We received a call about an incident in a small village about fifteen minutes away. We jumped in the car and rushed over, but by the time we’d arrived, a Palestinian man with his arms zip-tied was being arrested by Israeli soldiers. The other villagers informed us that the man had been attacked by settlers, and they asked us to go and wait for him on the road where the police were holding him.
The man was released shortly after and was left on the side of the highway. We brought him home to learn that he had been given a court date scheduled for two days later. After speaking with the man and the other villagers to see if we could help, we were invited inside to sit—an invitation that would typically include tea and food, but since Ramadan had recently arrived, we just enjoyed the escape from the hot sun.
No matter how many times I see it, it’s always a painful experience to see someone tied up and carried away by a foreign army. But a few hours later, we were back in the village of our Palestinian hosts, enjoying a lovely Iftar, the fast-breaking meal that takes place every night of Ramadan. I broke my fast by saying kiddush, the Jewish prayer welcoming in the Sabbath, over a non-alcoholic beer. Only one word could be used to describe the evening: wholesome.
This emotional whiplash is the defining characteristic of Hineinu, which is Hebrew for “we are here,” and the name of a project started by the Center for Jewish Nonviolence. For three months, the project places international Jewish activists in Palestinian villages in Masafer Yatta to engage in full-time solidarity work. Masafer Yatta, also called the South Hebron Hills, is a region in the West Bank plagued by constant military and settler violence. A large portion of the region is currently facing mass displacement by the Israeli military.
Over the course of Hineinu, it’s impossible not to form deep friendships with the Palestinians you’re assisting and living with. Indeed, this is a part of the project’s radical intention. I was a member of Hineinu two years ago, and I still drive down from my home in Jerusalem to visit. These long-standing relationships are part of the reason I felt compelled to spend a week helping the current Hineinu cohort, and while joining them, I was struck by an irony underlying the entire situation.
Like many American Jews, I grew up being told that setting foot in any Palestinian neighborhood, whether it’s in Israel or in the Occupied Territories, would be life-threateningly dangerous. While I had unlearned this xenophobia long before joining Hineinu, taking the step to live in a Palestinian community for three months was a subversive act against this racist rhetoric.
The Israeli regime doesn’t want meaningful relationships between Israelis and Palestinians. It doesn’t know how to react to true unity between Jews—some of them with Israeli citizenship—and Palestinians.
Before I started my time on Hineinu, multiple people asked if I was concerned about the safety risks of living in a Palestinian village. The deep irony is that I and other Hineinu members faced violence all the time, but from Israeli soldiers and settlers, not our hosts. I had rocks thrown at me, I was attacked and arrested, and last year’s cohort faced military night raids. Three months living with Palestinians is more than enough time to realize that the fear many rightwing Jews have is misplaced, and egregiously so.
The mere existence of Hineinu throws a wrench in the narrative of those who peddle the idea that entering Palestinian communities will result in certain death. But beyond that, it’s a subversive act against the status quo.
The Israeli regime doesn’t want meaningful relationships between Israelis and Palestinians. It doesn’t know how to react to true unity between Jews—some of them with Israeli citizenship—and Palestinians. This is why there’s an apartheid wall and an oppressive permit regime; this is why marriage is controlled by religious authorities, effectively making intermarriage illegal; and this is why the school systems within Israel are segregated between Jews and Arabs.
This separation effort has, unfortunately, been incredibly successful. And it’s particularly apparent now that hundreds of thousands of Israelis are protesting to “save Israeli democracy,” which critics have aptly pointed out has never existed. Indeed, Palestinian citizens of Israel—many of whom do not feel represented in the protest movement or its rhetoric—have widely been absent from this wave of protests.
Hineinu is arguably the strongest pushback against this separation effort that the left has, and it reminds us of two things: The first is that it is perfectly safe to enter Palestinian communities. The second is that a little co-existence, backed up by true solidarity and co-resistance, can go a long way.