Standing in the Shoes of the ‘Enemy’

By Hasan Zillur Rahim

In Harper Lee’s classic “To Kill a Mockingbird,” the precocious Scout Finch
recalls something her father told her once: “Atticus was right. One time he
said you never really know a man until you stand in his shoes and walk
around in them.”

I have been thinking of this fatherly wisdom and its dawning on a daughter
ever since the breakout of the horrific fighting in Israel and Lebanon.

Have Hezbollah (and Hamas and other warring factions for that matter) and
the Israelis ever considered standing in each others’ shoes, I wondered, and
walked around in them?

When a Hezbollah fighter launches a rocket toward Haifa, can he imagine
being in the shoes of an old woman in that city shuffling in her modest
kitchen to prepare a meal, unaware that death is swooping down on her?

At the precise moment that an Israeli pilot presses a button to unleash a
missile over Lebanon, can he imagine being in the shoes of a child in an
apartment building playing with his toys, oblivious that he is about to be
blown into smithereens?

I think not.

There is not only a moral failing here, but also a failure of the
imagination.

And as long as these failures persist, the Middle East violence we are now
witnessing will continue with terrifying regularity.

But let’s face it: It is supremely difficult for most of us to stand in the
shoes of our enemies, much less walk around in them.

We have neither the morality nor the imagination for it, no matter how
virtuous and mentally agile we may think ourselves to be.

Yet there is a way to get to that exalted state, a prelude if you will, and
that is to engage in honest self-examination, to ask: “Before I point my
finger at the ‘other,’ let me consider my own culpability.”

Although this too is a rare trait, there are inspiring practitioners who
represent a beacon of hope in our darkening world.

Consider this from Ze’ev Maoz, a professor of political science at Tel Aviv
University (Haaretz, July 25):

“There’s practically a holy consensus right now that the war in the North is
a just war and that morality is on our side. The bitter truth must be said:
this holy consensus is based on short-range selective memory, an introverted
worldview, and double standards … Israel is using excessive force without
distinguishing between civilian population and enemy … We invaded a
sovereign state, and occupied its capital in 1982 … Approximately 14,000
civilians were killed between June and September of 1982 … On July 28, 1989,
we kidnapped Sheikh Obeid, and on May 12, 1994, we kidnapped Mustafa Dirani
… Hezbollah crossed a border that is recognized by the International
community. That is true. What we are forgetting is that ever since our
withdrawal from Lebanon, the Israeli Air Force has conducted
photo-surveillance sorties on a daily basis in Lebanese airspace … border
violations are border violations. Here, too, morality is not on our side …”

Now consider this from Youssef Ibrahim, a distinguished Egyptian-born
reporter (New York Sun, July 14):

“Suddenly, war is upon us in the Greater Middle East. A coalition of Arabian
Muslim jihadists has set the trap. Using Israeli soldiers as hostages, the
Iranian, Hamas, Muslim Brotherhood, and Syrian jihadists are enveloping the
region, opening a two-front war with Israel, delivering Lebanon into
Hezbollah’s grip, checkmating vital American interests, and bringing Iraq to
the brink of civil war … Hobbled by fifth columns of Muslim fundamentalists
within, the Arabs themselves cannot take on Syria or Iran … If Israel goes
for the Syrian jugular, Iraq will get a break from the unending stream of
insurgents from the Syrian border, and Lebanon could stand up to Hezbollah.”

Partisans may rant and rave but these are bold voices that challenge the
status quo and the reflexive response, compelling Jews and Muslims alike to
look into their hearts to seek paths to enduring peace.

Just as we are convinced of the goodness of our conviction, we have to
recognize that our “enemies” are also convinced of the goodness of their
conviction. “Legitimate grievance” is not the monopoly of any one side. In
spite of the historical baggage, or perhaps because of it, both the
Palestinians and the Israelis have claims upon it.

As long as Arabs derive their pride only from fighting Israel, the Arab
world is doomed. As long as Israel thinks technological and military
superiority are the final arbiter, Israel is doomed.

That is why the bold voices emanating from Israel and the Arab world stating
difficult truths are so important. They point toward a different
possibility, a possibility of replacing unending warfare with meaningful
peace.

Only when such voices reach critical mass can we hope for the antagonists to
make the effort to stand in each others’ shoes. Only then perhaps will an
Israeli understand the anguish of Lebanese Prime Minister Fouad Siniora when
he says, “Are we children of a lesser God? Is an Israeli teardrop worth more
than a drop of our blood?” Only then perhaps will an Arab understand the
grim determination of an Israeli pollster when he says, “We are fighting for
our survival. This time there is no other motive than Israel’s existence.”

Perhaps when that stage is reached will peaceableness toward enemies become
a practical idea.

I leave you with the final scene from “To Kill a Mockingbird.”

The Finch family, and residents of sleepy Maycomb County, Alabama, have gone
through a traumatic event. Irrepressible Scout is narrating her view of the
event to her father. She is particularly wonder-struck by the breakdown of a
stereotype.

“They all thought it was Stoner’s Boy messin’ up their clubhouse an’
throwin’ ink all over it an’ they chased him ‘n’ never could catch him
‘cause they didn’t know what he looked like, an’ Atticus, when they finally
saw him, why he hadn’t done any of those things …. Atticus, he was real nice
…”

His hands were under my chin, pulling up the cover, tucking it around me.

“Most people are, Scout, when you finally see them.”