in a little splitting, and most are happy to oblige by giving extreme scores to certain groups with which they have had little intimate contact. I then ask them to pick one of the groups they were most negative about for the following guided meditation. We start with some basic mindfulness breathing, and then I lead them through a series of statements that includes: “I am a person who has suffered in my life.” “I am a person who has hope.” “I am a person who strives to find meaning.” “I am a person who is sometimes sad and in despair.” “I am a person who has had losses in my life.” “I am a person who has also had joys in my life.” “I have caused others pain in my life.” “But I have caused others joy as well.” “I am a person who can be forgiving.”

I then repeat the statements twice. The first time, I substitute the word I with The students in this class are. The second time, I ask them to substitute the name of their hated group; for example, “An SUV owner is a person who has suffered in life.” Students react to this exercise strongly but in opposite ways. Some are able to attribute common humanity to the hated group and are astounded that they



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can do it. One student told me that she was able to “rehumanize” (her word) Republicans and see them in a new way. Others are fiercely resistant to the exercise, unable to see any of their own humanity in the hated group. In therapy, a good intervention is one that works to the client’s advantage no matter how it comes out, and I believe this exercise is similar in that some students are able to move past some long-held stereotypes of certain groups and benefit from it, whereas others come face-to-face with their stubborn resistance and become more aware of the power of stereotypes over them.

Conclusion The class I teach can be seen as a brief therapy in the classroom for ordinary madness; however, I do not want to make claims for it over and above what it is. Just as the clients in my practice require a variety of approaches, ranging from supportive to brief or long-term work, so students in my class require a variety of approaches. Some come to the class seemingly already aware of the habits of mind that distort the world into mutually exclusive “us” and “them” categories and are vigilant in guarding against them. Others seem to benefit from the class and are shocked at some of these heretofore unexamined patterns but willing to examine them. Still others are unmoved. I recognize that some may suffer from what would be analogous to mild or more severe forms of what I call ordinary madness than others and may require longer or different so-called treatment just as patients who have borderline or paranoid tendencies cannot be an observing ego to their thought processes. The class is a work in progress, and I am always making modifications based on my own observations and students’ feedback.

References Allport, G. W. (1955). The nature of prejudice. New York: Addison-Wesley. Festinger, L. (1957). A theory of cognitive dissonance. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press. Glass, A., & Holyoke, K. (1986). Cognition (2nd ed.). New York: Random House. Heider, F. (1958). The psychology of interpersonal relations. New York: Wiley. Korzbyski, A. (1993). Science and sanity: An introduction to non-Aristotelian systems and general semantics (5th ed.). Engelwood, NJ: Institute of General Semantics. Mahler, M., Pine, F., & Bergman, A. (1975). The psychological birth of the human infant. New York: Basic Books. Valentina’s Nightmare. (1997). Frontline. Retrieved March 1, 2004, from http://www.pbs. org/wgbh/pages/frontline/shows/rwanda/ Volkan, V. D. (1988). The need to have enemies and allies: From clinical practice to international relationships. Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson. Whatley, M. A. (2005). Attribution scale. Retrieved March 1, 2004, from http://chiron. valdosta.edu/mawhatley/7670/activity/fae.htm White, M., & Epston, D. (1990). Narrative means to therapeutic ends. New York: W. W. Norton.

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Making Paper Flowers Bloom: Coping Strategies to Survive the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict Judy Kuriansky

Survival is fundamental for Israelis and Palestinians in these times of conflict. Survival means not only in extreme cases escaping death and recovering from injuries but also being able to function effectively in all aspects of everyday life (work, school, family, and relationships) despite threats to physical safety and emotional peacefulness. Living in Israel and Palestine has been called a “stress laboratory” because of the daily insecurity about expected threatening events. Even though Palestinians and Jewish Israelis have differing ideologies, family structure, religion, politics, and predominant psychosocial dynamics—for example, the humiliation felt by Palestinians and the lack of security faced by Israelis—people in both cultures share a common goal: to live a safe and satisfying life. This chapter explores ways in which individuals in the two societies can achieve those goals in the face of ongoing antagonism and terrorism and what others can do to help.

Strength of Spirit Crucial to surviving stress is strength of spirit that Palestinians and Israelis alike show in their commitment to their ideals, even if they define them differently and seek them by different means. Key among these ideals is the desire to live in a safe environment, to raise their children in a community free from fear, to have a home, to enjoy the basic necessities and a good life, and to feel a sense of self-worth. Over the years, I have worked with Israelis and Palestinians in the United States and during numerous trips to the region and in my role as an NGO representative to the United Nations for two psychological organizations (the

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International Association for Applied Psychology and the World Council for Psychotherapy). In the course of this work, I have met Palestinians rooted in a firm belief that they will one day realize their dream of a homeland but whose love for humanity outweighs any need for revenge or tendency toward violence. They maintain their self-respect even when exposed to a situation others might call humiliating. “No one can break my spirit, even at a checkpoint,” one young Palestinian man told me. “A soldier can talk down to me, or search me, but I know inside that I am worthy.” A Palestinian father I met in Ramallah told me of his worry for his two sons in these times of terror but said, “I have to believe and tell my sons that they can have a better future.” Equally, I have seen strength of spirit of Jewish Israelis. In Hadassah Hospital, I visited a soldier recovering from injuries sustained when he threw himself in front of a young man detonating his belt explosives, thereby saving the lives of fellow soldiers and civilians around him. I also sat with a father by the bedside of his 11-year-old son whose legs had been blown up by a terrorist’s bomb. When I thanked them both for not wanting revenge, they only focused on thanking me, saying, “Thank you, for coming, for listening, for caring.” The key to strength of spirit lies in hope and never letting compassionate spirit be defeated, no matter how deep the pain or how heavy the toll of loss. One mother who was working in a shoe store in order to earn money to feed her three children now sits in a hospital chair with bandages covering burns all over her body, the result of a woman trying on shoes and then throwing acid in her face from an innocuous-looking Coca-Cola cup. Although in great pain, the mother did not bemoan her fate, saying “I only hope that I might one day hug my children again.” A young man, his legs mangled from a bus bombing, harbored no hate and only pointed to his pregnant wife’s stomach and said, “I only pray that I will one day be able to play with my son someday.” His pregnant wife at his bedside said reassuringly, “We’ll be fine, we have hope.” After the bombing in the dining room for international students at Hebrew University in summer 2002, many Arab and Jewish students I spoke with on campus told me they could not sleep or study, but despite the terrifying incident, they will not be deterred from continuing their studies. Even U.S. students who had only just arrived for the intensive summer session committed to stay, defying those who would terrorize them. Twenty-four-year-old pharmacy student Alam, an Arab, saw bodies soaked in blood on the dining room floor. “I can’t study because of those pictures in my mind and thinking it could have been me dead,” he told me, “but I will not let anyone or anything stop me from finishing my degree to get a good job and have a good life.”

Three Levels of Safety Extensive experience in disaster relief has proved that fundamental to recovery is restoring a sense of safety and security. This is as important for adults as it is for children. The unpredictability and persistence of violence for Israelis



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and Palestinians—living in a state of so-called emergency routine when anything can happen at any time—make establishing a sense of security that much more crucial (Pat-Horenczyk, 2006). Safety is necessary on three levels: physical, emotional, and interpersonal. To achieve these states, in workshops for Arab and Jewish youth after the campus bombing, as in many other settings, I have led students in exercises to experience their energy, regain a sense of control, and reestablish trust in each other (Kuriansky, 2003c, 2004a, 2004b, 2005a). These exercises include movement, meditation, deep breathing, eye contact, and communicating compassion.

Contact Comfort After the 9/11 attacks on the World Trade Towers in New York, those of us doing disaster mental health relief for the Red Cross handed out stuffed teddy bears to comfort children who had lost a parent or loved one. The bears are not just a toy; sound psychological theory supports their usefulness in healing. According to developmental psychology theory, the toy serves as a transitional object that signifies the comfort of a nurturing mother (Winnicott, 1953). The importance of such contact comfort has also been substantiated by laboratory animal studies that have shown that monkeys reared with cloth on a constructed mother figure mature more normally and have less emotional distress than those weaned on wire “mothers” (Harlow & Zimmermann, 1996). When we passed out the teddy bears to children at the Family Assistance Center, adults eyed them longingly. One man asked me, “Where’s my bear? I’m not too old for one of those, you know.” Orphans after the tragic Asian tsunami reacted similarly when I gave them stuffed rabbits; clutching the toy at night helped ease their nightmares of the tragic event (Kuriansky, 2005b, 2005c, 2005e). A year later, adults and children to whom I had given the toys still had them and said the toy triggered warm memories of my work with them and gave them ongoing comfort, easing their distressing symptoms. I have seen similar responses in Palestinian and Israeli children orphaned by the intifada clutching at tiny objects as if for dear life, clearly indicating their desperate need for contact and comfort.

Social Support Much research has shown that people cope better with trauma when they have a social support system (Norris & Kaniasty, 1996; Pierce, Lakey, Sarason, & Sarason, 1997). Just being present for someone else shows support. I know from all my years giving advice on the radio that just knowing someone cares lifts spirits and gives hope. Callers to my radio show expressed how reassured they felt knowing they were not alone in their problem and that others cared (Kuriansky, 1996, 2005d). The same sentiment was expressed by many terrorist survivors in Israel; echoing what one woman told me, “When you visit, we don’t feel so alone. We get strength from knowing others, Americans, care.”

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It is inherently comforting to feel that one is part of an extended family. In a speech in New York a few years ago, then-mayor of Jerusalem, Ehud Olmert, later elected prime minister of Israel, invoked a message from the Talmud that we are all responsible for one another. He said, “We are one family, there for each other in good times and bad. . . . When a member of the family is sick, you would rush to the bedside. Now the country is hurting and her brothers and sisters must come to her aide and comfort.” Similarly, Palestinian families I have encountered over the years also know the importance of a close-knit family and loyalty to the larger community. The value of support from the extended family and community became clear in the United States in the aftermath of 9/11 when neighborhoods organized candle lightings, memorial services, and walls of remembrance with photos and mementos of those who had perished in the attack. Strangers became friends, sharing grief and coming together (Kuriansky, 2003b). This phenomenon was evident in Israel at an event organized by the mayor of Netanya six months after the March 2002 terrorist bombing in the Park Hotel in the middle of a Passover holiday Seder with 250 guests. A suicide bomber walked into the dining room and detonated an explosive device. The reunion at a bowling alley—a setting chosen to inspire renewed joy—brought together, for the first time since the attack, survivors and their families with rescuers who had saved their lives, and religious leaders and community members who had helped in the recovery effort. One young woman who had been shot by a sniper—the bullet went through her mouth and out her cheek—was reunited with the ambulance medic who had treated her. “I owe you my life,” she told him, through tears. “I’m glad you’re alive and happy now,” he said to her. The meetings were significant for healing and providing some closure from the trauma of the experience. Support requires not only words but also action. At a recent Israel Film Festival that I hosted, Elie Weisel, in accepting an award, delivered his oft-quoted line, “We cannot be indifferent. We must act.” Three ways to act are to contribute what I call the three Ts: time, talent (skills), and treasure (money). At a memorial following the university bombing in Jerusalem, students at Yeshive College in New York stood up and pledged money ($50,000) to send to survivors but also promised to travel to the region to give in-person support. Organizations that are dedicated to reconciliation through grassroots cooperation efforts between Palestinians and Jewish Israelis are covered in my companion book, Beyond Bullets and Bombs: Grassroots Peacebuilding Projects between Israelis and Palestinians. Resources can also be found through Internet searches, for example, on sites like Just Vision (http://www.justvision.org), Alliance for Middle East Peace (www.allmep.org), and All Is One (http://traubman.igc.org/global.htm).

What Others Can Do “Are you crazy, going into the eye of a storm?” people asked me when I said I was going to Jerusalem at the height of the intifada. Yet my response was always, “What



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better time to go?” Some people resist going to a war zone or unstable country, feeling unqualified or unsure how to help; however, going to a war-torn area when people are suffering—not when things are calm—provides a unique opportunity to not only offer comfort but also to create a connection and a sense of common humanity that in itself is healing. Traveling to a danger zone is the cornerstone of many groups that offer financial, psychological, and spiritual support for Palestinians and Israelis. Frequently, such groups offer organized trips to the region that provide not only tours with expert guides but also educational sessions and meetings with communities, scholars, journalists, and policy makers as well as victims of terror. “These trips are rewarding for those who go as well as for those they intend to help,” explains Steve Klein of the United Jewish Federation of New York. “It is important to meet the people on the ground, and know the situation first-hand,” says Roz Rothstein of Stand With Us.org. Celebrities who have traveled to the region in times of terror include the late “Superman” Christopher Reeve and pop divas Madonna and Whitney Houston. El Al airlines reports other VIP visitors include actors Richard Gere and Chris Noth and Connecticut Senator Joseph Lieberman among dozens of politicians and UN ambassadors. Hollywood producer Lawrence Bender—known for his gruesome Quentin Tarantino films like Reservoir Dogs and Kill Bill—said of his seven-day trip to Israel that featured meetings with Israeli and Arab leaders, “I can tell you this has changed my life.” Helping helps the helper. Research shows that doing for others is good for one’s psychological and physical health; it improves the immune system, reduces heart rate and blood pressure, boosts self esteem and self-worth, and increases opiates in the brain (endorphin) linked to feelings of well-being (Graff, 1991; Piliavin, 2003). Helpers can, however, suffer from what is called compassion fatigue (Figley, 1995), which is why many psychosocial counselors in Israel have told me, wisely, that they are sensitive to developing programs to support helpers to cope with their own stress when they help others.

Demonstrating Solidarity “Solidarity means we see each other as members of the same family,” says Rabbi Joseph Potasnik, executive director of the New York Board of Rabbis. The cohost of WABC Talkradio’s Religion on the Line weekly radio show with Islamic and Christian leaders notes that solidarity also affirms life even in a climate of terror and confirms caring despite expressions of hate. Some solidarity groups and civil society organizations have a political agenda to support their perspective (Shapiro, 2005). These lobby for their cause to the United Nations, sometimes with success. In March 2005, partly due to the effectiveness of lobbying groups, reports were made about the situation of and assistance to Palestinian women and resolutions were passed by the Commission on the Status of Women, including one about ensuring the rights of Palestinian

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women (United Nations, 2005). In December 2005, at a solidarity meeting at the United Nations sponsored by the UN Division for Palestinian Rights that I attended, the president of the League of Arab States called upon the international community of the UN to deploy more efforts to support the Palestinian Authority to establish peace. At this meeting, the director of the Council of British-Arab Understanding announced, “There must be more focus on peace, not just process.” “We want peace in Palestine, not Palestine in pieces,” he said.

Accepting Normal Reactions Israelis and Palestinians live in a daily crisis of coping under constant threat of violence. In the face of such trauma, it is crucial to accept that all reactions or symptoms of stress that emerge are “normal reactions to an abnormal situation.” These include numbness, fears, frustration, flashbacks, insecurity, survivor guilt, trouble concentrating, and even questioning the meaning of life or God. Stages of coping with trauma are also normal: shock (disbelief, “This can’t be happening”) and then a flood of emotions like depression or anger, followed by eventual acceptance (Kubler-Ross, 1959; Kuriansky, 2002a, 2002c, 2003a). Similar reactions likely recur on anniversary dates of any loss (Kuriansky, 2002b).

Accepting Different Coping Styles It is also important to note that couples and family members can have different styles of coping, which can cause problems in their relationships. Although some people are emotional and need to talk—usually more women than men— others may need to avoid or deny emotions and channel energy into distracting activities (Kuriansky, 2002c, 2003b). For example, one woman told me she could not stop thinking, talking, and sobbing about the conflict between the Israelis and Palestinians, whereas her husband told her to just stop thinking about it, which made her furious. She needed to know that neither way of coping is right or wrong—just different—and that those differences must be accepted. The healthiest coping can be a combination, or balance, of those styles: venting feelings of powerlessness or helplessness but then putting feelings aside to get on with daily life.

Forgiveness Forgiveness—even in the face of the most painful loss—can be healing, whereas harboring anger and revenge breeds ill health (McCullough, Pargament, & Thoresen, 2000). Two youth—one Palestinian and one Israeli—who both lost their beloved brothers as a result of the intifada are an inspiring example of forgiveness. I heard them speak while they were on a tour of the United States to tell their stories. Aziz’s brother died from ill health after being in an Israeli prison, and Ya’ara’s brother, doing his service in the army, committed suicide



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when he realized that he could not shoot his gun and possibly kill someone. Both joined the Parent’s Circle Families Forum, an organization to help bereaving families transform bitterness into compassion.

Resilience Being a survivor rather than a victim means being resilient, a popular word in contemporary psychology that means the ability to weather difficult times and to bounce back from tragedy (Bonanno, 2006; APA, 2002). A resilient person: (1) keeps things in perspective, (2) avoids seeing a crisis as insurmountable, (3) remembers past coping, (4) looks to a better future, (5) sets goals and moves toward them, (6) makes connections, (7) accepts support, and (8) takes care of oneself. After each day of volunteering with the Red Cross with survivors after 9/11, our group would debrief by asking each other: “What can you do to be good to yourself now?” (Kuriansky, 2005b). I asked this question of staff in a workshop after the university bombing in Israel; suggestions included reading a good book or taking a long walk for relaxation or reminding family members about how much they are loved. In an example of resilience, teens from the Shevah Moffet high school made a video called We Will Never Stop Dancing after the tragedy when seven of their classmates were killed when a martyr detonated his bomb in the middle of the Dolphinarium discotheque on the beach at Tel Aviv in June 2001. “It means that even terrorism will not stop us from living out life and feeling joy,” one of the teens’ classmates told me. A sign of resilience in Israeli society is that festivals still go on in the streets of Jerusalem despite street and restaurant suicide bombings. Resilience can lead to what is called post-traumatic growth, positive outcomes from weathering negative events (Tedeschi & Calhoun, 1996). The conflict has already challenged many Israelis and Palestinians to form a new appreciation for life and to confront—and hopefully accept—differing opinions, even from close associates, about solutions to the crisis.

The Role of Children and Making Paper Flowers Bloom Children can be a good example of resilience. Former Israeli Prime Minister Golda Meir reportedly advised, “Tell children to get involved in causes that help others.” Youngsters can also inspire resilience in the face of terrorism by being an example of how to transform hate into understanding and cooperation. Palestinian and Jewish and Arab Israeli children are playing an important role in the peace process today by participating in many cooperative educational as well as artistic projects such as marches for peace and musical concerts and composing shared histories. They serve as an inspiration for the day when Palestinian and Israeli children can play side by side in peaceful games with toys, not guns, and

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when their parents from both cultures can share their pride together in their children’s accomplishments. One of the most powerful messages of survival and coping that I have seen is depicted in a scene from the Broadway play Golda’s Balcony. A poor child hands Prime Minister Golda Meir—portrayed brilliantly by actress Tovah Feldshuh—a bouquet of flowers made of paper. Meir smells them. Confused, the child asks quizzically, “Why would you smell them? They’re only paper.” The prime minister answers, “They’re the most beautiful flowers I ever saw, and when I put perfume on them, they will have a beautiful smell.”

References APA. (2002). The road to resilience. Retrieved January 31, 2006 from http://www.apahelpcenter.org/featuredtopics/feature.php?id=6&ch=4 Bonanno, G. (2004). Loss, trauma, and human resilience: Have we underestimated the human capacity to thrive after extremely aversive events?” American Psychologist, 59, 20–28. Figley, C. F. (Ed.). (1995). Compassion fatigue: Coping with secondary traumatic stress disorder in those who treat the traumatized. New York: Brunner/Mazel. Graff, L. (1991). Volunteer for the health of it. Etobicoke, ON: Volunteer Ontario. Harlow, H. F., & Zimmermann, R. R. (1996). Affectional responses in the infant monkey. In L. D. Houck & L. C. Drickamer (Eds.), Foundations of animal behavior: Classic papers with commentaries (pp. 376–387). Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Kubler-Ross, E. (1959). On death and dying. New York: Macmillan. Kuriansky, J. (1996). Generation sex. New York: Harper. Kuriansky, J. (2002a). Emotional response and recovery. In E. Hand (Ed.), ACCESS: Emergency preparedness handbook (pp. 14–20). White River Junction, VT: Nomad Press. Kuriansky, J. (2002b, September 8). Love in the time of terrorism. South China Morning Post, p. 9. Kuriansky, J. (2002c, July). Therapeutic approaches to terror. Speech at the World Congress of Psychotherapy, Vienna, Austria. Kuriansky, J. (2003a, July 22). Coping in a time of crisis. New York Daily News. Kuriansky, J. (2003b). The 9/11 terrorist attack on the World Trade Center: A New York psychologist’s personal experiences and professional perspective. Psychotherapie Forum, 11, 36–47. Kuriansky, J. (2003c, December). Peace and healing in troubled regions and times of terrorism: Impact on relationships, what East and West can learn from each other about treating trauma and a new integrated therapy model. Plenary address to the Middle East/North Africa Regional Conference of Psychology, Dubai, United Arab Emirates. Kuriansky, J. (2004a, September). New methods of psychotherapy in modern times, combining Eastern mystical techniques with Western practices. Plenary address to the Second Conference of the Eastern Psychotherapy Association, Tehran, Iran. Kuriansky, J. (2004b, August). Trauma: Coping interventions and research: A group workshop to cope with terrorism. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the American Psychological Association, Honolulu, Hawaii.



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Kuriansky, J. (2005a, August). Children in conflict zones: Psychotherapeutic techniques to aide Palestinian and Israeli children. Paper presented at the convention of the World Council of Psychotherapy, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Kuriansky, J. (2005b, August). Healing in troubled regions and times of terrorism and trauma: Theory, techniques, and psychotherapy models. Plenary speech to the convention of the World Council of Psychotherapy, Buenos Aires, Argentina. Kuriansky, J. (2005c, November). Psychological rebuilding in the tsunami aftermath. Paper presented at the meeting of the Asian Regional Conference of the International Association of Applied Psychology International, Bangkok, Thailand. Kuriansky, J. (2005d, March). Psychology and the media: New technologies. Speech to the Eastern Psychological Association, Boston. Kuriansky, J. (2005e, September). Unique cross-cultural approaches to helping children cope after the tsunami. Plenary speech to the World Federation of Mental Health, Cairo, Egypt. McCullough, M. E., Pargament, K. I., & Thoresen, C. E. (2000). Forgiveness: Theory, research, and practice. New York: Guilford Press. Norris, F. H., & Kaniasty, K. (1996). Received and perceived social support in times of stress: A test of the social support deterioration deterrence model. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 71, 498–511. Pat-Horenczyk, R. (2006). Terror in Jerusalem: Israelis coping with emergency routine. In J. Kuriansky (Ed.), Terror in the holy land: Inside the anguish of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict (pp. 67–74). Westport, CT: Praeger. Pierce, G. R., Lakey, B., Sarason, I. G., & Sarason, B. R. (Eds.). (1997). Sourcebook of social support and personality. New York: Plenum. Piliavin, J. A. (2003). Doing well by doing good: Benefits for the benefactor. In C.L.M. Keyes & J. Haidt (Eds.), Flourishing: The positive personality and the life well lived (pp. 227–248). Washington, DC: American Psychological Association. Shapiro, A. (2005, August). Nonviolent resistance in Palestine: Prospects, experience and solidarity. Speech to the American Psychological Association, Washington DC. Tedeschi, R. G., & Calhoun, L. G. (1996). Posttraumatic growth theory: Measuring the positive legacy of trauma. Journal of Traumatic Stress, 9, 455–471. United Nations. (2005, December 7). Situation of and assistance to Palestinian women. Report of the Secretary-General, Economic and Social Council. Commission on the Status of Women. UN Headquarters, New York. Winnicott, D. W. (1953). Transitional objects and transitional phenomena. International Journal of Psycho-Analysis, 34, 89–97.

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Weathering the “Perfect Storm”: Moving beyond Intractability of the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict Heidi Burgess and Guy Burgess

When one describes the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians, it is hard not to use the word intractable. After all, this is a conflict that has, thus far, resisted the best efforts of some of the world’s most skilled conflict-resolution practitioners. Like a so-called perfect storm (Junger, 1997) in which everything that possibly can go wrong does, everything that could make a conflict more difficult to resolve exists in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Still, the term intractable does not mean “impossible” or “hopeless.” It simply means “very difficult” or “stubborn.” This realization has inspired a great many talented individuals and organizations to continue their efforts to develop workable conflict-resolution strategies. Although their not-yet-successful efforts might fairly be compared to Sisyphus’s eternal struggle to push the stone over the mountain, there is continuing promise that, with thoughtful and dedicated effort, they will eventually be able to reach the tipping point at which, with Sisyphus, they will be chasing the boulder down the peaceful side of the mountain.

Defining Intractability We have been studying and teaching about what we call intractable conflicts for more than 15 years. Defining what the term intractable means has, in itself, been an intractable conflict. As others working in this field have also discovered, the term itself is contentious. Almost half of the 200 people involved in our Beyond Intractability Project have urged us to change the project name. “There is no such thing as intractable conflicts,” they say, or “It is too negative, too hopeless” (Burgess & Burgess, 2003a).

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Others say it is simply realistic and reflects the truth. People involved in or studying the Israeli-Palestinian conflict are more likely to agree with that view than others. We agree with Louis Kriesberg’s (2003, 2005) definition: intractable conflicts are ones that (1) persist for a long time, (2) are destructive, (3) are seen as a problem by one or more of the disputing parties, and (4) attempt to end or transform the conflicts into constructive ones have repeatedly failed. Certainly, the conflict between Israel and the Palestinians meets all four of those criteria. Those four criteria are also met by other conflicts around the world; for example, the conflicts in Cyprus, Sri Lanka, Kashmir, Sudan, Congo, Taiwan-China, and Colombia all meet these four criteria. Though they are not nearly as violent, the United States has several sociopolitical conflicts that meet these criteria as well: for example, the conflicts between abortion rights or homosexual rights proponents and foes or the continuing tension between the different races. Though they are different in nature and intensity, all of these conflicts have persisted for a long time, are destructive, are seen as a problem by many on both sides, and have resisted attempts at resolution. Hence, we would argue, they are intractable. Scholars of intractable conflicts explain that intractability is not a dichotomy but rather a continuum (Burgess & Burgess, 2003b). Conflicts can be more or less intractable, and their degree of intractability changes over time as the factors that contribute toward or against intractability change. At times, the IsraelPalestinian situation looked better (less intractable) than it does now; at other times, it looked very much worse. If one is to try to transform a conflict from intractable to more tractable, it is essential to understand the factors that tend to push a conflict toward intractability. The more of these problems that can be modified or “fixed,” the more likely the conflict can be transformed. The more thorny problems that remain, the more difficult transformation will be. Understanding the key causes of intractability in the Israeli-Palestinian situation, or in any other intractable conflict, is therefore essential for effective conflict transformation.

Factors Contributing to Intractability Poor Management Few conflicts are intractable from the beginning; they become so over time. They can be ignored and allowed to fester until they blow up. Or they can escalate quickly, become violent, and then get caught in a repetitive cycle of violence, hatred, distrust, and fear that becomes very difficult to break. Though it is commonly thought that the enemy is the other side, another way of viewing these conflicts is that the enemy is actually the process of escalation. Escalation takes conflicts out of the parties’ control and pushes the disputants to act in increasingly extreme ways that would not, under other circumstances, be considered remotely acceptable.



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In yet another scenario, intractable conflicts can appear to be resolved, but in a way that actually makes the long-term situation worse, not better. The IsraeliPalestinian conflict meets all three of these criteria. • The tension between the Jews and the Palestinians was present long before Israel was formed, resulting in many outbreaks of violence. Yet the British, and later the United Nations, did little to manage or resolve these conflicts (hence, allowing them to fester) until the conflict blew up in 1948 when the state of Israel was formally declared. • From the formation of the Israeli state onward, relations between the Israelis and the Palestinians deteriorated quickly. Violence was much more severe and frequent; attacks by one side generated retaliatory strikes by the other in an almost never-ending cycle, punctuated by all-out wars throughout much of the latter half of the twentieth century. These were further escalated by international pressures; the Arab-Israeli conflict more generally became a proxy war for the U.S.–Soviet confrontation, with the result that both sides fed arms into the region, further heightening tensions. • Efforts to resolve the conflict were made frequently, but all were insufficient. Early on, the British made contradictory promises to both sides and then failed to carry out those promises. Many cease-fires were negotiated, but none were followed up with peace agreements that worked through the underlying causes of the dispute, so the conflict kept flaring up. Each time an agreement was violated, distrust grew stronger.

In addition to poor management, other factors tend to predispose conflicts to violence and intractability, as described in the following section. Unfortunately, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict demonstrates many of these predispositions.

Predisposing Factors Our research on intractable conflicts throughout the world suggests that certain types of conflicts are especially likely to become intractable. Those include: • High-stakes, win-lose conflicts. These are conflicts over things that are extremely valuable but that are not obtainable for both (or all) parties at the same time or are not subject to compromise (such as one’s basic beliefs or one’s identity). This means there is no zone of possible agreement, no win-win solution. If one side wins, the other loses, and loss is unacceptable because the stakes are so high. In the case of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, the stakes could not be higher. Israelis are fighting for their very existence, and the Palestinians are fighting for their own state on at least some of the same land. Though many proposals have been made on how to divide the very limited land to accommodate both states, no solution has been acceptable to both sides. This was evident in the elections of 2006 and the policies of the elected Palestinian government. Although some Palestinians seem willing to accept a two-state solution with Israel occupying at least its pre-1967 borders, Hamas is still calling for the total destruction of the state of Israel, with Palestinian control of that land.

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Terror in the Holy Land • “Into the sea” framing. This is a term we invented to describe this conflict, although it exists in any situation in which the only or best solution is seen to be getting rid of the other side. All genocides are based on such “into the sea” framing. The assumption is that the other side is sufficiently evil, subhuman, and/or impossible to live with that the only solution to the conflict with them is to eliminate them. This is the solution Hamas is still pursuing with regard to the Israelis (Myers & Myre, 2006). • No way out. Intractable conflicts are ones in which there appears to be no way out (Zartman, 2003a, 2003b). In the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, other than eliminating or barricading the other side, many of the parties do not see any solution or way out that would leave them better off than they are now. This means that resolution is widely seen as worse than continuing the fight, even if the fight is enormously costly and destructive. As long as Palestinian leaders and their supporters continue to call for—or even hope for—the destruction of Israel, there will be no way out of this conflict. (Keep in mind, though, that most felt the same way about the Cold War, and we did find a way out of that.) • Irreconcilable moral differences. These are conflicts about right and wrong, good and evil. They may be rooted in different religions, cultures, or worldviews. Given that both Islam and Judaism are both Abrahamic religions, they do share some moral values. The moral differences between the fundamentalist Jews and fundamentalist Muslims, however, are still significant; consider, for example, their beliefs about the proper role and treatment of women. In addition to religion, the cultures and worldviews of the two people are worlds apart. Palestinians honor martyrdom and see suicide bombing as virtuous, whereas Jews value every single life much more highly and would not consider martyrdom anything but a tragedy. Palestinian children learn from textbooks that have maps of the Middle East that show Palestine, but Israel is not even identified on the map; it supposedly does not exist. Rather, Israelis are seen as illegitimate occupiers of Palestinian land—not just Gaza and the West Bank, but all of Israel as well. Needless to say, Israeli textbooks look different. The longer the two peoples stay estranged and physically separated, the greater cultural and worldview differences are going to become. • Domination or pecking-order conflicts. These are conflicts over power and status. Rooted in long-standing inequalities, a history of colonialism, racism, ethnocentrism, humiliation, dehumanization, and human rights abuses, these conflicts generate distrust, fear, and hatred that are very hard to overcome. Israel has dominated (meaning, it is more powerful) the relationship with the Palestinians ever since its victory in the 1948 war, but the domination became even more problematic in 1967 when Israel began its occupation of the West Bank and Gaza Strip. This occupation, it should be noted, was not intended, but when Egypt and Jordan refused to take that land back, Israel decided to maintain control for security reasons and with the hope of later being able to trade land for peace. Nevertheless, much of the outside world sees this as intentional domination. In addition, Israeli treatment of Palestinians is often seen by the Palestinians as degrading and humiliating, but is seen as necessary by the Israelis to maintain their security. These differing views, however, have cost Israel dearly in terms of Palestinian relations and world public opinion, even



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more so, apparently, than the Palestinian suicide attacks on Israel, which have not met with nearly the same level of condemnation. • Needs conflicts. These are conflicts over fundamental human needs, both material needs and social-psychological needs for identity, security, recognition, respect, and control. According to John Burton (1990) and other human needs theorists, when these fundamental needs are denied to an individual or a group, the person or group seeking such needs will persist in fighting until the needs are attained. Interestingly, unlike high-stakes distributional conflicts or irreconcilable moral conflicts, human needs conflicts can often be resolved in a winwin way because the more security and respect one group has, the less it is likely to attack the other. Yet this is often very hard to see or attain once an intractable conflict has become entrenched.

Both sides in this particular conflict seek security, a valued and legitimated identity, control over their own lives and futures, and recognition in the personal and political sense. Although in theory, these are attainable for both sides simultaneously (and most likely are not obtainable for either side without being granted to the other), at this point, both sides are so distrustful of each other that they are unable to see it that way and are unwilling to grant the other security, identity, control, and recognition that they both seek. • Identity conflicts. These are a particular kind of needs conflict. Jay Rothman (1997) and many other conflict theorists see conflicts over identity to be especially difficult to resolve. They go beyond distributional conflicts and domination conflicts to focus on identity itself: who is seen as good or valuable and who is seen as inferior or, in highly escalated conflicts, evil, or even subhuman. Humiliation and dehumanization then tend to lead to a sense of victimhood and a siege mentality (Bar-Tal, 2004a, 2004b; Maiese, 2003a, 2003b; Rosenberg, 2003a, 2003b).

This is very much a factor in this case: both sides’ identities are being ruthlessly attacked. This conflict cannot be resolved until each side accepts the legitimacy of the other and respects the other’s identity (Bar-Tal, 2004a). Of all the different interests and needs in this conflict, it can certainly be argued that respect for each other’s identity is the most important (and perhaps the most ­difficult) of all. • Large-scale, complex conflicts. Conflicts involving a large number of parties, issues, and events can be particularly difficult to handle. Most conflict management processes are table-oriented; they involve a few people sitting around a table, talking and working things out. No matter how successful such processes seem, it is very difficult to take agreements arrived at between a few people at a table and get them adopted by entire populations. When a multiplicity of factors are added, like parties, issues, jurisdictions, laws and regulations, and technical complexity, the situation becomes even more difficult. The number of issues in contention in this ­conflict is enormous, as are the number of parties, jurisdictions, and technicalities.

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We often use the Israeli-Palestinian conflict as an example of what we call the scale-up problem. Most conflict-resolution processes—including official, Track I negotiations; unofficial, Track II negotiations; dialogue groups; and problemsolving workshops—involve 20 to 50 participants at a time. The population of Israel in 2005, however, was about 6 million, and the Palestinians numbered approximately 4 million in the West Bank and Gaza and another 5 million living in other Arab countries and around the world. Bringing peace—and ultimately reconciliation—to all of these people is a much larger job than negotiating a peace agreement between leaders or transforming relations between people in a dialogue group. • C  onflict profiteers and spoilers. Most conflicts have people who do not want resolution, but in some conflicts these parties play a bigger role than they do in others. Profiteers are people in various roles who profit from the continuing conflict. They include leaders who have staked their reputation on winning or who benefit materially or politically from continuing the fight, arms dealers who make money selling munitions, and soldiers who may not have any other source of income or who many not even remember a life as anything but being a warrior. Spoilers are people who are (for a variety of reasons) left out of the peace negotiations and then set about to spoil any agreements that are made, either for principled or selfish reasons.

The spoiler effect is a huge problem in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Many of the past—and some of the current—leaders have staked their personal reputation on winning completely. For years, former Palestine Liberation Organization leader Yasir Arafat was a prime example, as was Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon in addition to other members of Sharon’s Likud Party in Israel and other Palestinian leaders. Outsiders also have been able to use this conflict for their own gain; Arab leaders have used it as an excuse to attack Israel, the United States, and the West more generally and have used it as an excuse for failing to deal with their own domestic problems. Spoilers on both sides (Palestinian suicide bombers and Israeli settlers who resisted leaving the settlements for religious reasons) made implementing a two-state solution impossible. • Protracted conflicts. Conflicts that go on a long time generate a history that is so hard to forget, forgive, or reverse that it makes the conflict increasingly hard to resolve. As peace educator and ­codirector of the International Center for Cooperation and Conflict Resolution at Columbia University Teachers College, Peter Coleman (2000) says intractable conflicts “have an extensive past, a turbulent present, and a murky future” (p. 432).

The protractedness of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is completely obvious, although it is somewhat misleading to claim that this conflict is thousands of years old. (It is not, because the Palestinians were not identified as a unique political group until the 1990s, and before World War I both groups lived side by side in relative peace as subjects of the Turks under the Ottoman Empire.) Nevertheless, tensions did grow quickly after the Balfour Declaration in 1917 and



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disintegrated into war at the end of the British mandate in 1948. Thus, several generations of Israelis and Palestinians have known nothing but war. The distrust borne of one broken agreement and cease-fire after another runs very deep, the pain of lost loved ones is felt by almost everyone on both sides, and the humiliation of years of repression suffered by the Palestinians will take many more years to reverse. Scholar and peace builder John Paul Lederach (1997) frequently warns that such intractable conflicts take as long to get out of as they take to get into. It is not surprising, then, that getting out is taking a long time. As we have illustrated, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict reflects all of these factors, making it, in a sense, a perfect storm.

Finding the Way Out The way out of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is not at all obvious. If it were, it would not be intractable. The factors delineated in the previous sections, however, do suggest several guidelines. • See and work with the whole elephant. This suggestion refers to the parable about the blind men and the elephant: one felt its tail and thought it looked like a snake, one felt its trunk and said it looked like a hose, and another felt its leg and said it looked like a tree. People trying to help transform this conflict must see all its facets and complexities and work in a coordinated way with many others to see and understand the whole, instead of just the parts, if they are to have a meaningful impact. That does not mean that everyone should (or can) deal with all aspects of this very complex situation. It does mean, however, that they should be aware of the many different facets, what needs to be done, and how they can coordinate their efforts with the efforts of others so that the whole is more than the sum of the parts. Groups working in isolation with small groups are not likely to have much effect unless their process includes some way to massively scale up to the 14 million-plus people in the region. • Consider how each small-scale intervention can be scaled up. Most conflict-resolution interventions work only with a small number of people. These efforts can be designed in ways that can effectively spread to larger groups—or not. John Paul Lederach (1997) talks about building linkages both horizontally (across groups) and vertically (from leaders to the grass roots on each side) to try to build as many connections between different peace-building efforts as possible. He also talks about the need for so-called critical yeast: small efforts that can be brought to bear in particular contexts that will have significantly larger effects as they play out. These and other mechanisms must be brought to bear to bring about a successful peace-building effort (Lederach, 2005). • Focus on trust. Lack of trust seems to us to be one of the key factors that drives everything else. Both sides in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict have made and continue to take actions that prove to the other side that they cannot be trusted. Until these actions are stopped and lasting and meaningful overtures are made to earn the other side’s trust, little progress on other matters is likely to be made. • Deny success and legitimacy to the spoilers and conflict profiteers. Closely linked to the trust issue is the importance of stopping the conflict profiteers

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What is needed, instead, is recognition by both parties that violent confrontation is an unnecessarily costly and not very effective way to address the core issues. Just as dueling was abandoned in the nineteenth century as an unnecessarily costly way to deal with interpersonal disputes, the parties must abandon political violence as an unnecessarily costly way to address the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. This will not happen, however, until both sides realize that lower-cost nonviolent alternatives really do offer a more effective way to advance their interests. One step toward this goal involves the development of the skills of principled, nonviolent protest and moral appeal. (Think where this conflict might have gone had Yasir Arafat followed the teachings of Martin Luther King Jr. or Mahatma Gandhi.) Also required is the establishment of legal and political institutions through which the innumerable issues associated with living together can be worked out. Any two-state solution must include some genuinely fair and equitable mechanism for handling the endless stream of often quite difficult and serious disputes that will undoubtedly arise. The absence of such a robust, nonviolent disputeresolution mechanism is likely to force the parties to resort to violent alternatives and again destroy any agreements that are made. In short, peace requires the reversal of Carl von Clausewitz’s famous observation that “war is the continuation of diplomacy by other means.” The converse is also true; peace starts with the continuation of war by other means. Then, over time, the absence of violence and cooperation in nonviolent conflict-resolution processes can lay the groundwork for a deeper conflict transformation and a stable peace.



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References Bar-Tal, D. (2004a, September). Delegitimization. Beyond Intractability. Retrieved January 20, 2006, from http://www.beyondintractability.org/essay/delegitimization/ Bar-Tal, D. (2004b, September). Siege mentality. Beyond Intractability. Retrieved January 20, 2006, from http://www.beyondintractability.org/essay/siege_mentality/ Burgess, H., & Burgess, G. M. (Eds.). (2003a). Beyond intractability: The Website of the intractable conflict knowledge base project. Retrieved January 20, 2006, from http://www.beyondintractability.org Burgess, H., & Burgess, G. M. (2003b, November). What are intractable conflicts? Beyond Intractability. Retrieved January 20, 2006, from http://www.beyondintractability. org/essay/meaning_intractability/ Burton, J. (Ed.). (1990). Human needs theory. New York: St. Martin’s Press. Coleman, P. (2000). Intractable conflict. In M. Deutsch & P. Coleman (Eds.), Handbook of conflict resolution (pp. 428–450). San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Junger, S. (1997). The perfect storm: A true story of men against the sea. New York: W.W. Norton. Also made into a movie of the same name by Warner Brothers in 2000. Kriesberg, L. (2003, October). Nature of intractability. Beyond Intractability. Retrieved January 20, 2006, from http://www.beyondintractability.org/essay/nature_ intractability/ Kriesberg, L. (2005). Nature, dynamics, and phases of intractability. In C. A. Crocker, F. O. Hampson, & P. Aall (Eds.), Grasping the nettle: Analyzing cases of intractable conflict (pp. 65–98). Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press. Lederach, J. P. (1997). Building peace: Sustainable reconciliation in divided societies. Washington, DC: United States Institute of Peace Press. Lederach, J. P. (2005). The moral imagination: The art and soul of building peace. New York: Oxford University Press. Maiese, M. (2003a, July). Dehumanization. Beyond Intractability. Retrieved January 20, 2006, from http://www.beyondintractability.org/essay/­dehumanization/ Maiese, M. (2003b, July). Levels of action. Beyond Intractability. Retrieved January 20, 2006, from http://www.beyondintractability.org/essay/­hierarchical_intervention_ levels/ Myers, S. L., & Myre, G. (2006, March 4). In Moscow, Hamas delegation gets a warning and a crash course in diplomacy 101. New York Times. Retrieved March 21, 2006, from http://select.nytimes.com/gst/abstract.html?res5F4091EFB3F550C778CD DAA0894DE404482 Rosenberg, S. (2003a, July). Humiliation. Beyond Intractability. Retrieved ­January 20, 2006, from http://www.beyondintractability.org/essay/­Humiliation/ Rosenberg, S. (2003b, July). Victimhood. Beyond Intractability. Retrieved January 20, 2006, from http://www.beyondintractability.org/essay/­victimhood/ Rothman, J. (1997). Resolving identity-based conflict in nations, organizations, and communities. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass. Zartman, I. W. (2003a, August). Ripeness. Beyond Intractability. Retrieved January 20, 2006, from http://www.beyondintractability.org/essay/ripeness/ Zartman, I. W. (2003b, September). Ripeness: Promoting strategies. Beyond Intractability. Retrieved January 20, 2006, from http://www.beyondintractability.org/essay/ ripeness-promoting_strategies/

Afterword

As this book was going to press, armed conflict broke out between Israel and Hezbollah—the militant Shiite Muslim movement that is part of Lebanon’s government—on the border of Israel and Lebanon. Several weeks into the conflict—which involved air strikes, rockets, and ground troops—some reporters and analysts started referring to the confrontation as a “war,” even using the term “World War III.” Several Arab leaders and others, including Queen Noor, widow of the late King Hussein of Jordan, named the ongoing Palestinian-Israeli conflict, and specifically the occupation, as the source of the current outbreak of hostilities. These comments and events highlight how resolution of the conflict in the region is inextricably bound with tensions addressed in this book, making the issues presented here that much more important and relevant to address in order to prevent such hostilities and to establish peace. After weeks of combat and, sadly, many casualties, what was called “The 32Day Israeli-Hezbollah War” was halted by a cease-fire only after both sides agreed to the presence of international troops, overseen by the United Nations. In Greece during the outbreak, I heard from some contributors to this book who experienced the tensions firsthand. One was evacuated from her home and another was unable to leave the region, making it not only unsafe personally, but difficult to continue professional activities. As a result of this most recent escalation of the conflict, some groups who had been working towards Israeli-Palestinian cooperation and who are contributors to my companion book on grassroots peace-building projects between Palestinians and Israelis, told me they intended to stay even more “under the radar screen” to avoid any trouble. Others redoubled their efforts to promote peace through

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collaboration. One of these groups, Just Vision, continued to have showings of their “Encounter Point” documentary about everyday leaders who refuse to resign themselves to despair or violence. On the same day as the armed battle broke out, the film was screened at the Jewish Film Festival to a sold-out audience of secular and devout Jewish Israelis, and Palestinians from East Jerusalem and the West Bank. Another group pursuing peacebuilding despite this violent backdrop was the Parents Circle-Families Forum who held over 30 lectures, dialogues, and a training in the Palestinian side of the A-Ram checkpoint. Another effort with similar commitment is the Oseh Shalom ~ Sanea al-Salam Palestinian-Jewish Family Peacemakers Camp, which brought Palestinians and Jews together at Camp Tawonga in Yosemite National Park in the United States over Labor Day weekend in early September 2006—at the same time as the international peacekeeping force was being assembled along the Israel-Lebanon border. This camp is part of a growing, loosely connected family of summer camps for men and women, youth and adults, and families from nations in conflict who refuse to be enemies and who come together for mutual understanding and peace. The names of some of the participating camps, whose members came, are telling: Building Bridges for Peace, Peace Child Israel, Seeds of Peace, Partners in Peace, the Interfaith Encounter Association, Face to Face ~ Faith to Faith, the JapanIsrael-Palestine Student Conference, and even Combatants for Peace. I attended this camp (described at http:/traubman.igc.org/camp2006.htm) along with Muslims, Christians, and Jews of all ages from New York to Seattle in the United States, to Canada, Japan, cities in Israel, and parts of the West Bank like Ramallah and Nablus, as well as from Amman, Jordan. Over four days, we dialogued, listening and learning from each other’s life narratives of pain and hope. In the sweltering sun of day, we encountered each other in workshops about challenging issues like our responses to words such as “terrorist,” “Zionist,” and “Jerusalem.” By blazing campfires at night, we told our stories and sang songs in English, Arabic, and Hebrew. If war represents disengagement, this camping retreat exemplifies engagement, and reflects the spirit of this book, as it brings together peoples from conflicted regions to understand each other, to heal shared pains, and to invent a new shared future of hope and peace. For many, this gathering was especially significant, coming at a time so soon after the war on the Israeli-Lebanese border. Jamil, a Palestinian man, came to the camp from East Jerusalem with his teenage daughter who had been to a peace camp before. “I am full of pride because she has chosen the humanistic way to deal with the conflict,” he told me. “This was something I can do, to come here after this latest conflict with Israel in Lebanon, to heal my own pain from the suffering and conflict, and to hear and to listen to stories and opinions of all people to achieve a solution and peace for every nation.”



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Tamar, a twenty-year-old Israeli, sobbed as she recounted the story of how she found out, just weeks ago, that her good friend, Tom, a young pilot serving in the recent Israeli-Hezbollah war, had died in that battle. The next morning, at a riverside ritual, pairs of us washed each other’s hands in the sacred waters to cleanse all pains both present and from generations and centuries ago. Several teens made statements, and as if in answer to Tamar, Jamil, and all others’ suffering. Eighteen-year-old Susan, a Palestinian from Sakhnin said in her native Arabic (which was translated): “Even though I have heard so many painful stories, if I can alleviate one small part of it, I would do it.” Some cheered at her sentiment; others wiped away tears. At the closing ceremony, with a paper dove flying on a flagpole nearby, the participants all hugged each other. “I will never forget you,” Sonya, a young Jordanian woman said to me, as we looked deeply into each others’ eyes and soul. “We will meet again,” she told me, inviting me to come to her country. “I certainly want to do that,” I replied, hugging her as we both held back tears in amazement from our instant bonding. A Palestinian said to a Jew, as if summing up the impact of the experience, “Meeting you has made me put aside the war that just happened, to see the beauty of the people and how we all care about the same thing—a happy life for our families, and living together in peace. We can do it, one at a time.”

Index

AbD. See Anxiety by disruption Abdullah, Ghassan, 185 Abu Ghraib prison abuses: Arab culture and, 29; Bush apology for, 29 Adams, Gerry, 100 Adaptation: cost of, 44; resilience and, 44 Adessky, Rhonda, 205 Ahmadinejad, Mahmoud, 8 Al Amari refugee camp, 13 Al-Akhras, Ayat, 15–17; farewell video of, 16; media coverage of, 17; relationship status of, 22; Takatka and, 17 Al-Aqsa Intifada, 67, 80 Al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade, 14–16, 18; Salem and, 21 Al-Jazeera, 16 Al-Manar, 16 Al-Nakbah, 8 Al-Quds University, 18, 55, 61 American Psychiatric Association, 38–39 Americans, terrorism and, 83 Amnesty International, 155 Analytic-dynamic theory, 197–98 Anxiety by disruption (AbD), 59 Arab culture: Abu Ghraib prison abuses and, 29; collective and, 226; humor in, 132; negative feelings expression in, 222; passivity in, 222; patriarchy in, 221; psychodynamic theory and, 198;

recognition of Israel by, 8; somatization in, 221; women in, 220. See also Muslim culture Arafat, Yassir, 6, 231; Camp David and, 231; death of, 80, 82 Askar refugee camp, 21 Attribution error, 235 Balfour Declaration, 162, 254 Barak, Ehud, 121; Camp David and, 231 Baron, Dan, 128 BASIC Ph model, 69–70, 185; coping modalities of, 187 Baum, Naomi, 203, 215 Beck Anxiety Inventory, 166 Beck Depression Inventory, 166 Bedouins: adolescent, 138; autonomy for, 137; identity for, 135–36; Israeli, 135– 36 Beer Shiva, suicide attack on, 80 Ben Yehuda Street, bombing on, 194 Berg, Nick, 29 Beyond Bullets and Bombs (Kuriansky), 242 Beyond Intractability Project, 249 Blumenfeld, Laura, 113 Brief Symptom Inventory, 175 Brom, Danny, 68 Bush, George W., Abu Ghraib apology of, 29

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Camp David, 121; Arafat and, 231; Barak and, 231 Caritas Baby Hospital, 53, 57 CCW. See Counseling Center for Women Center for Mind-Body Medicine, 203 Changing Ourselves, Changing the World (Reiss), 112 Children: deaths during Intifada of, 174; endangered, 210–11; fear among, 54; identity for, 200–201; indoctrination of, 28; in Israel, 174; Palestinian, 200–201; parental impact on, 70–71; PTSD in, 71; resilience of, 69–70, 174, 245; safety for, 186, 240–41; stress on, 35; trauma impact on, 186; violence and, 54, 168, 173, 181 CITM. See Collective identity terror management Class structure, content and, 232 Clausewitz, Carl von, 256 Clinton, Bill, 121 Cloke, Kenneth, 112 Collective: Arab culture and, 226; helplessness, 10; individual vs., 218; myth and, 7; trauma, 127–28 Collective identity terror management (CITM), 125 Comedy for Peace, 134 Commission on the Status of Women, 243 Community Stress Prevention Center, 69 Concept of time, 224–25 Conflict: psychological stress and, 156; sociocultural dynamics and, 156–57; transforming cognitions about, 231–32 Control, over lack of control, 68 COPE cards, 186 Coping, 149–50, 178; BASIC Ph model of, 69–70, 185; boundaries for, 68; by Israeli society, 45–46; in Israeli-Palestinian conflict, 45–46; multimodal, 185; resilience and, 89; response range in, 69; stages of, 244; strategies of, 89; styles of, 244 Council of British-Arab Understanding, 244 Counseling Center for Women (CCW), 143, 147 Culture of hatred, 3 Cycle of violence, 183 Daheyah feast, in Muslim culture, 29 Dar Al Harb, 29

Daraghmeh, Hiba, 18–19; educational background of, 18; family reaction to, 19; relationship status of, 22 Death and loss, impact of, 201–2 Declaration of Principles, 33; Israel and PLO signing of, 32 Demonization of other, 183 Depression, terrorism and, 167 Dheisheh refugee camp, 15 Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, 39, 75, 230 Diakonia, 78 Dialog: reconciliation through, 120; use of time in, 123 Disability, 54–55 Domestic violence, 53 Eastern culture, Western culture vs., 197 Education, stereotypes and, 184 EIQ. See Ethnic Identity Questionnaire Eisheh, Darin Abu, 14–15; educational background of, 14–15; family of, 14; farewell video of, 15; Hamas rejection of, 20 El-Sarraj, Eyad, 153 Emergency response: educational framework for, 44; hospitals, emergency rooms and, 44; preparedness for, 44–45 Emergency routine, 67–68, 241; trauma therapists and, 72–73 Emotional symptoms, 76 Empathy: denial of, 5; presocial response and, 5 Enemy, attitudes toward, 187 Ethnic Identity Questionnaire (EIQ), 136–37 Ethnicity, terrorism and, 91–92 Expressive meditation, 211–12 Externalization, psychodynamics of, 235– 37 Family Assistance Center, 241 Fatah Party, 83 Fatherhood, Palestinian, 201 Fear, 86; among children, 54 Fedayeen movement, 27 Feeling Safe program, 175, 180; resilience factors in, 176–77; structure of, 177 Feeling Wheel, 186–87 Feldshuh, Tova, 246 Female genital mutilation, in Muslim culture, 29



Index

Female Palestinian bombers: Al-Akhra, 15–17; Daraghmeh, 18–19; educational background of, 22; Eisheh, 14–15; Idris, 13–14; Jaradat, 19–20; relationship status of, 22; Reyashi, 20–21; Salem, 21; socioeconomic status of, 22; Takatka, 17–18 Feminist movement, in Israel, 143–44 Flashman, A., 184 Flooding therapy, 54 Forgiveness, 244–45 Freedom fighters, terrorists vs., 28 Frontline, 232 Gaza, 14, 27, 161, 174; Israeli disengagement from, 39, 82, 143; Jewish settlers in, 8; Palestinian forced emigration from, 16; Palestinian living conditions in, 32; Women’s Empowerment Project in, 148 Gaza Community Mental Health Programme (GCMHP), 161–62, 166, 210 Gender: equality of, 145–46; mental health and, 221 Ghandi, Mahatma, 110 Ghosh, Abu, 205 Golda’s Balcony, 246 Group intervention, 78 Hadassah University Hospital, 26, 30, 193–95, 205, 240; equal treatment at, 195 Hamas, 7, 83, 107; charter of, 102; Eisheh rejection by, 20; Israel recognition by, 83; January 2006 election victory of, 79, 82–83; Reyashi and, 20 Hamide, Ibrahim, 114 Hatzalah, 50–51 Haviva, Givat, 128 Helplessness: collective, 10; learned, 9–10 Holocaust, 7–8, 101–2, 111–12, 125–26, 128, 207–8 Homelessness, psychological trauma of, 9 Honor killings, 154; Muslim culture of, 29 Human experience, zones of, 184–85 Human rights, 33; Israel’s observance of, 81 Human Security Report 2005, 169 Humiliation: approach-avoidance dynamics of, 100; defining, understanding, 100; home and, 102; Israeli-Palestinian conflict and, 100–104; studies of, 99

Humor: in Arab culture, 132; compassion and, 133; for Israeli-Palestinian conflict, 131 Hussein, Saddam, 14 Hutus, 118 Identity, 126, 131–32, 179–80; for Bedouins, 135–36; characterizations of, 137; ethnic vs. social, 135; Israeli-Palestinian conflict and, 3–4; Jewish, 3–4, 7–8; land disputes and, 136; Palestinian, 3– 4, 9; questions about, 88; religion and, 138; social, 4–6; for teens, 138; threats to, 127. See also Social identity theory IDF. See Israeli Defense Forces Idris, Wafa, 12–14; Hussein and, 14; relationship status of, 22; Takatka influence by, 17 Increased meaning, identity certificate and, 179–80 Interethnic conflict, psychology of, 229 International Association for Applied Psychology, 240 Intervention: education system role in, 181; group, 78; within Palestinian Arab society, 226; preventative primary, 175, 177– 81; revenge and, 114; third-party, 104 Intifada, 10, 39, 117; Al-Aqsa, 67, 80; children killed in, 174; Palestinian society impact by, 35; poverty during, 155; second, 32, 82, 153, 155; teenager impact by, 33–34 Intractability, 249–56; dichotomy vs. continuum of, 250; factors contributing to, 250–55 Islam: health in, 223; lying in, 29; psychological values of, 222 Islamic Attitudes Inventory, 166 Islamic Jihad, 15, 19–20, 107; Jaradat and, 19–20 Israel, 83; Arab recognition of, 8; childhood climate in, 174; coping by, 45–46; distress in, 86; emphasis on present in, 44; feminist principles in, 143–44; Gaza withdrawal by, 39, 43, 82; Hamas recognition of, 83; humiliation experienced by, 101–2; Palestinian Arabs living in, 217; resiliency of, 43; security situation in, 143; stress in, 144; survival tasks for, 149; women in, 145–46 Israel Center for the Treatment of Psychotrauma, 67–68, 203

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Israel Trauma Coalition, 47 Israeli Defense Forces (IDF), 79, 145, 164, 209, 229 Israeli occupation, 39 Israeli State: discrimination by, 139; marginalization by, 139 Israeli-Palestinian conflict: CITM for, 128–29; coping with, 45–46, 67; cycle of violence in, 183; human factor of, 3; humiliation and, 100; humor for, 131; identity and, 3–4; psychological topics related to, 234; roots of, 164; solution to, 255–56; student impact by, 85; twostate solution to, 81 Israeli-Palestinian society, factionalization in, 6 Israel’s Separation Wall: cognitive view of, 77; psychological implications of, 75 Jaradat, Hanadi, 19–20; relationship status of, 22 Jenin, 20 Jerusalem Media and Communication Center (JMCC), 79 Jerusalem Post, 51 Jewish Arab Education Center for Peace, 128 Jewish identity, 3–4, 7–8. See also Identity Jewish State, myth and martyrdom in, 7–8 JMCC. See Jerusalem Media and Communication Center Judaism: Orthodox precepts of, 146; patriarchy within, 146 Judgment heuristics, 233, 235 Jyllands-Posten, 100 Kardashova, Nina, 25 KEDEM project, 117 Kelman, Herbert, 4 Kibbutz, gender equality in, 145–46 King, Martin Luther, Jr., 103, 110–11 Klein, Don, 108 Kol Dati Mafayes. See KEDEM project Korzbyski, Alfred, 232 Kriesberg, Louis, 250 Kuriansky, Judith, 242 Kyi, Aung San Suu, 111 Labor party, 6 Lack of routine, impact of, 200 Lagerlog, Christian, 78 Land: historical claims to, 83; identity and, 136; as narrative, 8

Leaders, as heroes, villains, 6–7 Leadership training, 209 Lederach, John Paul, 255 Lewis, David, 134 Likud party, 6 Maccabim Junction, 15 Magen David Adom, 51, 73 Mandela, Nelson, 111, 128 Martyrdom, 156; Jewish State and, 21–22; motivation of, 21–22; profiling and, 22 Masada, 101, 127 Maslow, Abraham, 77 Mazin, Abu, 80 MECA. See Middle East Children’s Association Media, terrorism and, 91 Mediating Dangerously (Cloke), 112 Meditation: breathing and, 212; expressive, 211–12 Mehane Yehuda Market, 18 Meir, Golda, 4, 144, 245–46; on peace, 30 Mental disorders: health professional attitudes towards, 38; mental health vs., 31; modern vs. traditional models of, 36; negative attitudes towards, 32 Mental health: cultural attitudes and, 35– 37; denial of, 36; family involvement in, 220; gender and, 221; mental disorders vs., 31; of Palestinians, 31–40, 33; practitioners responsibility and, 224; psychosocial factors of, 219; services utilization in, 223; stigmatization of, 35; therapist-client relationship in, 224 Middle East: attitude and behavior in, 3; myth vs. historical fact in, 7 Middle East Children’s Association (MECA), 185 Mindell, Amy, 114 Mindell, Arnold, 107 Mortality salience, 88 Moshe Dyan Center, 139 Mosques, hate talk, violence in, 28 Mt. Scopus Rehab Center, 194 Muslim culture: Daheyah feast in, 29; education in, 61; father’s dignity in, 61; female genital mutilation in, 29; firstcousin marriage in, 55; honor killings in, 29; lying in, 29; marriage in, 55, 62; polygamy in, 29, 219–20; terrorism impact on, 28; women in, 34 Myth: collective, 7; historical fact vs., 7; Jewish State and, 7–8



Index

Nablus, 14, 117 Nagari, Shiri, 193 Najah University, 15 Nasser, Gamal Abdel, 27 New Vision New Reality (Klein), 108 New York Times, 17 Newsweek, 17 Northern Ireland, conflicts in, 108 Norway Institute for Applied Social Science, 33 Number 2 bus bombing, 49 Occupied Territories (OPT), 79–81, 153, 155; Palestinians in, 218–19; population health in, 156 Olmer, Ehud, 242 Oppression Questionnaire (OQ), 166–67 Ordinary madness, 230; everyday experience and, 232; therapy for, 237 Oslo I, II, 32, 80, 165 Other: dehumanizing of, 162; demonization of, 183, 188; recognition of, 103 Palestinian Center for Policy and Survey Research (PSR), 79 Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics (PCBS), 153, 156 Palestinian Counseling Center (PCC), 75, 78 Palestinian Legislative Council, 83 Palestinian Liberation Organization (PLO), 60; Declaration of Principles signing by, 32 Palestinian Ministry of Health, Social Welfare and Education, 210 Palestinian National Authority (PNA), 61 Palestinian(s): checkpoint treatment of, 32; children, 200–201; denial of statehood for, 125; depression, anxiety among, 32; diaspora of, 60; economic problems of, 219; emotional state of, 199; fatherhood and, 301; health intervention decisions and, 226; humiliation experience by, 100–101; identity crisis of, 3–4, 9; Intifada impact on, 35; in Israel, 217; labor division of, 154; lifestyle of, 1979; male absence among, 32; mental health problems of, 31–40, 33; modern vs. traditional treatment for, 32; in OPT, 218– 19; patriarchal culture of, 153–54; political prisoners, 33; politics of, 82–83; psychodynamic theory for, 198; PTSD among, 9, 34, 38; trauma among, 34; un-

employment among, 32–33; as victims, 121; West Bank, Gaza living conditions of, 32; women, 34, 153, 155, 157; youth psychological stress among, 165 Paradise Lost, 59 Parent’s Circle Families Forum, 245 Park Hotel, terrorist bombing in, 242 Passivity, in Arab culture, 222 Patriarchy: in Arab culture, 221; within Judaism, 146; in Palestinian culture, 153–54 PCBS. See Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics PCC. See Palestinian Counseling Center Peace, 255–56; activists for, 119; Meir on, 30; path to, 168–70; reconciliation and, 81–82; research on, 79, 81; Road Map to, 82; through hardship, 56 Pearl, Daniel, 29 Personal conflicts, as activist for reconciliation, 118 PHC. See Primary health care Philadelphia University, 19 PLO. See Palestinian Liberation Organization PNA. See Palestinian National Authority Political Life Events scale, 171–72 Polygamy, in Muslim culture, 29, 219–20 Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), 69, 165, 204; among Palestinians, 9, 34, 38; in children, 71; defined, 9; persistent, 166; from trauma, 127 Potasnik, Rabbi Joseph, 243 Poverty, 54–55; of Palestinian women, 157 Powell, Colin, 18 Prejudice, road rage and, 233 Preventative primary intervention, 175, 177–81 Primary health care (PHC), 38–39 Problem solving: activity for, 178; resilience and, 176 Profiling, martyrs, 22 Prolonged Exposure method, of trauma treatment, 73 PSR. See Palestinian Center for Policy and Survey Research Psychiatry, in PHC, 38–39 Psychodynamic therapy, for Arab Palestinians, 198 Psychological states, 76 Psychologists for Social Responsibility, 229

267

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Index

Psychology: analytic-dynamic theory in, 197–98; of interethnic conflict, 229 PTSD. See Post-traumatic stress disorder Qalquilya District, 75 Qouta, Samir, 153, 162 Rabin, Yitzhak, assassination of, 92–93 Ramallah, 13, 69 Rambam Medical Center, 19 Reconciliation: behavioral obstacles for, 122; cultural obstacles for, 121; decision risk and, 122; dialog and, 120; guiding principles of, 119; interpersonal obstacles for, 120, 122; peace and, 81–82; personal conflicts and, 118; reciprocity and, 122 Red Crescent, 14, 210 Red Cross, 241, 245 Reiss, Gary, 113 Rekhess, Elie, 139 Relationships, terrorism impact on, 87–88 Religion: cultural difference and, 222–23; identity and, 138; terrorism and, 91–92 Religion on the Line, 243 Residual trauma, 89 Resilience: adaptation and, 44; of children, 69–70, 174, 245; coping and, 89; enhancement of, 175; Feeling Safe program and, 176–77; of Israeli society, 43; meaning attribution and, 176; posttraumatic growth from, 245; problem solving and, 176; social support impact on, 176; techniques for, 70 Revenge: cycle of, 107; emotional stages of, 109–10; forgiveness and, 112; interventions for, 114; motivation for, 108; multigenerational, 108; psychology of, 16, 108–9; social injustice and, 109; spirituality and, 109–10; strategies in, 110; transforming, 114, 116 Revenge: A Story of Hope (Blumenfeld), 113 Reyashi, Reem, 20–21; Hamas and, 20; Israeli claims about, 20–21; relationship status of, 22; videotaped statement of, 20 Riponche, Trungpa, 111 Road Map to Peace, 82 Rwanda, 118 Sadat, Anwar, 128 Safety, 200; three levels of, 240–41

Salem, Zainab Abu, 21; Al-Aqsa Martyrs Brigade and, 21 Second Intifada, 32, 82; Palestinian women’s health during, 155; women’s impact by, 153 Security: importance of, 87; in Israel, 143 Seeds of Peace, 56 Self-esteem, 4 September 11, 2001, 25, 93, 133–34, 176 Shahida, 18, 202 Shapiro, Adina, 185 Sharon, Ariel, 6, 82, 162; Temple Mount visit of, 229 Shevah Moffet high school, 245 Shoresh, 205 Sinn Féin, 100 Six-Day War, 174 60 Minutes II, 17 Social identity theory, 4–6, 102; self-efficacy in, 9 Social support: development activity for, 178; map of, 179; resilience impact by, 176; for trauma, 241 Society: disintegration of, 63; Israel vs. Palestinian, 109 Sociosecurity status, impact of, 201 Solidarity, demonstration of, 242 Somatization, in Arab culture, 221 Strength of spirit, 239–40 Stress: biofeedback measure of, 207; conflict and, 156; in Israeli society, 144; of Palestinian youth, 165; psychological, 156; reassurance and, 44; for therapists, 72–73 Students, Israel-Palestinian conflict impact on, 85 Suicide attacks, Palestinian opposition to, 80 Survival, 239 Takatka, Andalib, 17–18; Al-Akhra and, 17; family reaction to, 18; Idris influence on, 17 Tami Steinmetz Center for Peace Research, 79, 81 Tear of Peace, 59 Tel Aviv University, 176 Terror management theory (TMT), 87; research on, 88 Terrorism: for Americans vs. Israelis, 90– 91; cross-cultural effects of, 93; depression and, 167; ethnicity and, 91–92; ex-



Index

posure to, 68–69, 88; legitimization of, 6; local vs. abroad, 85–86; media exposure and, 91; relationships impact by, 87–88; religious affiliation and, 91–92; sympathy for, 167 Terrorists, freedom fighters vs., 28 Therapists: cultural gaps for, 224; emergency routine and, 72–73; Jewish, 225– 26; stress of, 72–73 Therapy: for ordinary madness, 237; political impact on, 225 TMT. See Terror management theory Trauma: among Palestinians, 34; children and, 186; of collective identity, 126; cross-generational collective, 127–28; cumulative, 126; effects of, 213–14; emergency routine and, 72–73; of homelessness, 9; individual reaction to, 72; multilateral, 126; Prolonged Exposure method for, 73; residual, 89; social support system for, 241; sources of, 126; therapists and, 72–73; Type I, II, III, IV, 92, 126. See also Post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC), 128 Tubas, 18 Tutsis, 118 Unemployment, among Palestinians, 32– 33 United Nations, 166, 243 U.S. Food and Drug Administration, 194 U.S. National Center for Mass Fatalities, 205 Valentina’s Nightmare, 232

Victimhood: beyond, 103; of Palestinians, 121 Violence: children and, 54, 168, 173, 181; cycle of, 183; domestic, 53; opinions on, 79–81; in schools, 53; against women, 153–54, 158 Volkan, Vamik D., 235–36 Wafa Idris Group, 14 We Will Never Stop Dancing, 245 Weisel, Elie, 242 West Bank, 14, 174; Palestinian living conditions in, 32; Palestinians in, 199 Western culture, Eastern culture vs., 197 Western society, dynamic thinking in, 197–98 Western Wall, 51 Women: Arab culture norms for, 220; in Israeli society, 145–46; in Muslim culture, 34; Palestinian, 34, 157; patriarchy impact on, 221; programs for, 143, 147; second Intifada impact on, 153, 155; violence against, 153–54, 158 Women’s Center for Legal Aid and Counselling, 155 Women’s Empowerment Project, 148 Women’s Organization of Legal Aid, 154 World Council for Psychotherapy, 240 World Health Organization, 37 World Trade Center attacks, 25, 85, 93, 176, 241 Worldwork seminars, 107, 111, 114, 116 Yair, Elazar ben, 101 Yeshive College, 242 ZAKA, 50–51, 73

269

About the Series Editor and Advisory Board

CHRIS E. STOUT, Psy.D., MBA, is a licensed clinical psychologist and is a clinical full professor at the University of Illinois College of Medicine’s Department of Psychiatry. He served as a nongovernmental organization special representative to the United Nations. He was appointed to the World Economic Forum’s Global Leaders of Tomorrow, and he has served as an invited faculty at the annual meeting in Davos, Switzerland. He is the founding director of the Center for Global Initiatives. Stout is a fellow of the American Psychological Association, past president of the Illinois Psychological Association, and is a distinguished practitioner in the National Academies of Practice. Stout has published or presented over 300 papers and 30 books and manuals on various topics in psychology. His works have been translated into six languages. He has lectured across the nation and internationally in 19 countries and has visited six continents and almost 70 countries. He was noted as being “one of the most frequently cited psychologists in the scientific literature” in a study by Hartwick College. He is the recipient of the American Psychological Association’s International Humanitarian Award. BRUCE BONECUTTER, Ph.D., is Director of Behavioral Services at the Elgin Community Mental Health Center, the Illinois Department of Human Services state hospital serving adults in greater Chicago. He is also a clinical assistant professor of psychology at the University of Illinois at Chicago. A clinical psychologist specializing in health, consulting, and forensic psychology, Bonecutter is a longtime member of the American Psychological Association Task Force on Children and the Family. He is a member of the Association for the Treatment of Sexual Abusers, International, the Alliance for the Mentally Ill, and the Mental Health Association of Illinois. JOSEPH FLAHERTY, M.D., is chief of psychiatry at the University of Illinois Hospital, a professor of psychiatry at the University of Illinois College of Medicine, and a professor of community health science at the UIC College of Public Health. He is a founding member of the Society for the Study of Culture and Psychiatry. Flaherty has been a consultant to the

272

About the Series Editor and Advisory Board

World Health Organization, the National Institute of Mental Health, and the Falk Institute in Jerusalem. He’s been director of undergraduate education and graduate education in the Department of Psychiatry at the University of Illinois. Flaherty has also been staff psychiatrist and chief of psychiatry at Veterans Administration West Side Hospital in Chicago. MICHAEL HOROWITZ, Ph.D., is president and professor of clinical psychology at the Chicago School of Professional Psychology, one of the nation’s leading not-for-profit graduate schools of psychology. Earlier, he served as dean and professor of the Arizona School of Professional Psychology. A clinical psychologist practicing independently since 1987, his work has focused on psychoanalysis, intensive individual therapy, and couples therapy. He has provided disaster mental health services to the American Red Cross. Horowitz’s special interests include the study of fatherhood. SHELDON I. MILLER, M.D., is a professor of psychiatry at Northwestern University, and director of the Stone Institute of Psychiatry at Northwestern Memorial Hospital. He is also director of the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology, director of the American Board of Emergency Medicine, and director of the Accreditation Council for Graduate Medical Education. Miller is also an examiner for the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology. He is founding editor of the American Journal of Addictions and founding chairman of the American Psychiatric Association’s Committee on Alcoholism. Miller has also been a lieutenant commander in the U.S. . . . , serving as psychiatric consultant to the Navajo Area Indian Health Service at Window Rock, Arizona. He is a member and past president of the Executive Committee for the American Academy of Psychiatrists in Alcoholism and Addictions. DENNIS P. MORRISON, Ph.D., is chief executive officer at the Center for Behavioral Health in Indiana, the first behavioral health company ever to win the Joint Commission on Accreditation of Health Care Organizations Codman Award for excellence in the use of outcomes management to achieve health care quality improvement. He is president of the board of directors for the Community Healthcare Foundation in Bloomington and has been a member of the board of directors for the American College of Sports Psychology. He has served as a consultant to agencies including the Ohio Department of Mental Health, Tennessee Association of Mental Health Organizations, Oklahoma Psychological Association, North Carolina Council of Community Mental Health Centers, and the National Center for Health Promotion in Michigan. WILLIAM H. REID, M.D., is a clinical and forensic psychiatrist and a consultant to attorneys and courts throughout the United States. He is a clinical professor of psychiatry at the University of Texas Health Science Center. Reid is also an adjunct professor of psychiatry at Texas A&M College of Medicine and Texas Tech University School of Medicine, as well as a clinical faculty member at the Austin Psychiatry Residency Program. He is chairman of the Scientific Advisory Board and medical advisor to the Texas Depressive & Manic Depressive Association as well as an examiner for the American Board of Psychiatry and Neurology. He has served as president of the American Academy of Psychiatry and the Law, chairman of the research section for an International Conference on the Psychiatric Aspects of Terrorism, and medical director for the Texas Department of Mental Health and Mental Retardation. Reid earned an Exemplary Psychiatrist Award from the National Alliance for the Mentally Ill. He has been cited on the Best Doctors in America listing since 1998.

About the Editor

Judy Kuriansky is a licensed clinical psychologist and adjunct faculty in the Department of Clinical Psychology at Columbia University Teachers College and the Department of Psychiatry at Columbia University College of Physicians and Surgeons. At the United Nations, she is a representative for the International Association of Applied Psychology and the World Council for Psychotherapy, and on the Executive Committee of the Committee on Mental Health. She has led workshops on peace, on crisis counseling, and on her unique East-West intervention programs around the world, from Buenos Aires to Sagar, India, Singapore, Prague, Jerusalem, Dubai, and Tehran, Iran. Trained by the Red Cross and featured in their post-9/11 campaign, she worked in disaster relief after 9/11 at Ground Zero and at the Family Assistance Center, and after disasters around the world, including after the outbreak of SARS in China, bombings in Jerusalem, an earthquake in Australia, and the tsunami in Sri Lanka. A Global Advisory Board member of the Human Dignity Humiliation Studies, she is also a Fellow of the American Psychological Association, a member of the Society for the Study of Peace, Conflict, and Violence, and of the International Psychology division, and cofounder and Featured Psychologist for Advocacy of the Media Psychology division. “Dr. Judy,” as she is fondly called by fans, is a pioneer of radio call-in and Internet advice programs and is well known for her decades of work as a media psychologist for her radio call-in advice shows, television shows, and newspaper and magazine columns. A former television feature news reporter on WCBS-TV, WABC-TV, and other stations, and show host of “Money and Emotions” on CNBC-TV, she is a popular commentator on many news and talk shows including on Fox News and CNN Headline News Showbiz Tonight. Currently, on the

274

About the Editor

Board of the Library of American Broadcasting, she is a past President of the American Women in Radio and TV in New York. Currently also a feature columnist for national and international print media, including the New York Daily News (http://www.nydailynews.com/city_life/advice/drjudy) and China Trends­ Health magazine, she has written for publications from Family Circle magazine and Boardroom Reports in America to the Singapore Straits Times and Japan’s Hanako Magazine and Sankei Shinbun newspaper. Her work has been featured in the New York Times and the International Herald Tribune as well as on CBS News, CNN, MSNBC, and China’s CCTV. She lectures extensively and collaborates with colleagues in Asia and was appointed visiting professor of Peking University Health Science Center and honorary professor in the Department of Psychiatry at the University of Hong Kong. Her many awards include the first International Outreach Award from the American Women in Radio and TV. An expert in relationships and many aspects of psychology including about AIDS, teens, cross-cultural work, psychoeducational models, and disaster relief, she has authored many scholarly papers in professional journals including the American Journal of Psychiatry, the Journal of Clinical Psychology, and the Jour­ nal of Drug Issues, and has contributed to many books, including a chapter on psychological reactions in Access: A Disaster Preparedness Manual and “Working Effectively with Mass Media in Disaster Mental Health” in the Handbook of International Disaster Psychology (4 vols., Praeger, 2005). Her many books include the best-selling The Complete Idiot’s Guide to a Healthy Relationship. A graduate of Smith College, she earned a master’s degree from Boston University and a PhD in clinical psychology from New York University. She spent 10 years as a senior research scientist at the New York State Psychiatric Institute doing crosscultural work in England and the United States on the diagnosis and evaluation of psychiatric disorders and treatments. Kuriansky has presented hundreds of addresses and plenaries, including at the State of the World Forum and to scores of health groups, women’s and men’s groups, and business organizations. Recently she moderated panels at the United Nations at the Department of Public Information/NGO conferences on “Achieving Collective Security: Partnerships to Prevent Fear, Violence, Genocide, and Terrorism through Targeting the Millennium Development Goals” and on “Model Partnerships for Youth: Education, Business, and Technology Projects to Futher Peace, Well-Being, Community Action, and Resilience.” She has also recently lectured on “Psychosocial Aspects of the Israeli/Palestinian Conflict” at the 2005 workshop on Humiliation and Violent Conflict held at Columbia University, and on “Helping Children Cope with the Israeli-Palestinian Conflict” at the 2005 World Council of Psychotherapy conference in Buenos Aires, Argentina.

About the Contributors

Aref Abu-Rabia, PhD, is an associate professor in anthropology and chair of the Department of Middle East Studies at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, Bersheeva, Israel. He is author of four books and numerous scholarly publications on the Bedouin Arab family in modern Israel, education system, traditional medicine, violence against women, as well as family honor in the Middle East. His research focuses on the social and political development of Bedouin Arabs in Israel and Islamic policies in relations with the West. Amal Abusrour, MA, graduated from Al-Quds University in development studies and currently is doing public policy and public administration at the University of North Carolina as part of the Hubert H. Humphrey Fellowship Program. Previously, she has worked for the Reform Program at the Palestinian Authority. Her main areas of interest are civil society, women’s studies and gender, and politics. Abdel hamid Afana, PhD, is the head of the Training and Research Department at the Gaza Community Mental Health Program and the president of the International Rehabilitation Council for Torture Victims. He graduated from the University of Oslo and is doing postdoctoral work in social and transcultural psychiatry at McGill University. He is a scholar who believes in community development and building bridges for peace through health. Nahida ALArja, MA, is a social worker doing psychological counseling at Caritas Baby Hospital in the West Bank and with a rural health team in Nahhaline. She is also a part-time teacher in Al-Quds Open University in Bethlehem. She was born in Beit Jala in the West Bank and earned her BA in social work from Bethlehem University and her master’s degree in psychological/educational counseling from Al-Quds University. Alean Al-Krenawi, PhD, completed his doctoral studies at the University of Toronto and is chair of the Spitzer Department of Social Work at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev and director of the Regional Research and Development Center for the Bed-

276

About the Contributors

ouin Society. He conducts studies in Israel, Canada, Palestine, and other Arab countries and has published numerous book chapters and articles in publications such as the American Journal of Orthopsychiatry, Child Abuse and Neglect, The Journal of Comparative Family Studies, and Social Psychiatry. His books include Arab Ethno-psychiatry, and a coedited book, Multicul­ tural Social Work in Canada: Working with Diverse Ethno-Racial Communities, as well as two new books, Islam and Social Work and Helping Professional Practice with Indigenous People: The Bedouin-Arab Case. Elia Awwad, PhD, is a psychologist at Boston Health Care in Massachusetts. He was the director of the Mental Health Department at the Palestine Red Crescent Society and is currently a board member of the Middle East Peace Research Institute. He coordinates, designs, and implements numerous joint Palestinian-Israeli projects. Ofra Ayalon, PhD, is an Israeli psychologist, family therapist, traumatologist, international author, and trainer in the field of coping with trauma and the effects of terror. She has been a senior lecturer for 35 years at the University of Haifa and is currently the director of Nord COPE Center. Lisa Bagenstose, MSW, is a licensed clinical social worker in New York City. She is currently pursuing her doctorate in psychology at Yeshiva University. Yonah Dovid Bardos is a student at Yeshiva University studying biology. He is founder and president of Yeshiva University’s Medical Ethics Society and is currently creating a network for Jewish intercollegiate events. He spent two years studying at Yeshiva Kerem B’Yavneh in Israel and conducted study groups in Jewish Medical Ethics and Law. Nisreen Boushieh, MA, is a counselor at the Palestinian Counseling Center and the lead investigator of “A Study about the Impact of Israel’s Separation Wall on Palestinian Mental Health: A Study in the Qalqilya District.” She graduated from Birzeit University with a master’s degree in public health. Joyce Rosman Brenner, DSW, is an associate professor at Yeshiva University, Wurzweiler School of Social Work, and the director of their Block Program in Israel. A feminist psychotherapist, she is founder and member of the Board of the Counseling Center for Women in Ramat Gan and Jerusalem, the only feminist therapy center in Israel. She has been active in advocating for many political and women’s issues. Danny Brom, PhD, is the founding director of the Israel Center for the Treatment of Psychotrauma of Herzog Hospital (www.traumaweb.org) in Jerusalem and teaches at the Department of Clinical Psychology of Hebrew University. Among his publications is the book The Trauma of Terrorism: Sharing Knowledge and Shared Care, an International Handbook, edited with Yael Danieli and Joe Sills, published in 2005 by Haworth Press. Persephone Brown is a doctoral candidate in educational psychology at Howard University in Washington, DC. She also has an MA in clinical psychology from the University of the District of Columbia. She has extensive professional experience working with racially and linguistically diverse student populations (pre-K through 9th) as a school psychologist, formerly, as well as a licensed psychometrician, mental health consultant, and elementary teacher, currently. Guy Burgess, PhD, is codirector (with Heidi Burgess) of the University of Colorado Conflict Research Consortium. With a primary interest in intractable conflicts, he codi-



About the Contributors

277

rects the Intractable Conflict Knowledge Base Project (http://www.beyondintractability. org) and the Conflict Resolution Information Source (http://www.crinfo.org). Burgess holds a PhD in sociology and has been involved in conflict resolution research, teaching, and application since 1979. Heidi Burgess, PhD, is codirector (with Guy Burgess) of the University of Colorado Conflict Research Consortium. With a primary interest in intractable conflicts, she codirects the Intractable Conflict Knowledge Base Project (http://www.beyondintractability. org) and the Conflict Resolution Information Source (http://www.crinfo.org). Burgess holds a PhD in sociology and has been involved in conflict resolution research, teaching, and application since 1979. Abraham A. Burstein, is a graduate student at Yeshiva University’s Ferkauf Graduate School of Psychology working on his master’s degree in mental health counseling. He also works as a manager of an independent care facility for persons with mental retardation for the Women’s League Community Residences. He is currently pursuing research on bereavement counseling and on the effects of trauma on daily living. Nonie Darwish, BA, is a Muslim mother, freelance writer, and founder of www. arabsforisrael.com. She lectures throughout the United States and internationally to promote interfaith dialogue and peace and against terror and jihad. She earned her degree in sociology/anthropology from American University in Cairo, Egypt, and worked as an editor and translator at the Middle East News Agency and an interpreter at international conferences. Born in Cairo and raised in Gaza, she is now a U.S. citizen. Her new book is Why They Call Me Infidel: Why I Renounced Jihad for America, Israel and the War Against Ter­ ror (Penguin, 2006). Julia DiGangi, MS, studied foreign service at Georgetown University and is currently a program officer for the American Center for the Washington, DC–based International Labor Solidarity. Her career focuses on international humanitarian issues, labor issues, and crisis management. In psychosocial work overseas with the Catholic Relief Services, a U.S.–based international aid agency, DiGangi has helped develop programs for orphans and vulnerable children affected by the HIV/AIDS pandemic in southern Africa. Salman Elbedour, PhD, is an associate professor in the Department of Human Development and Psychoeducational Studies at Howard University in Washington, DC. His research and clinical interests are focused on psychopathology and abuse and neglect of children. He has published extensively in the areas of cross-cultural and developmental psychopathology of young children and adolescents at risk, particularly those exposed to political unrest, family conict, and school and community violence. James S. Gordon, MD, is the founder and director of the Center for Mind-Body Medicine in Washington, DC, and is a clinical professor in the Departments of Psychiatry and Family Medicine at the Georgetown University School of Medicine. Gordon recently served as 2002 chairman of the White House Commission on Complementary and Alternative Medicine Policy. John R. Graham, PhD, RSW, is Murray Fraser Professor of Community Economic Development at the Faculty of Social Work, University of Calgary, Canada. He and Professor Alean Al-Krenawi have written together on blood vengeance, tradi-

278

About the Contributors

tional healing, polygamous family formation, and other areas related to mental health practice in the Arab Middle East. His most recent book is Helping Professional Practice with Indigenous Peoples: The Bedouin-Arab Case. Ray Hanania is an award-winning Palestinian Middle East analyst, author, and journalist. A founder of Comedy for Peace and longtime peace activist, he uses humor to break through animosities between Palestinians and Israelis in his stand-up comedy performances. Hanania served as national president of the Palestinian American Congress and is the founder of the National Arab American Journalists Association. Michele Hirsch, PhD, is associate dean of academic affairs, associate professor of psychology, and codirector of the women’s studies minor at St. Francis College in Brooklyn Heights, New York. Her interests lie in the area of health psychology, specifically pain, trauma, the mind-body connection, psychoneuroimmunology, and healing. Her chapter on a biopsychosocial perspective on cross-cultural healing appears in the Handbook of Culture, Therapy and Healing (Erlbaum, 2004). Qun G. Jiao, MEd, is a professor and librarian at Baruch College, City University of New York. His major research interest is the psychological aspects of student learning, especially in the effects of library anxiety on college students. He is the author of four books and numerous scholarly articles published in national and international journals of library and information sciences. He holds a master’s degree in library and information science from the University of South Carolina and master’s degrees from Columbia University and Miami University in Ohio. Ibrahim Kira, PhD, is a clinical psychologist and supervisor of the children’s mental health clinic at ACCESS, the Arab Community Center for Economic and Social Services, in Dearborn, Michigan. He has developed a comprehensive taxonomy of traumas and theories of collective terror management and has conducted several research projects on Iraqi refugees and torture survivors. He is currently involved in research projects on the effects of cumulative trauma and trauma types on health and mental health in different age groups, populations, and countries. Jerry T. Lawler, PhD, is a clinical psychologist in private practice in Maryland and teaches the psychology of interethnic conflict at the Senior Institute of the Community College of Baltimore County, Catonsville, MD. He also conducts research and program evaluation on substance abuse and homelessness at the University of Maryland School of Pharmacy in Baltimore. He has spent considerable time in Israel and the West Bank working as a volunteer in the mental health system in Palestine and has collaborated with region researchers on trauma-related mental health problems. Evelin Gerda Lindner, MD, PhD, is a social scientist at the Institute of Psychology at the University of Oslo. With an interdisciplinary and global orientation in social medicine and social psychology, she does extensive research on the concept of humiliation and its role in genocide, war, and violent conflict. Founder of a global network, Human Dignity and Humiliation Studies (http://www.humiliationstudies.org), she is currently developing a theory of humiliation and has recently published a book on the subject for Praeger Press. Isaac Mendelsohn, PhD, is a clinical psychologist in private practice and a specialist in Dialogues for Action between groups in conflict.



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About the Contributors

Vani Murugesan is a doctoral student in social psychology at the University of California, Los Angeles. Her research interests include political psychology, moralpolitical issues, and ideology. Anthony J. Onwuegbuzie, PhD, is an associate professor of education at the University of South Florida in Tampa, Florida. His research topics primarily involve disadvantaged and underserved populations, such as minorities, learning disabled students, and juvenile delinquents. Ruth Pat-Horenczyk, PhD, is a clinical psychologist, director of the child and adolescent clinical services at the Israel Center for the Treatment of Psychotrauma at Herzog Hospital in Jerusalem, and a lecturer at the Department of Psychology at Hebrew University. She received her PhD in psychology from Hebrew University and completed postdoctoral training at the University of California in San Diego. She is conducting a nationwide screening project identifying post-traumatic stress disorder in children and adolescents and providing school-based group interventions. Gary Reiss, PhD, LCSW, is in private practice and a senior teacher in the Process Work Institute, Portland, Oregon, in their master’s program in conflict facilitation and organizational change. He teaches internationally, including in Israel, England, Canada, and Australia, and has worked on issues related to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. He is the author of five books, Changing Ourselves, Changing the World; Beyond War and Peace in the Arab Israeli Conflict; Vital Loving; Angry Men, Angry Women, Angry World; and Leap into Living. Avraham Rivkind, MD, is a medical doctor at the Center for Emergency Medicine at Hadassah Hospital in Jerusalem. Anat Shoshani, MA, is currently a PhD candidate in the Department of Psychology at Tel Aviv University in Israel. She received her BA in psychology from Haifa University and her MA in child clinical psychology from Tel Aviv University. Her doctoral thesis examines the efficacy of therapeutic programs in reducing anxiety produced by media coverage of terrorism. Michelle Slone, PhD, is currently director of the Child Clinical Program in the Department of Psychology at Tel Aviv University. Her ­postdoctoral and further academic work was conducted at the University of Cape Town in South Africa. Her work involves psychological, educational, and community aspects of effects of political violence and terrorism on children and the promotion of resilience. Barbara Sofer, a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania and Hebrew University, is an award-winning Jerusalem-based writer, motivational lecturer, and filmmaker. A columnist for the Jerusalem Post, she has authored articles in the New York Times, the Boston Globe, Parents, and Hadassah Magazine, and has authored six books, the latest being a guide to “practical spirituality” titled At Home with God. As spokesperson and Israel Director of Public relations for Hadassah, the Women’s Zionist’s Organization of America, she has worked with the world’s top news teams to report about terror and humanity. Roney Srour, PhD, is a clinical psychologist who works in the Israeli and the Palestinian mental health systems. He earned his degree from Hebrew University of Jerusalem and wrote his dissertation on father-preschooler relationships in the Palestinian community in Jerusalem. He wrote his MA thesis about Arab university students’ attitudes toward women.

280

About the Contributors

Yahel Tsaidi teaches Talmud and Jewish law at the Harkham Hillel Hebrew Academy and is studying for his master’s degree in education in Los Angeles. He did undergraduate studies at Yeshiva University, majoring in Jewish studies and minoring in psychology, and studied at Yeshivat Har Etzion and Yeshivat Hakotel in Jerusalem. Katherine VanderKaay is a master’s degree student in political science at Wright State University, conducting research for her master’s thesis, “Girls Interrupted: The Female Palestinian Suicide Bombers.” She completed her undergraduate degree in women’s studies at Hollins University in Roanoke, Virginia, and currently lives in Dayton, Ohio. Jeff Victoroff, MA, MD, is associate professor of clinical neurology and psychiatry at the Keck School of Medicine of the University of Southern California. His early career focused on the relationship between the mind and the brain, especially in patients with neurological conditions. Since September 11, 2001, he has been studying the deep origins of human aggression and violence with a special focus on the political psychology of conflict. Neil Ryan Walsh, MA, earned his master’s degree at the New School for Social Research in New York City, concentrating on mental health counseling and substance abuse. A former assistant coordinating NGO activities at the United Nations, he is an alumnus of the Ronald E. McNair Scholars Program, and recipient of the National Security Education Program’s David L. Borin scholarship and the Freeman Asia scholarship for study abroad at Sophia University in Tokyo. He currently works for the Japan Exchange and Teaching Program and is the coordinator of the Japan for Equal Dignity Program for the Human Dignity and Humiliation Studies Network.