My dear friends,
My wife, Mayrvo, and I live in a pretty international building. Two of our favorite neighbors are “A—“, who is Palestinian, and his wife “B—–” who is English. “A—“, a freelance news cameraman, is a sweet and generous person. B—–” is just as wonderful and remarkable as “A—-“. She’s a translator for the UN and was transferred temporarily to Beirut earlier this year. “A—” can easily freelance in that part of the world. They’ve been raising their two teenage Palestian-English-American daughters in NYC and they are still here in their apartment in our building. This family exemplifies the celebration of our diversity that is the other side of the fear of our differences, the fear a part of some primitive memory that seems to be built into us. Tribalism!
The path to overcoming the fear of our differences is through learning to see the beauty of our differences and to celebrate them. We are immersed every day in the diverse beauty of nature, trees, flowers, clouds, in our families and friends, and yes, in our dogs and cats. That beauty is truth. I believe that if we don’t grow beyond this primitive fear we will not survive. I choose to believe and to live in optimism. I believe “A—“, “B—-” and their two sweet Palestian-English-American daughters are a taste of a beautiful future, a celebration of life.
Here’s a short note from “A—“.
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“Hi Johndavid,
I am so glad you are safe and well and that Mary is far away from the horrific reality of New York. We are glued in front of TV here and very anxious and worried about you and all our friends and neighbors. I feel particularly sad for New York and the destruction of the WTC and massive loss of life. I was scheduled to arrive to NYC on the 20th but now I have to postpone it. The General Assembly will be postponed anyway. Your comment about the Middle East is absolutely right. There is a real anger here about the blind support of America to Israel. The daily pictures of Palestinians, mainly children, getting killed by the Israeli troops with American weapons and the houses destroyed and land confiscated generate so much anger and hatred. In addition to that the sanctions and daily bombing of Iraq with so many people getting killed and not even reported in the press give the idea of a worthless Arab blood. So no wonder if someone somewhere is looking for revenge.
Love, “A—”
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(An important note about the email above.) As “A—” wrote those words the second intifada had been raging through the middle east for nearly a year. Also, lest there be any misunderstanding, “A—” was not advocating revenge. As a news professional he was just giving me news about the mood in Beirut. In the big picture Israel is not the point. As I post this today it is Syria and ISIS that are raging, along with Israel, Russia, Iran, Saudi Arabia, and the United States. We’re ALL part of the raging. I’ve included his letter as part of this collection because I want to suggest a way forward. Live peace! Did your neighbor put up a political sign for the presidential candidate you hate? Practice forgiveness! Live peace!
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My sister Pati Flowers forwarded the following email to me from Robert Rindler, an old friend of hers.
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When all else fails, fantasy must prevail
Peace, Bob Rindler
Subject: Bomb them with clothing, food and medicine. Bomb them with butter, bribe them with hope.
A military response, particularly an attack on Afghanistan, is exactly what the terrorists want. It will strengthen and swell their small but fanatical ranks.
Instead, bomb Afghanistan with butter, with rice, bread, clothing and medicine. It will cost less than conventional arms, poses no threat of US casualties and just might get the populace thinking that maybe the Taliban don’t have the answers. After three years of drought and with starvation looming, let’s offer the Afghani people the vision of a new future. One that includes full stomachs.
Bomb them with information. Video players and cassettes of world leaders, particularly Islamic leaders, condemning terrorism. Carpet the country with magazines and newspapers showing the horror of terrorism committed by their “guest”. Blitz them with laptop computers and DVD players filled with a perspective that is denied them by their government. Saturation bombing with
hope will mean that some of it gets through. Send so much that the Taliban can’t collect and hide it all.
The Taliban are telling their people to prepare for Jihad. Instead, let’s give the Afghani people their first good meal in years. Seeing your family fully fed and the prospect of stability in terms of food and a future is a powerful deterrent to martyrdom. All we ask in return is that they, as a people, agree to enter the civilized world. That includes handing over terrorists in their midst.
In responding to terrorism we need to do something different. Something unexpected… something that addresses the root of the problem. We need to take away the well of despair, ignorance and brutality from which the Osama bin Laden’s of the world water their gardens of terror.
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I posted Robert Rindler’s words on the in-house email page for the NYC staging company I worked for at the time and sparked a fairly heated discussion. The owner and chief executive of the company, wisely I think, allowed the heated debate to continue for a while. Emotions were, of course, running high. My post below continued the discussion.
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An interesting dialog has erupted from my “different kind of war” email. My colleagues and friends Jason and Freddie have really heated things up, a couple of hawks fluttering around in a flock of doves, feathers ruffled and flying. We’re all a little raw and scared right now and we react to that in different ways. I fear that if we react in the way that Jason and Freddie suggest we’ll make things worse. More violence will create more violence, especially violence motivated by the desire for revenge. But Jason and Freddie fear that if we react in the way that I suggest we’ll make things worse. We’ll invite further violence by suggesting that we’re weak. Yes we’re all grieving and we’re worried about the future. And yes, I feel anger. I think Jason and Freddie’s approach will threaten my world. I feel deeply that they are wrong. I feel that their beliefs are potentially dangerous. They feel deeply that I am wrong. They feel that my beliefs are potentially dangerous. But I know Jason and Freddie and I know that they are good people. And I know that they want the same thing I do. They want nothing like this to happen ever again. They want peace on earth. They want their wives and children to live without fear. If I tell them they are morons instead of just disagreeing with them then I stop communication. They will learn nothing from me. I will learn nothing from them. No change, no growth, no awakening into new possibilities will be possible. In my self-righteousness I will push us apart.
I hope that people can understand that I can criticize my country, that I can say that my country has caused immense pain in the past and is still engaging in political and economic policies that border on criminal and, at the same time, that I can still believe deeply that we can be the hope of the future. We are a nation of all the peoples, of all the cultures of the world. When we are at our best, we are an example of what is possible and, I hope, a vision of the future, a world community living in peace. I also need to remind myself that those of my fellow citizens who are enthusiastically preparing for war ultimately want the same thing I do. They also want to live in a world where war is no longer an option, where all people are free, a world where we realize that our differences enrich us. We all want the same thing. So let’s not only keep the dialog open, let’s honor it. We’re all talking about things we feel deeply about. Let’s continue to speak from our hearts and forgive each other for doing the same.
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Life slowly returned to normal in NYC. Mayrvo returned from Australia about two weeks later. I picked her up from the airport and we drove into Manhattan in the exquisite weather that framed 9/11. As we drove across the Triborough Bridge, Mayrvo said, “Something’s burning!” “Ground 0,” I replied, “It’s still smoldering.” But for weeks, months, long after any smoke was visible from uptown, if the wind was right, you could still smell Ground Zero burning. Madness in paradise. A morgue was set up in a vacant lot next to Bellevue where I often walked the dog. A city block of big white air conditioned tents and trailers. A year later this temporary morgue was still there as they continued in their effort to identify remains. Cassidy and I would walk by quickly and quietly. The air conditioning was not enough to mask the odor of death. And a year later, whether I was walking the dog or on my way to work in some other part of the city there were still flyers taped and tacked everywhere with photos and descriptions of missing fathers, mothers, lovers and friends. “Have you seen my daddy.”