The Watson Fellowship requires its Fellows to submit a final report exlaining what we have gained from our fellowship year.  I am reprinting the report I submitted to them below as an appropriate conclusion to all that I have learned and how I have changed over the last year.  Enjoy

Before I left for my Watson journey, even before I graduated from Colgate University, I was talking to one of my favorite professors about my plans, excitement and anxiety for the coming year. On that day, she said something to me that I understood but could not quite conceptualize at the time; however, upon the completion of the Fellowship, I have realized the breadth of her wisdom: “You are going to learn more about yourself and who you really are in the next year than most people can hope to learn in a lifetime.”

This idea is the embodiment of Thomas J. Watson Fellowship’s mission, as a year of self-discovery, and one I have known since the early days of the application process, even if I was never able to imagine the details of how/when/where/why I would “find myself.” Thinking back on the past 12 months, I cannot exactly pinpoint a moment, place or trigger when my identity became shockingly clear, but I know that in the past few months there has been a fundamental awakening in me that leaves me feeling more like myself every day. This realization happened in phases, and I believe that both research and personal issues contributed to how I now feel. In this final report, I will try to trace my transformation into “myself” through a few formative research and personal moments from the past 12 months, and reflect on the lessons these have taught me.

My research, particularly in Morocco for the first three months, was inherently personal. My goals in that country were to learn about the Jewish community and its recent history, to juxtapose my family’s Moroccan history, traditions, mentality and culture with those Jews still living in Morocco and to judge if I understand my identity more from it. Aside for meeting and building relationships with the members of the Moroccan Jewish Community’s Organization, and religious and cultural leaders, I also attended events and religious services at synagogue every week for Shabbat and holidays, in order to meet as many different kind of Moroccan Jews as possible. The most striking aspect of their culture that I observed was the extremely high level of Moroccan hospitality offered by most Moroccan Jews and Muslims that I met, especially now that I can compare it to other countries. The Jewish community in Morocco numbers less than 3,000 people and the congregations of each synagogue (of which there are dozens) are even smaller; so, when I sat in synagogue alone, everyone knew that I was a foreigner. In many situations that may have been (and in fact was) awkward, but not in Morocco. They all wanted to know who I was and why I was there, and once they determined that I was “safe,” they invited me to their house for a meal almost unanimously. There were actually incidences when Moroccan women argued over who would take me home that day.

After three months in Morocco, it became clear that this hospitality is a very rigid cultural norm that transcends religious and ethnic affiliation, and also hit very close to home for me. The Moroccan-Israeli side of my family, in traditional fashion, respects and upholds the importance of this norm; any person is welcome at any of our houses, usually even without an invitation. This was not just familiar and comfortable to me, particularly during a difficult adjustment period at the beginning of my journey, but also helped me realize that there are definitive aspects of my personality, character and identity that are inextricably embedded in Moroccan culture and values. The value system that is at the root of the Moroccan hospitality holds loyalty and devotion to family and religion paramount, a cultural trait that has always been of the utmost importance to me and always set me apart from my fellow Americans and American Jews.

On the other hand, there were some aspects of the Moroccan culture and mentality with which I have never and could never identify. Witnessing and experiencing the tangible manifestations of the oppression of women for the first time was shocking, even after studying it at Colgate for many years. Simple, daily events are shaped by this cultural norm, and the most prevalent and telling is the café culture in Morocco and elsewhere in the region; most cafes are de facto all-male establishments where a woman would feel uncomfortable enjoying a cup of tea or coffee. The cultural attitude of woman as inferior intellectually and socially, and their resulting segregation, pervades the mentality of many of the Moroccans that I met, Jewish and not. I have one Jewish friend who grew up in Morocco, but moved to Strasbourg, France to attend boarding school when he was 13. After university and a year of work, he decided to try to move back to Morocco and has since moved back to France. Because he is an educated, Westernized, and relatively secular Jew, his opinion on men and women sitting together in synagogue surprised me. He proposed and I accepted the traditional argument; men and women cannot sit together in synagogue because it would cause distractions when people should only focus on prayer. I then offered him a compromise; what if the women’s section was positioned next to the men’s and separated with a barrier (instead of above it on another floor), with both having equal access to the bima (stage)? He could not accept this solution and could not explain why.

As the granddaughter of an ardent feminist (one of the first women Fulbrights in Paris) and an independent and strong liberal woman, this is one part of Moroccan culture that is not reflected in my personality and character. On the other hand, gender and racial equality are prominent American values and my time in the Middle East taught me to appreciate the freedoms and opportunities granted to women and minorities, and their cultural acceptance among Americans, whereas beforehand I never considered them out of the ordinary. The societal acceptance of the value of liberty was never demonstrated more clearly than the definitive moment of the 2008-2009 Watson Year: Barack Obama’s victory. The fact that a person of such a diverse background could rise to the most powerful position in the world speaks wonders to American progressivism, and caused immense pride in me as people of all walks of life exclaimed, once they found out I am American, “Obama, good!” and offered a thumbs-up. In making these comparisons all year, I actually reconnected to my American identity and I believe I will be able to appreciate these liberties once in America.

The most personally and professionally formative event of my Watson trip was Operation Cast Lead, the Israeli military campaign in Gaza in January. At the time, I was living in Cairo and decided to postpone a trip to Jordan until the situation in the region improved because of family pressures and advice from knowledgeable Egyptian friends. For the first time in my life, I experienced one of the worst recent outbreaks of Israeli-Palestinian violence not only somewhere anti-Israel, but actually at the heart of the Arab world. From the first moment of the Operation, it was on the forefront of everyone’s mind and lives in Cairo; televisions in restaurants were always playing the news, which was always reporting about Gaza, demonstrations were held often, people in the street were asking why Obama did not care that children were dying, bloggers were blasting the Egyptian government for not opening the Rafah crossing to refugees (and some consequently were getting arrested), and endless petitions and activities were circulated and advertised on the expatriot list serv of which I was a member.

As the invasion drudged on I became obsessed with collecting information. I spent countless hours in front of the television in my new apartment switching between BBC and Al-Jazeera in English, and reading every news article I could find. And I could not believe all that I was seeing and hearing; Israel, a country I always considered home and morally superior than any other nation, was becoming a source of shame and disgust for me. It was a deeply emotional time; I had a strong feeling of not only shame and disgust, but most interestingly, guilt. In some ways, I felt responsible for the atrocities I was witnessing on television, and in others I was outraged that the Israeli government would commit what I began to view as a masssacre. A few weeks after the fighting ended, I wrote a blog post trying to reconcile these different feelings and rationalize what it means for my search for identity.

This post (entitled Falling from Greatness, After the Israeli Defeat of Gaza at www.cecisibony.com) represents what is, in hindsight, my formal ideological break with the policies of the Israeli government and the values and opinions of my family, causing quite a stir. Recognizing the potential for influence of the media, I argued that Gaza “represents Israel’s final break from the moral, Judaic, and peace-loving principles that characterized its founding as a country.” As a Zionist and a Jew, I proclaimed it was my tradition and duty to question Israel’s policies, which, after much research, have rendered Israel morally inferior than in the past, and even less secure than before the Operation.

Some of my former professors and friends (particularly in Egypt) called my post “defining for my character,” while my parents bordered on tears as they told me they do not recognize their own daughter. I have come to realize that in some ways, they were right; my whole life my political beliefs were fundamentally shaped by the historical narrative I learrned from my parents, my Jewish private school and American media. By experiencing Gaza immersed in the “other” perspective, and living and learning from Arabs all year, I have been able to finally understand both sides of the conflict and formulate my own beliefs based on all of this information.

Probably more important than my political opinions, per se, was how Gaza and the emergence of these feelings and beliefs empowered me to finalize my independence from my parents, which began with my application and acceptance of the Watson Fellowship and ended not only with an ideological division, but also a financial one. The implications of this for my identity are evident; not a believer in mutual exclusivity in this case, I am a pro-Palestinian, pro-peace Zionist, who supports the Jewish Israeli and Arab Palestinian people, not necessarily the policies of their governments, in their pursuits of a better life for themselves and their children. My experiences on a beach camp in Sinai, witnessing Arab-Israeli coexistence unlike elsewhere in the world, confirms for me the possibility of the realization of this goal.

Months later, my arrival in Istanbul was very strange. I stepped out of the taxi from the airport and onto the most popular and hip pedestrian walkway in the city, and I was overwhelmed by the level of development, its resemblance to Europe and by how easy it was just to find my hostel. I had returned to the first world and not only did it feel supremely weird, but I did not like it. As I readjusted to the West and Istanbul as a city began to grow on me, I could not shake the feeling that my level of comfort in Turkey did not compare to the comfort I felt in each Arab country I visited. In a conversation with the same professor from Colgate that originally told me I was an Arab for the first time, she put it simply: “Ceci, its because you are an Arab.” Again, I realized the extent of her simple wisdom; my heart was not in Turkey the way it had been in the previous countries because I could not identify with Turkey the country, people and culture. The coldness and closed nature of the Jewish community was just one characteristic of Turkey with which I did not identify. Interestingly, the Muslim Turks maintain the same level of hospitality and openness that I love from the Arab world, but I still could not manage to feel at home there. I have come to realize that this feeling is something intangible and inquantifiable; sometimes the heart recognizes familiarity that the brain cannot reason.

After all of these experiences, the lingering question remains: who am I? The most important lesson I learned this year is that trying to define oneself by the things or ideas that describe you is an oversimplification of the complexities of human emotions and identity. I learned that ultimately, “me” is the amalgamation of how I feel, with what/whom I identify, and the things and ideas that describe me, all of which is dependent on my inherent personality. The fact that my brother and sister, who have identical backgrounds and upbringings, do not identify the same as I do helped me realize that first and foremost, I am ME, a dynamic and complex creature that changes over time and thrives on my own independence, the importance of family and humanism.

The implications of my new-found understanding of myself extend to all aspects of my life. Now, I understand that my innate passions, interests, and competence render me more suited to studying cultural Anthropology for my Master’s degree than International Relations, as I had previously thought. I have determined that I would like to use my skills, openness and broad understanding of history and cultures to pursue cultural coexistence among Arabs and Israelis as a grassroots movemont toward a positive peace. I have realized that all of my life decisions until this point have indicated that I prefer a challenging way of life versus the ease of living that characterizes most Western societies, and that this inclination even applies to my romantic life and the type of person with whom I would be most compatible. As I learn about myself and comprehend my own intricacies more every day, I am finding that my life path is being illuminated by my heart’s desire, and I have the Thomas J. Watson Foundation to thank for that.

On April 8^th, 2009, the Jews of Cairo gathered for a Passover Seder, just as Jews were doing all across the globe. However, only at this seder was the story being told set in the same place as our seats- a somewhat surreal feeling. I was both nervous and excited for the seder because it was my first Jewish event with the Cairo community and a very important holiday to me.

The seder was held in a back room of the Adley Synagogue, organized by Mrs. Weinstein and her staff. In addition to about 100 Jews of Egyptian and American backgrounds, the American Ambassador to Egypt was in attendance, and the seder was led by a Rabbi from Israel. The seder was conducted mostly in English because most of the Egyptian (and probably American) Jews do not read or understand Hebrew. It proceeded normally, even with the search for the afikoman, but without the singing and merriness/intoxication that I normally associate with Passover seders.

The most interesting thing I noted at the seder was the presense of a few women, with their children, muhagabaat, or wearing the Muslim head covering. I was sitting next to an American woman who has been living in Cairo for four years and is very familiar with the members of the Jewish community; she explained to me that these women, or their mothers, were Jewish, but they converted to Islam for their marraiges. They still attend the seder every year out of honor and respect for their mothers. Another reason, more cynical but perhaps just as true, was provided; apparently, Mrs. Weinstein calls all of the people on her “list” of Jews in Cairo, no matter their current religion, and implores them to attend the seder because if she can maintain high attendance at events, she can continue to petition money for the community from donors and the Joint Distribution Committee.

I spent my seder sitting amongst the lovely remaining Egyptian Jewish women of the community, and I enjoyed their spunk, liveliness and stories. I bonded with one woman because she also strictly observed the laws of Kashrut, and we took turns “stealing” the few items of Kosher-for-Passover food for one another.

All in all, it was a surreal, interesting and moving Passover seder, but I missed many of the traditions of home.

My friend Lydia sent me this interesting article about the Jewish community in Iran, and I thought it may be relevant to post here…

What Iran’s Jews Say

Esfahan, Iran

At Palestine Square, opposite a mosque called Al-Aqsa, is a synagogue where Jews of this ancient city gather at dawn. Over the entrance is a banner saying: “Congratulations on the 30th anniversary of the Islamic Revolution from the Jewish community of Esfahan.”

The Jews of Iran remove their shoes, wind leather straps around their arms to attach phylacteries and take their places. Soon the sinuous murmur of Hebrew prayer courses through the cluttered synagogue with its lovely rugs and unhappy plants. Soleiman Sedighpoor, an antiques dealer with a store full of treasures, leads the service from a podium under a chandelier.

I’d visited the bright-eyed Sedighpoor, 61, the previous day at his dusty little shop. He’d sold me, with some reluctance, a bracelet of mother-of-pearl adorned with Persian miniatures. “The father buys, the son sells,” he muttered, before inviting me to the service.

Accepting, I inquired how he felt about the chants of “Death to Israel” — “Marg bar Esraeel” — that punctuate life in Iran.

“Let them say ‘Death to Israel,’ ” he said. “I’ve been in this store 43 years and never had a problem. I’ve visited my relatives in Israel, but when I see something like the attack on Gaza, I demonstrate, too, as an Iranian.”

The Middle East is an uncomfortable neighborhood for minorities, people whose very existence rebukes warring labels of religious and national identity. Yet perhaps 25,000 Jews live on in Iran, the largest such community, along with Turkey’s, in the Muslim Middle East. There are more than a dozen synagogues in Tehran; here in Esfahan a handful caters to about 1,200 Jews, descendants of an almost 3,000-year-old community.

Over the decades since Israel’s creation in 1948, and the Islamic Revolution of 1979, the number of Iranian Jews has dwindled from about 100,000. But the exodus has been far less complete than from Arab countries, where some 800,000 Jews resided when modern Israel came into being.

In Algeria, Tunisia, Libya, Egypt and Iraq — countries where more than 485,000 Jews lived before 1948 — fewer than 2,000 remain. The Arab Jew has perished. The Persian Jew has fared better.

Of course, Israel’s unfinished cycle of wars has been with Arabs, not Persians, a fact that explains some of the discrepancy.

Still a mystery hovers over Iran’s Jews. It’s important to decide what’s more significant: the annihilationist anti-Israel ranting, the Holocaust denial and other Iranian provocations — or the fact of a Jewish community living, working and worshipping in relative tranquillity.

Perhaps I have a bias toward facts over words, but I say the reality of Iranian civility toward Jews tells us more about Iran — its sophistication and culture — than all the inflammatory rhetoric.

That may be because I’m a Jew and have seldom been treated with such consistent warmth as in Iran. Or perhaps I was impressed that the fury over Gaza, trumpeted on posters and Iranian TV, never spilled over into insults or violence toward Jews. Or perhaps it’s because I’m convinced the “Mad Mullah” caricature of Iran and likening of any compromise with it to Munich 1938 — a position popular in some American Jewish circles — is misleading and dangerous.

I know, if many Jews left Iran, it was for a reason. Hostility exists. The trumped-up charges of spying for Israel against a group of Shiraz Jews in 1999 showed the regime at its worst. Jews elect one representative to Parliament, but can vote for a Muslim if they prefer. A Muslim, however, cannot vote for a Jew.

Among minorities, the Bahai — seven of whom were arrested recently on charges of spying for Israel — have suffered brutally harsh treatment.

I asked Morris Motamed, once the Jewish member of the Majlis, if he felt he was used, an Iranian quisling. “I don’t,” he replied. “In fact I feel deep tolerance here toward Jews.” He said “Death to Israel” chants bother him, but went on to criticize the “double standards” that allow Israel, Pakistan and India to have a nuclear bomb, but not Iran.

Double standards don’t work anymore; the Middle East has become too sophisticated. One way to look at Iran’s scurrilous anti-Israel tirades is as a provocation to focus people on Israel’s bomb, its 41-year occupation of the West Bank, its Hamas denial, its repetitive use of overwhelming force. Iranian language can be vile, but any Middle East peace — and engagement with Tehran — will have to take account of these points.

Green Zoneism — the basing of Middle Eastern policy on the construction of imaginary worlds — has led nowhere.

Realism about Iran should take account of Esfehan’s ecumenical Palestine Square. At the synagogue, Benhur Shemian, 22, told me Gaza showed Israel’s government was “criminal,” but still he hoped for peace. At the Al-Aqsa mosque, Monteza Foroughi, 72, pointed to the synagogue and said: “They have their prophet; we have ours. And that’s fine.”

—

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I am not permitted to travel to Iran during my Watson year, but it is evident that it would be a relevant and extremely interesting trip for me. According to Cohen’s description of Iran, it seems that the country’s attitudes and ideas toward its Jewish population reflects that of Morocco primarily, and even Tunisia. They seem to differentiate between “Jew” and “Israeli,” whereas most Egyptians (from experience) and Palestinians (from watching documentaries and the news) do not.

When the majority of the population of a country truly understands and internalizes this distinction, the lives of the “authentic” Jews living in that country appear to be easier and they can engage more openly as Jewish. Moroccans and Iranians exemplify this, identifying “their Jews” as distinct or “good” (as an Iranian man that I met in Egypt explained) and disassociating them from the Israeli government and its policies, particularly towards the Palestinians.

In the case of Egypt, perhaps it was the blurring of this line, exacerbated by incidents like the Lavon affair in 1954 (where Egyptian Jews were implicated in Israeli espionage), that triggered the behavior in Egypt that compelled most of the Jewish population to migrate.

However, ascertaining and learning the cause(s) of this differentiation are more fleeting, but my hypothesis is that proximity to Israel and engagement in direct war and violence may be just two of the factors.

Anyone have any other ideas?

Those who know me well are aware that I am not exactly the “outdoorsy” type. As such, I had yet to take a camping trip to the desert in the last six months, which is a popular activity for tourists and backpackers in every country I have visited. Finally, this past weekend, two friends and I rented a Land Cruiser and hired a Bedouin guide named Badry from the Bahariya Oasis to tour and camp in the Black and White Deserts.

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Bahariya does not exactly match the images I once associated with oases: a beautiful pocket of green palm trees, grass and access to water surrounded on all sides by endless rolling hills of dry, hot sand. As an oasis, Bahariya is certainly greener than the desert around it; it has multiple springs all over the oasis that bring hot and cold water to the town and cause plant growth, and therefore, the viability of human life in the oasis. However, as a town per se, I would not characterize it as beautiful, rather similar to other smaller, run-down North African towns in the desert. However, its beauty transcends the physical because Bahariya provides the Bedouin people, who have roamed the desert for centuries, the provisions for happy and fruitful lives.

Badry is somewhat of the “big boss” in Bahariya. As it is a small town, most of its inhabitants are part of the same tribe, clan, family etc., and he is well-known by everyone in the oasis and in the desert. His father began the desert-trekking-tourism business in Bahariya in the 70s and 80s, and Badry is now the family patriarch and owns many businesses in the Oasis (sounds like a family I know very well). Tourism and taking foreigners on tours of the desert is the least profitable of his businesses, but he still does it because of his genuine love for time spent in the desert and his eagerness to show off his home to others. His website is www.badrysaharacamp.com

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After we arrived and ate a deliciously simple Bedouin lunch of fresh vegetable salads, cheeses, tuna and BBQ potato chips (haha!), we headed out in our 4×4 to a small mountain in the Black Desert. When gazing out on this desert, one observes, intermingling with the beige color of the sand and stones, a layer of black, the residual color of the volcanic action on the many rolling hills and mountains. I actually climbed to the top of this one hill/mountain and was able to appreciate the full scope of black-and-beige in much of the Black Desert.

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From there, we headed to sites in the White Desert, so named because the residual salt of its oceanic state has left the terrain white. The interesting feature of this desert is the oddly-shaped figures dotting its landscape. Reminiscent of structures one would find on the ocean floor, these large stone and sand structures sometimes resemble mushrooms, and even animals (One famous site is “The Tree and the Chicken.”). They all shine a beautiful bright white, and when you look out over the White Desert, all you see for miles are these brilliant white figures.

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We set up camp in the White Desert, and within 10 minutes of parking the two cars, a nice Bedouin-style sitting area was erected, complete with rugs and mats lining the floor for seating and low tables for eating. As we took this time to wander the desert a bit and take photos, our Bedouin guides began preparing dinner. All of these supplies somehow had been neatly packed in the car, but we never felt their presence. All of a sudden, we had a full, tasty meal in front of us, prepared with simple tools, simple ingredients and the fire they built. We learned how to make Bedouin tea. It’s very good, and we decided to buy some to take home. This trip has afforded us the opportunity to practice Arabic, speaking with Badry about his life and Bedouin life in general.

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The most incredible part of the trip for me, besides the striking beauty of the desert, is that for centuries the Bedouins have tamed this barren and almost unlivable land and really respect and appreciate the natural wonders or beauty of their homeland. According to Badry, he has been wandering and driving around the vast desert from the outskirts of Cairo, west to Libya, and south into Sudan since he was a little boy, and knows its ins and outs like the back of his hand, without a map or signs and with very few roads.

We were so impressed with our trip to Bahariya that we are planning another, larger and longer trip to the Siwa Oasis and the desert surrounding it. Can’t wait!

My friend Zach, who came on the trip, is an excellent photographer and really did a nice job capturing the beauty of the desert. You can check out his photos at http://www.flickr.com/photos/rockman1881

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To the Reader:

I wrote this piece a few weeks ago, and it has recently been brought to my attention that it had some flaws. Based on the intellectual and much-appreciated feedback I have received (thanks Grandma), I have edited this post to address these concerns. Namely, that by not mentioning or condemning Hamas, I am complicit in viewing the conflict from albeit a new, but one-sided, point of view. I want to make clear that I do not sympathize with Hamas, and I only did not mention their immorality and horrific tactics because I thought it was evident; erroneous, I now realize, so I have changed the piece accordingly. Lastly, it was observed that my original post lacked historical perspective, which I have now tried to inject, using examples of Israel’s strategies toward both Hizbollah and Hamas in recent years. I hope this edited version represents a more balanced and supported approach for my arguments, and I encourage any and all questions, comments, criticisms etc. Thanks for reading.

Ceci

I have been watching Israelis and Palestinians fight for years, and in those years, I have seen endless footage of carnage and bloodshed: the charred skeleton of an Israeli Dan bus after an attack by a suicide bomber, fragile Palestinian villages decimated by an Israeli airstrike, and images of both Israeli and Palestinian children and civilians dead or grieving for loved ones. I thought I was used to these heartbreaking stories, or at least as much as one could be, until the latest round of Israeli-Palestinian violence broke out about 3 weeks ago. Something has felt different this time around, and this is my attempt to pinpoint what that something is.

The first is obvious: perspective. One of my major motivations for accepting the Watson Fellowship and traveling around the Middle East and North Africa for a full year was exactly that—a more balanced point of view. My entire life I was surrounded by Zionists, infused with Zionist principles, and even living in the USA, a pro-Israel country. I myself am certainly a Zionist, but one who believes that Zionism will never be completely realized until Israel exists peacefully and securely, as a Jewish homeland. I have spent my academic career educating myself in ways that will make me equipped to achieve peace for the country I love, and in my opinion, without true understanding of both sides and perspectives of a conflict, one can never be a just arbiter for peace.

So here I was, five months into my journey to learn “how the other side feels and lives,” when yet another Israeli-Palestinian conflict began. Living in Cairo, the heart of the Arab world, I have been exposed through its media and residents to the “Arab perspective,” and it has been utterly enlightening. This is the first time I am experiencing this conflict in an environment that is evidently and tangibly pro-Palestinian. People on the street, in shops, and in taxis have made this the topic of conversation by asking me, “What do you think about all the people dying in Gaza?” I am a member of an ex-patriot email list server where anti-Israeli articles, announcements for rallies and demonstrations, and discussions have pervaded. I receive the Al-Jazeera channel in English in my apartment and have watched, for the first time ever, news reports with a pro-Palestinian slant. The effects have been massive; I have been more emotionally connected and upset by the humanitarian atrocities I have witnessed over the last three weeks, than at any other point in my life.

However, is it possible that the amount of sadness I have felt is solely the result of my new perspective on how the Arabs react to this violence? While this new point of view is a factor, I believe the true source of my discontent is my personal realization that this war represents Israel’s final break from the moral, Judaic, and peace-loving principles that characterized its founding as a country.

Let me be clear: I am a Zionist who loves Israel as much as, if not more than, my own home country of America. However, I am fed up with those people who label anyone that is even remotely critical of Israeli policy “anti-Semitic” and conjure up Holocaust images in an attempt to negate such criticisms through fear of a recurrence of the genocide. This manipulation of Holocaust lessons is not only appalling, but detrimental to the future of Israel, as we are currently witnessing. As Jews and as Zionists it is our communal duty, based on our Jewish and democratic tradition, to think critically about the actions of the Israeli government, and hold it accountable to the morals and values that are supposed to characterize the nation.

In my opinion, an Israeli military, with some of the most advanced intelligence in the world, which bombed countless United Nations buildings, schools and hospitals “by accident,” is NOT representative of the Jewish and Israeli traditions I know and love. According to the Torah, if you were to learn only one lesson in order to lead a Jewish life it would be the following: Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.( Particularly after the Exodus from Egypt, statements in the Bible specifically speak to learning from one’s own negative experiences. Laws pertaining to the peaceful coexistence with strangers who live in your midst, even though not believing in your God, are mentioned as early as the story of Noah. All that was expected was the observance of all humanitarian laws. Unfortunately, this idiom has evaporated from the psyche of the Israeli leadership, as they spent the last 3 weeks treating Palestinian civilians as Hamas had been treating Israeli civilians. Perhaps, this is the reason for my melancholy; Israel, the country I held on a pedestal for its morality as a refuge for a people persecuted for thousands of years, has fallen from greatness in my eyes, and that devastates me.

The most unfortunate aspect of Israel’s succumbing to this inhumane strategy is that it happened in vain. Israel’s stated objectives for the most recent incursion was to end Hamas rocket attacks into southern Israel, an understandable and justifiable reason for action. Hamas, a notorious terrorist organization that has absolutely no regard for human life, neither Israeli nor Palestinian, has been terrorizing southern Israeli cities since the Israeli withdrawal from Gaza. By concealing their rocket fire under the cover of civilians, Hamas deliberately and inhumanely endangers the lives of “its” citizens.

In trying to secure southern Israel from this nearly impossible conundrum- protect Israeli civilians or target Hamas’ fighters hiding amongst Palestinian civilians- Israeli leaders have managed to forget the purpose and principles of Israel’s founding fathers, and have preserved the same archaic military means past leaders used to achieve those principles. In the Six Day War and the most recent war on Gaza, the Israeli military targeted the sources of potential aggression toward Israel: the Egyptian air force and structures covering rocket launchers, respectively. The only problem is that in the 21st century, 20th century strategies do not apply. The enemy has changed- Israel is no longer fighting state actors that make decisions based on rational self-interest (i.e. 5 Arab countries in 1948, Egypt in 1956, Egypt and Syria in 1967, Egypt in 1973). The new enemy is terrorism, and, if anything, defined by its irrationality; therefore, former military tactics simply do not bear the same fruit of success.

A closer examination of the Bush administration’s “War on Terror” proves that terrorists cannot be fought solely physically; the use of a single-faceted, military approach in the American invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq has only perpetuated the cycle of violence and created even more terrorists in the wake of their destruction of civilian lives. The recent improvements in the fight against Al Qaeda in Iraq only further demonstrate this argument; Al Qaeda operatives in Iraq have been almost completely eradicated as a result of the Iraqis own decision or determination. When faced with a choice between Al Qaeda members marrying into and terrorizing their families, or living under an American occupation, they chose the latter. However, in many parts of the world, particularly in the Gaza Strip, Waziristan and the mountainous border region between Afghanistan and Pakistan, the choice is much less clear. Fundamentalist madrassas are currently the only source of welfare, education, and religious connection in these regions, as was the case in Gaza before Hamas defeated Fatah in Gaza elections in 2007. Their appeal is obvious since people’s decisions are easy when motivated by the humanistic and Darwinian desire to provide basic needs, like food and shelter, for one’s family.

After the 2006 Israeli attacks on Hizballah in southern Lebanon, the latter’s popularity in the Arab world soared with every Arab death. Palestinian refugees’ perception of Hizballah as their protector and provider of services, enhanced all the more by the Israeli retreat and Hizballah’s declared victory, legitimized the terrorist organization, increased its appeal to future terrorists, and enabled its election to the Lebanese Parliament. Hamas mimicked Hizballah’s strategy of civilian-shields for rocket fire because in their irrational calculations, a Palestinian civilian death garners increasing support for their cause, the true source of their power, strength and appeal. With each deat, Gazans, Arabs and even Iran increase support, recruitment and sympathy for Hamas, empowering Israel’s greatest enemies and tipping the regional balance-of-power and public-relations scales in their favor.

Greg Mortenson founded the Central Asia Institute in 1996, a non-profit organization devoted to promoting and supporting community-based educational facilities in remote regions of Pakistan and Afghanistan. In his New York Times Best-selling book Three Cups of Tea: One Man’s Mission to Promote Peace, One School At A Time he describes his experiences observing the rise of the Islamist movement in these regions. He argues that the rise and spread of this extremist movement was the result of the population’s lack of resources, education, food and welfare services. As the CAI began to sponsor and organize the building of schools by local populations, he witnessed the decline of the appeal of such madrassas; unfortunately, the CAI could not keep up with the millions of dollars pumped into this movement from state and non-state actors. The takeaway lesson, however, is that the improvement of the daily lives of those who are underprivileged and vulnerable to extremist movements, through the provision of welfare and education, is the most effective way not only to stem the tide of terrorism, but also to prevent the recruitment of terrorists in the future. Finally, this lesson must be learned and internalized by Western governments and Israeli leaders, so they can begin to combat the sources and root causes of the “War on Terror” successfully.

In Israel and the West’s dealings with Hamas, bombs and mortar attacks only exacerbate the appeal of extremism because every Palestinian death plays into Hamas’ hands. After Palestinian reconstruction and rearming after this recent round of violence in a few years (and do not be fooled by the US-Israel agreement to halt weapons smuggling into the Strip), Hamas will emerge stronger than ever because as the anger and defiance of Palestinians, Arabs, and less moderate Arab states grow, Hamas’ recruitment and popularity and the Arab states’ support will increase to all-new levels.

Therefore, I propose coupling military with economic and social strategies that tangibly demonstrate to the Palestinians that an alliance with Israel, the West and Fatah will improve their daily lives. What if Israel and the West, via Fatah, built infrastructure rather than destroy it, preparing it for economic integration and mutually beneficial economic trade agreements, rather than siege and devastation? I hypothesize that those Darwinian instincts would emerge again, and Gazans will choose the method that tangibly provides the most security and services to their families. If Hamas were to prevent these activities inside Gaza, the Western alliance will win its first battle for the “hearts and minds” of the Palestinians, finally weakening Hamas’ position. However, economic reconstruction is only the first step; restoring schools and providing a free and universal neutral education, achieving an ideological reunion of Gazans with Fatah, institutionalizing rules of law and order and distribution of aid and welfare, and the creation of a free press are all necessary to achieve a unified and legitimate Palestinian negotiating partner for peace.

Iran, one of the greatest threats of this era, has forged an alliance of convenience, based on common enemies, with these Islamic Fundamentalist organizations, providing them funding in a bid for regional leadership. However, by identifying the root causes of extremism and counteracting them as outlined above, the Western alliance will be able to figuratively kill multiple birds with one stone; as an alliance with the West demonstrates tangible benefits and Gazan lives improve, Hamas’ and Iranian appeal and strength will wane, and empower Fatah as the Palestinian voice and Israeli partner for peace.

If anyone were to ask me now if I am pro-Israel or pro-Palestine my answer would be this: I fall in the pro-people, pro-peace camp because only from here can we start to benefit the lives of both sides.

During my time in Casablanca (on and off for the last 3 months) I was lucky enough to find a hotel room that has a TV with one English-speaking channel, the BBC! This is really great news for me, not only because I am a news-junky, but also because it was extremely important to me to follow the US Presidential election this fall. And the BBC has not disappointed; they run segments, stories and updates on the election with every broadcast and have done so for the last 3 months. However, it is really their “slogan” that captures the essence of what I will refer to as the “international perspective” on the current race for President of the United States: “US Election 08: the vote that affects your world.”

Sometimes it saddens me to not be home for such a momentous event in the history of my country; I imagine groups of friends across the country gathering at a bar to watch the presidential debates, followed by their own continuation of the debate over countless beers afterwards.  I wish I could simply observe, for the first time in my life, an America that is actually engaged in its political process. However, my election fall has been the far from dull; the people I meet in Morocco fill the void created by my physical absence in the US with thoughtful questions, concerns and debates, and have certainly given me a unique election experience and a rare outlook on the race from the international perspective. It is as if the BBC’s slogan has really captured the mentality of the people in Morocco- Moroccans, Muslims, Jews, tourists, migrants- because the widespread interest and knowledge of the US election by these people is truly extraordinary. They certainly are conscious that the outcome will affect even their every day lives, and for that reason, they jump at the chance to discuss the issues with a real live American (me!)

And for those of you who know me, you know how I relish such opportunities. In the following paragraphs I will outline the election trends I have observed, along with interesting stories on the subject. But first, I want to make clear how often I encounter a person who wants to “talk politics”- everyone from fellow travelers in hostels, to taxi drivers, to the guy trying to sell you a tajine pot from his shop in the medina, to families that have invited me for dinner. Even people who do not speak English, and who I begin conversing with in my simple Arabic, can easily communicate the question on their minds… “McCain or Obama?” And my answer is always the same, and the majority of the time responded to with a smile or a thumbs up: “Obama, of course.”

I have only met 1 Moroccan Muslim McCain supporter in 3 months. I believe this is pretty telling, considering the fact that I talk to almost everyone I meet and most of the time these discussions include politics. The overwhelming majority of Moroccans are devout Obama supporters and anticipate that an Obama presidency of the Untied States will help ease the US-Muslim-world divide, which they argue was created by George W. Bush. They view McCain as another conservative war-monger, with his sights set on the Muslim and Arab worlds; in other words, a McCain administration would only continue George Bush’s foreign policy. Needless to say, Moroccans hate Bush, and I think that their support for Obama is as much an anti-Bush/anti-McCain stance, as it is pro-Obama and his policies. His message of “change” has certainly resonated here, as Moroccans believe that Obama will enact policies that will restore America’s previously auspicious international image and, perhaps most importantly, policies that end the unfair targeting of the Muslim world (this week’s events provide the case in point- the US attacks on both Syria and Pakistan are considered just more examples of a Bush policy that labels all Muslims and Arabs as terrorists, without regard to national sovereignty, sound intelligence, or the safety of civilians).

During my travels I have also met many tourists, particularly from Europe, and interestingly enough, their opinions on the subject echo those of Moroccans. However, there is one story that has stood out in my mind over the last few months, and even helped me move from undecided to “team Obama.” While in my backpacker’s hostel in Chefchaouen in the beginning of September, I met a very nice couple from Spain (Marc is from Madrid and Julia from Barcelona). I hit it off with them not only because they appreciated that I knew Spanish (even though we spoke in English because theirs was excellent), but also because I have lived in Spain in the past. At one point, Marc says, “OK, so I have to ask you something because I am very interested in the politics going on in America right now. And I’m sure you get this question a lot… but really, who do you want to win and who do you think is going to win?” At the time, I was still undecided, so I told him so, and I told him that it was incredibly close and I did not think anyone could speculate until Election Day. I went on to tell him that I doubted Obama’s chance at victory because there is a large portion of Americans who are still racist and would never vote for a black man.  These people are often overlooked because they reside outside of the cities/coast. He responded that this was his biggest fear and then explained to me why it was essential for the US’s status as a super power for Obama to win: he argued that the US’s biggest current problem is the deterioration of its international image. With international respect for the US diminishing, suspicion rising, and hatred towards Bush at sky-high levels, the US loses the support of its allies and its leverage in diplomatic and economic negotiations. Therefore, he continued, the United States needs a new face to persuade the rest of the world that Bush’s US is a thing of the past and that someone can return the US to its historically good name and image. Because the rest of the world is actively looking for and seeking this new American face, they have embraced Obama as the one who can provide it.

This argument of the significance of America’s reputation to the global population was only further confirmed to me throughout the last 3 months. Moroccans and Europeans do not hate America or Americans, per se, because they recognize that the policies of one president in 8 years do not reflect the American population or history as a whole. While they do strongly oppose Bush and his policies, they ultimately believe that America, still the world superpower, can return to its position of esteem and grace, and will if the right leader is in power. The major idea contributing to this conviction is the foreign belief that Obama will pull troops out of Iraq.

The last and rare demographic worth discussing is the Jewish Moroccan perspective on the election. As I spend a lot of time dining with Jewish Moroccan families, the issue of the election inevitably arises at almost every meal. Jewish Moroccans almost unanimously support McCain. When I ask why the answer is usually, “Because he is a Muslim/Arab and will be bad for Israel.” They also normally make a passing reference to Bush’s “great” policies towards Israel. While none of this is, in fact, true, it conveys the real power of Jewish bubbemaisers; most of the Jews I know have received that chain email that claims that all Jews should not support Obama because he is a Muslim and will destroy Israel (usually coming from a Jewish grandmother). The Jewish Moroccans truly believe this to be fact, and are still not convinced after I justify Obama as my choice for President.

I, of course, begin by explaining to them that Israel, and foreign policy in general, is the most important issue for me, particularly as a Zionist born to an Israeli father with a significant amount of family living in the country. I would never vote for someone that would threaten Israel because of my personal and professional ties, interests and stakes in the country. I then try to politely explain to them that their facts are wrong. Obama is not and has never been an Arab, first of all. Neither is he a Muslim; his father was a Muslim from Kenya (not an Arab country), who divorced his mother when Obama was 2 and only ever spent 1 month with his son throughout his life. Aside for the fact that both of his parents are confirmed atheists, Obama joined the United Church of Christ and has been a practicing Christian for over 20 years. Furthermore, I try to explain, even if he was a Muslim, the United States is a democratic country that not only preserves the separation of church and state, but also whose decisions are not solely made by 1 person. In order to be a threat to Israel he would have to challenge a core American value that is pro-Israel, as well as many institutional apparatus that protect both American Jews and Israel.

Then I usually ask them why they think Bush was good for Israel, to which I have yet to receive a concrete response with tangible answers. This opens the door for my favorite topic of conversation, and I reply, “Let’s consider events in Israel since Bush began his don’t-ask-don’t-tell policy towards it: we lost a war against Hezbollah in the North, which empowered them to become democratically elected members of the Lebanese parliament; Hamas took over the Gaza Strip and now has a stronghold to launch attacks against Israel, which also caused a weakening in the position of Abbas and Fatah, Israel’s sole negotiating partner for peace; the peace process is worse off now than 8 years ago, particularly as Israel continues to build the settlements in the West Bank, which will be the largest hurdle in final settlement negotiations; and finally, Bush’s policies in Iraq caused the instability in the region that allowed for the rise of power and arrogance of Iran, Israel’s most formidable enemy and threat.” Sometimes I tell them that all of these things happened because Bush turned a blind eye to Israel, allowing it to do whatever it pleases, which is bad for the country in the long run (as these examples demonstrate). Israel needs an American President with vision, foresight, strength and respect in order to truly address its core security issues and work towards the peace in the region that will ultimately benefit everyone.

It’s hard to believe that this long-fought campaign is coming to an end, and the world will finally have the answer to its long-awaited question: “What direction is the US and the world heading towards?” Regardless of who wins, I do not envy them; they have MONUMENTAL tasks ahead of them, cleaning up the mess that the Bush administration left behind. I just hope that Americans and foreigners alike do not set their expectations too high and get disappointed. The undoing of America’s image and the current global economic and political instability took 8 years to achieve, and will take at least as many to mend. May G-d help their soul.

My friend Dan Reich also wrote about the election on his blog…  http://danreich.com/?p=73 The video at the bottom is really cute:)

Hey everyone!

Welcome to my website and thanks for checking in Over the course of the next year I will be blogging right here about all of my travels, research and other stuff.  So, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to post comments!

I am including a link here to the Watson proposal that won me the fellowship! Enjoy:)

http://www.cecisibony.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/personal-statement-watson.doc

http://www.cecisibony.com/wp-content/uploads/2008/07/watson-proposal.doc

ps I want to say thank you to Mike Coyne for creating and helping me to maintain this website.  It looks awesome, and we know if I would have done it, it would have had stick figures on it.  THANKS!!!