I spent Sunday early afternoon at the Haganah Museum, near Independence Hall on Rothschild Blvd. It seems that nearly every museum in Tel Aviv, except for the art museums of course, has a military/War of Independence theme. Comparing the Haganah Museum with the Jabotinsky Institute, the two could seamlessly blend together in my mind. Both used a mixture of video, photography, historical artifacts, and “staged displays” (i.e. trying to set the mood with set pieces, dummies, etc.). Both had a rather somber interior color palette, very military in steel grays, dark greens, browns, blacks. The lighting too contributed to the solemn tone, with well-lit sections interspersed with greater swaths of shadow.
There was also a general feeling of hagiography, with these early military figures, units, and operations holding a hallowed place in Israel’s mythos. At the Haganah Museum, for example, not only is the former house of Eliyahu Golomb – one of its founders and first leader – incorporated into the physical body of the museum, but there is also a separate room (“shrine”) commemorating his contributions to the Israeli state. With its huge portrait of Golomb dominating the room as you enter, I had the feeling of meeting the Wizard of Oz!
I have no problem with the creation and perpetuation of a national narrative – it’s a necessary part of state-building, a kind of socio-political “glue.” But what strikes me is how simplistic and even paternalistic these narratives are. As much as they are meant to educate and inspire, they only succeed in flattening a country’s people into paper-doll caricatures – and how much more so its (perceived) enemies!
Being immersed in Israel’s national narrative has given me a glimpse at what US patriotism was probably like until the 1950s or so (and strands of it remain unchanged today). The story is so bland, so one-dimensional. There are the glorious “founding fathers” (Washington or Ben Gurion, Jefferson or Menachem Begin). There are the “bad guys (be they Indians, Arabs, or Brits). There are the brave citizens fighting the bad guys. And then there is the eventual, hard-won but never-really-doubted dénouement – the good guys triumph over the bad. Here, for instance, is a quote from one of the exhibits at the Haganah Museum:
“From July 1948 onward, the [Haganah was] continuously victorious over the enemy until the end of the war.”
The Enemy. To whom does this refer? All the Arabs of Palestine? What a terrible, dehumanizing way to refer to an entire people. Even if these people are your opponents, to brand them “the enemy” without qualification is really beyond the pale.
In Israel, what I’ve been struck by most is the militaristic nature of the national narrative, the centrality of the army to the national myth – even to the exclusion of other contributors like scientists, musicians and entrepreneurs. Those people and arenas are celebrated, of course, but not nearly as much as the military. To be fair, Israel does owe much of its existence and continued strength to the military, but there is such little – public at least – self-critique. Should I be surprised? Is there that much public self-criticism in America? In Washington DC, the best analogue to Tel Aviv, there are hundreds of national monuments and memorials to brave resistance fighters and national heroes. There is one Native American Museum. There is one official African American Museum. Interestingly, being in Israel and finding fault with the dominant Israeli narrative has made me much more self-critical of America’s and my own.
But back to Israel.
If Israel’s narrative/identity is dominated by the military, and the Palestinian narrative/identity is dominated by the 1948 Nakbah – where does this leave the two societies with respect to a cessation of hostilities? How can the conflict end when both nations define themselves by it? Israelis, of course, would argue that for them this is simply not the case. Look at the cities, the businesses, the schools and government and infrastructure they’ve built in only 60 years! And that’s true. But if you think about it, what was “Israeli” before 1948 and the “War of Independence”? And what was “Palestinian” before 1948 and the Nakbah? There were Palestinian Jews and Palestinian Arabs. Not Israelis and Palestinians. That distinction and the crystallization of two peoples came as a consequence of that pivotal year.
...
If I hadn’t spent so much time talking about the museum, I might have had a chance to tell you about Sunday afternoon/evening. I attended a very interesting event with Nir for my internship, all about Israeli philanthropy and social entrepreneurship. But that will have to wait for next entry I guess.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Friday, July 3, 2009
Can I Quote You?
Just a brief update:
Remember the Rabin Center event I attended last week? Well, I met a journalist there, Genevieve Long of the Epoch Times. She subsequently filed a short article online, and lo and behold, there's my name and a little quote at the bottom. Actually, the full "scoop" is a bit more complicated. We talked for a while at the event, and I was rather nervous at first (since she told me I might be quoted), so I just rambled away, trying to sound smart. Bad move. When I checked to see what she had written, she had actually published a long quote by me - which made me sound terribly pro-Israel. I emailed her in dismay - please, please change or delete part of that quotation! That's not what I meant!
She was very kind and did delete the offending remarks. Whew! A good learning experience though. I feel bad for famous people who get quoted all the time. You better have practice and know your "talking points" because otherwise it's just too easy to let slip something inoffensive in person but glaringly off-color in print.
Anyway, I managed to pull through with my reputation for being balanced intact. If you're interested, here's the link to the article: http://www.theepochtimes.com/n2/content/view/18653/
Remember the Rabin Center event I attended last week? Well, I met a journalist there, Genevieve Long of the Epoch Times. She subsequently filed a short article online, and lo and behold, there's my name and a little quote at the bottom. Actually, the full "scoop" is a bit more complicated. We talked for a while at the event, and I was rather nervous at first (since she told me I might be quoted), so I just rambled away, trying to sound smart. Bad move. When I checked to see what she had written, she had actually published a long quote by me - which made me sound terribly pro-Israel. I emailed her in dismay - please, please change or delete part of that quotation! That's not what I meant!
She was very kind and did delete the offending remarks. Whew! A good learning experience though. I feel bad for famous people who get quoted all the time. You better have practice and know your "talking points" because otherwise it's just too easy to let slip something inoffensive in person but glaringly off-color in print.
Anyway, I managed to pull through with my reputation for being balanced intact. If you're interested, here's the link to the article: http://www.theepochtimes.com/n2/content/view/18653/
Where Does the Setting Sun Go?
Now that I’ve been here for a few weeks, the initial sense of wonderment has begun to wear off. I don’t think I’m experiencing culture shock. I’m too used to Israelis for that. It’s more like culture fatigue. With the glamour of newness gone, the everyday realities are settling in – the banalities of daily living without the intensity and intellectual rigor of the first ten days in Jerusalem. It’s running errands, going shopping, cleaning the house, sitting down with my laptop and writing profiles, summaries, doing research. It’s realizing that Israel is a small, small country and sometimes the offerings are slim. In terms of geography, religion, conflict, Israel is rich indeed. In terms of museums, bookstores, theater, dance, the sphere is more limited – at least for an English speaker (my own limitation).
But I have tried to take advantage of being in one of the Middle East’s most bustling – albeit relatively young – cities.
Since my arrival in Tel Aviv, I’ve visited Independence Hall (that was during our first ten days, actually), where, on May 14, 1948, Ben Gurion declared the establishment of the state of Israel; Ben Gurion’s House/Museum, two blocks up the road from our flat; the Jabotinsky Institute, devoted to the history of the Jewish national resistance movement; the Rubin Reuven House/Museum, an lovely intimate gallery of the artist’s work; the Tel Aviv Museum of Art, with a spattering of Monet, Picasso, Braque, etc.; the Rabin Center, not yet open, but with quite a formidable museum attached; HaYarkon Park, by the river; the Old Port; Carmel Market; the Nahalat Binyamin Crafts Market; the Bauhaus Center; the Azrieli Center, a mall/office/observatory complex (Israel’s “Empire State”) ; and all the used bookstores and new bookstores in the area.
But I think the most memorable experience I’ve had yet was the afternoon I spent in Old Jaffa last Tuesday (June 28). Unfortunately the Visitor Center was closed (until June 30, so I’ll go back), but I meandered through the HaPisgah Gardens, crossed the Wishing Bridge while gazing out over the Mediterranean, the sun glancing off the diamond waves. I walked around Kikar Kedumim, the reconstructed center of Old Jaffa, ringed with little galleries, restaurants, and shops. I managed a brief glimpse at the artists’ colony on a previous visit, but on this day, I spent most of my time at St. Peter’s Monastery.
I got there just minutes before it closed, managing a brief but wonderful alone time in the dim sanctum. A kind priest told me that they were closing at 5 pm, but would reopen for Mass at 6. Apparently it was a holy day. I have subsequently searched online and I think it was the Feast Day of Saint Peter and Paul, in remembrance of their sufferings (very fitting too for St. Peter’s Monastery). Though I’m not Christian, I’ve been to services several times, usually around Christmas. I’ve always connected to the Catholic traditions most of all. However formal, ornate and perhaps disassociated from daily life they can be, the grandeur, mythology and beauty of Catholic cathedrals and liturgy still fill me somehow.
The entire service, of course, was in Arabic, but I cherished the throb and weight of the words, interspersed with singing from the congregants. I watched the little children playing in the aisles, the older ones kissing them and braiding the girls’ hair. At the end of the ceremony, the priest instructed his parishioners to turn to one and another and smile and greet each other and shake hands. The older couple sitting to my left as well as those in front of me (I had quietly snuck into the last pew after the service had started; apparently I was not the only late-comer – people kept showing up, making an unholy ruckus opening the heavy doors) turned and smiled, shook my hand, and I felt, in that moment, a human connection surpassing the language and cultural barriers between us.
Then I walked back to Tel Aviv along the seaside promenade. It was a very windy evening and all the wind-surfers and paragliders were out – the sky filled with colorful, bobbing chutes. The sun was setting and its beauty and the brevity of the moment were the last thoughts in my mind as it sank below the horizon.
Hmmm. Now that I think of it. That sense of wonderment – the one that was supposedly wearing off? – yeah, it’s back.
But I have tried to take advantage of being in one of the Middle East’s most bustling – albeit relatively young – cities.
Since my arrival in Tel Aviv, I’ve visited Independence Hall (that was during our first ten days, actually), where, on May 14, 1948, Ben Gurion declared the establishment of the state of Israel; Ben Gurion’s House/Museum, two blocks up the road from our flat; the Jabotinsky Institute, devoted to the history of the Jewish national resistance movement; the Rubin Reuven House/Museum, an lovely intimate gallery of the artist’s work; the Tel Aviv Museum of Art, with a spattering of Monet, Picasso, Braque, etc.; the Rabin Center, not yet open, but with quite a formidable museum attached; HaYarkon Park, by the river; the Old Port; Carmel Market; the Nahalat Binyamin Crafts Market; the Bauhaus Center; the Azrieli Center, a mall/office/observatory complex (Israel’s “Empire State”) ; and all the used bookstores and new bookstores in the area.
But I think the most memorable experience I’ve had yet was the afternoon I spent in Old Jaffa last Tuesday (June 28). Unfortunately the Visitor Center was closed (until June 30, so I’ll go back), but I meandered through the HaPisgah Gardens, crossed the Wishing Bridge while gazing out over the Mediterranean, the sun glancing off the diamond waves. I walked around Kikar Kedumim, the reconstructed center of Old Jaffa, ringed with little galleries, restaurants, and shops. I managed a brief glimpse at the artists’ colony on a previous visit, but on this day, I spent most of my time at St. Peter’s Monastery.
I got there just minutes before it closed, managing a brief but wonderful alone time in the dim sanctum. A kind priest told me that they were closing at 5 pm, but would reopen for Mass at 6. Apparently it was a holy day. I have subsequently searched online and I think it was the Feast Day of Saint Peter and Paul, in remembrance of their sufferings (very fitting too for St. Peter’s Monastery). Though I’m not Christian, I’ve been to services several times, usually around Christmas. I’ve always connected to the Catholic traditions most of all. However formal, ornate and perhaps disassociated from daily life they can be, the grandeur, mythology and beauty of Catholic cathedrals and liturgy still fill me somehow.
The entire service, of course, was in Arabic, but I cherished the throb and weight of the words, interspersed with singing from the congregants. I watched the little children playing in the aisles, the older ones kissing them and braiding the girls’ hair. At the end of the ceremony, the priest instructed his parishioners to turn to one and another and smile and greet each other and shake hands. The older couple sitting to my left as well as those in front of me (I had quietly snuck into the last pew after the service had started; apparently I was not the only late-comer – people kept showing up, making an unholy ruckus opening the heavy doors) turned and smiled, shook my hand, and I felt, in that moment, a human connection surpassing the language and cultural barriers between us.
Then I walked back to Tel Aviv along the seaside promenade. It was a very windy evening and all the wind-surfers and paragliders were out – the sky filled with colorful, bobbing chutes. The sun was setting and its beauty and the brevity of the moment were the last thoughts in my mind as it sank below the horizon.
Hmmm. Now that I think of it. That sense of wonderment – the one that was supposedly wearing off? – yeah, it’s back.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
What's "New"?
Here’s a quick look at the work of three potential Ashoka Israel fellows I’ve been researching. One of the things I really appreciate about Ashoka is that they’re serious in their search for “new solutions to old social problems.” Someone asked me the other day if new solutions are actually possible. Hasn’t everything already been tried or at least thought of? Not really. In fact, not even close.
Abbas Abbas: AlManarah (http://www.almanarah.org/eng/)
A blind Arab from Nazareth, Abbas is focused on transforming the position of the blind – and more generally Arabs with disabilities – in both Israeli and Arab society. His organization, AlManarah (the Lighthouse), tackles this onerous task with a comprehensive three-pronged approach: awareness, education, empowerment. On the awareness front, AlManarah conducts workshops for parents and professionals. It uses the Israeli court system (filing appeals and lawsuits) to advocate on behalf of the blind. Awareness and education of course go hand in hand, and the organization disseminates educational materials to both the blind and the general public. It recruits volunteers to serve as personal guidance and reading assistants for Arab blind pupils and university students. Its “audio library” project is a new initiative for the establishment of an Arab Blind library, providing learning, scientific and artistic materials, some of which are recorded, and other printed in Braille, and in a large print.
Shai Reshef: University of the People (http://www.uopeople.org/)
An Israeli entrepreneur and businessman, Reshef has been the prime mover of several large online and educational ventures. He is now chairman of Cramster.com, an online study community offering homework help to college students. He is also the founder and president of the University of the People, potentially the first free online university. It is this latest incarnation that alerted Ashoka to Shai. The University of the People’s website claims its place as “the world’s first tuition-free, online academic institution dedicated to the global advancement and democratization of higher education. The high-quality, low-cost and global pedagogical model embraces the worldwide presence of the Internet and dropping technology costs to bring collegiate level studies to even the poorest and most remote places on earth.” So far, the venture has the backing of the UN (http://www.un.org/apps/news/story.asp?NewsID=30848&Cr=ict&Cr1).
Yehudit Carmon: Read and Play, Ltd. (http://www.readandplay.co.il/indexE.htm)
Through her research and passions, Dr. Yehudit Carmon, an expert on literacy education for young children and a musician herself, realized that the decades of conventional wisdom concerning reading acquisition was wrong. Instead, she has pioneered a new approach to teaching literacy to children, called Toy-Musical-Notes (TMN), as well as a company devoted to its development and dissemination, Read and Play, Ltd. The method is simple, based on 8 notes, and is accompanied by both human and virtual (computer) instruction and time spent playing instruments. According to the website, “Read and Play's vision is to change the existing method of learning to read throughout the world, so that children will be assisted by music as an intermediate language on their way to acquiring verbal reading…We believe that music is a beloved international language breaking all barriers. It enriches many basic skills and faculties in addition to reading capabilities: social and emotional skills, cognitive processes, mathematical cognition, musicality, verbal abilities, etc. We believe that with the assistance of music, children can grow to love and enjoy reading from a young age.
Abbas Abbas: AlManarah (http://www.almanarah.org/eng/)
A blind Arab from Nazareth, Abbas is focused on transforming the position of the blind – and more generally Arabs with disabilities – in both Israeli and Arab society. His organization, AlManarah (the Lighthouse), tackles this onerous task with a comprehensive three-pronged approach: awareness, education, empowerment. On the awareness front, AlManarah conducts workshops for parents and professionals. It uses the Israeli court system (filing appeals and lawsuits) to advocate on behalf of the blind. Awareness and education of course go hand in hand, and the organization disseminates educational materials to both the blind and the general public. It recruits volunteers to serve as personal guidance and reading assistants for Arab blind pupils and university students. Its “audio library” project is a new initiative for the establishment of an Arab Blind library, providing learning, scientific and artistic materials, some of which are recorded, and other printed in Braille, and in a large print.
Shai Reshef: University of the People (http://www.uopeople.org/)
An Israeli entrepreneur and businessman, Reshef has been the prime mover of several large online and educational ventures. He is now chairman of Cramster.com, an online study community offering homework help to college students. He is also the founder and president of the University of the People, potentially the first free online university. It is this latest incarnation that alerted Ashoka to Shai. The University of the People’s website claims its place as “the world’s first tuition-free, online academic institution dedicated to the global advancement and democratization of higher education. The high-quality, low-cost and global pedagogical model embraces the worldwide presence of the Internet and dropping technology costs to bring collegiate level studies to even the poorest and most remote places on earth.” So far, the venture has the backing of the UN (http://www.un.org/apps/news/story.asp?NewsID=30848&Cr=ict&Cr1).
Yehudit Carmon: Read and Play, Ltd. (http://www.readandplay.co.il/indexE.htm)
Through her research and passions, Dr. Yehudit Carmon, an expert on literacy education for young children and a musician herself, realized that the decades of conventional wisdom concerning reading acquisition was wrong. Instead, she has pioneered a new approach to teaching literacy to children, called Toy-Musical-Notes (TMN), as well as a company devoted to its development and dissemination, Read and Play, Ltd. The method is simple, based on 8 notes, and is accompanied by both human and virtual (computer) instruction and time spent playing instruments. According to the website, “Read and Play's vision is to change the existing method of learning to read throughout the world, so that children will be assisted by music as an intermediate language on their way to acquiring verbal reading…We believe that music is a beloved international language breaking all barriers. It enriches many basic skills and faculties in addition to reading capabilities: social and emotional skills, cognitive processes, mathematical cognition, musicality, verbal abilities, etc. We believe that with the assistance of music, children can grow to love and enjoy reading from a young age.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Can I Name-Drop for a Moment?
Thursday evening I accompanied Nir to an event at the Rabin Center, which our group visited before on our one-day tour of Tel Aviv. The event was surprisingly meaningful – especially for me as an American University student. I had no idea but apparently there is a 25 year-old partnership between the American University Washington College of Law (WCL) and the New Israel Fund. Called the Israel-US Civil Liberties Law Program, it is “a two-year program which includes a year of studies at the American University Washington College of Law, internships with leading US civil and human rights organizations and a year working with a public interest organization in Israel.” Founded and spearheaded by Professor Herman Schwartz, it has launched 55 students in careers as civil rights lawyers and advocates of social justice. The event at the Rabin Center was a three-fold celebration: first, to honor the program’s quarter-century birthday; second to honor Professor Schwartz for his mentorship and unstinting service; and, third, to present the first annual Human Rights Prize, given in Professor Schwartz’s name, to an outstanding graduate of the program.
I hate to name drop, but I guess in a blog entry it will do no harm. The guest of honor (so much honoring going on!) last night was US Ambassador to Israel James B. Cunningham (gotta put that B. in there). Fun fact: I went to middle school with former US Ambassador Martin Indyk’s son, Jake. We were friends in passing. But back to last night. Ambassador Cunningham gave a very decent speech – and a very diplomatic one – weaving together America’s protracted battle for civil rights and Israel’s nascent struggle. He spoke of the Israeli Declaration of Independence and its parallels with the US Declaration. He chronicled some of the highlights of the American civil rights movement, including the Dred Scott case, the women’s suffrage movement, the “separate but equal” doctrine and its dismissal by Brown v. Board of Education. He quoted President Obama several times, once – a kind of quote within a quote – mentioning the words of Martin Luther King’s as used by Obama: “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” He used these words as a kind of touchstone for the rest of his speech. In Cairo, President Obama spoke of those universal rights that all human deserve. Ambassador Cunningham, though cognizant of the fierce and often bloody fight, ended his speech by saying that it is these ideals – justice, equality, human rights and civil liberties – that ultimately succeed.
Ambassador Cunningham was followed by former Meretz party member of Knesset Zahava Gal’on. She spoke in Hebrew so I was not able to understand her speech. I did, however, pick out the name Tzipi Livni, leader of the Kadima party, as well as a word that sounded something like “oppositsia.” Perhaps it means “opposition”? For certainly Kadima is now the opposition party in Israeli politics. Anyway, Ms. Gal’on was followed by two graduates of the civil liberties program, Dan Yakir, Chief Legal Council for ACRI, and Hassan Jabareen, a Palestinian fellow and founder/director of Adalah. The latter’s speech was particularly moving since Jabareen told a personal story of Professor Schwartz’s mentorship – how Schwartz advised Jabareen to become an advocate for his people instead of pursuing a career in academe.
Larry Garber, CEO of the New Israel Fund, spoke next, dropping the phrase “social change” several times, along with explaining the thinking behind the annual Herman Schwartz Law Fellow Alumni Prize. Instead of presenting Professor Schwartz his own prize, which everyone agreed that he richly deserved, his associates decided upon a prize in his honor. The first such prize was awarded to (I believe I got her name) Dr. Neda Aziz. Professor Schwartz spoke briefly, on the genesis of the program, which he said was intended to cultivate Israeli lawyers focused on specifically Israeli problems. He also said that he designed the program with only one basic requirement: one woman must be admitted every year. So it seems fitting that with the first recipient of the award happened to be a woman. Dr. Aziz did speak, briefly, upon her acceptance, but she didn’t speak much about her current undertakings, but rather thanked all those involved in bringing her to this place. Another “musical interlude” – and then we departed.
Oh – but I did forget one interesting aside that took place during the event. I was approached by a reported for the “Epoch Times” – not a periodical I had previously heard of – and was asked some questions about the WCL – NIF partnership, about Ashoka, etc. Apparently the newspaper has reporters in some 30 countries or so, but their main emphasis is China. They were founded by persecuted Falun Gong practitioners, who had fled to the US and decided to create a newspaper devoted to truth-telling – unlike the Communist newsweeklies that were strictly Party-line. Admittedly, a newspaper founded by the Falun Gong sounds a bit “out there,” but I’ve checked out their website and their reporting and all of it, so far, seem legit. We’ll see whether I get quoted or not.
On the internship front, Nir was in Nazareth yesterday to talk to Abbas Abbas, the blind Arab who wants to change the way blind and other disabled people are treated in the Arab world, more particularly in Israel. Tonight I need to do some research and writing, comparing other Ashoka fellows working on disability/blind rights with Abbas’s work to see if he truly has an original idea/methodology. Tomorrow or the next day I’ll meet again with Nir to further hone our still nascent collaboration. Amazingly, it’s already been two weeks and I only have four more to go. I wonder how in-depth I’ll be able to go with Ashoka in this short time. In any event, the association, for what I’d potentially like to do in life, is invaluable.
P.S. Here’s a link to the Epoch Times – http://www.theepochtimes.com.
See for yourself.
I hate to name drop, but I guess in a blog entry it will do no harm. The guest of honor (so much honoring going on!) last night was US Ambassador to Israel James B. Cunningham (gotta put that B. in there). Fun fact: I went to middle school with former US Ambassador Martin Indyk’s son, Jake. We were friends in passing. But back to last night. Ambassador Cunningham gave a very decent speech – and a very diplomatic one – weaving together America’s protracted battle for civil rights and Israel’s nascent struggle. He spoke of the Israeli Declaration of Independence and its parallels with the US Declaration. He chronicled some of the highlights of the American civil rights movement, including the Dred Scott case, the women’s suffrage movement, the “separate but equal” doctrine and its dismissal by Brown v. Board of Education. He quoted President Obama several times, once – a kind of quote within a quote – mentioning the words of Martin Luther King’s as used by Obama: “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” He used these words as a kind of touchstone for the rest of his speech. In Cairo, President Obama spoke of those universal rights that all human deserve. Ambassador Cunningham, though cognizant of the fierce and often bloody fight, ended his speech by saying that it is these ideals – justice, equality, human rights and civil liberties – that ultimately succeed.
Ambassador Cunningham was followed by former Meretz party member of Knesset Zahava Gal’on. She spoke in Hebrew so I was not able to understand her speech. I did, however, pick out the name Tzipi Livni, leader of the Kadima party, as well as a word that sounded something like “oppositsia.” Perhaps it means “opposition”? For certainly Kadima is now the opposition party in Israeli politics. Anyway, Ms. Gal’on was followed by two graduates of the civil liberties program, Dan Yakir, Chief Legal Council for ACRI, and Hassan Jabareen, a Palestinian fellow and founder/director of Adalah. The latter’s speech was particularly moving since Jabareen told a personal story of Professor Schwartz’s mentorship – how Schwartz advised Jabareen to become an advocate for his people instead of pursuing a career in academe.
Larry Garber, CEO of the New Israel Fund, spoke next, dropping the phrase “social change” several times, along with explaining the thinking behind the annual Herman Schwartz Law Fellow Alumni Prize. Instead of presenting Professor Schwartz his own prize, which everyone agreed that he richly deserved, his associates decided upon a prize in his honor. The first such prize was awarded to (I believe I got her name) Dr. Neda Aziz. Professor Schwartz spoke briefly, on the genesis of the program, which he said was intended to cultivate Israeli lawyers focused on specifically Israeli problems. He also said that he designed the program with only one basic requirement: one woman must be admitted every year. So it seems fitting that with the first recipient of the award happened to be a woman. Dr. Aziz did speak, briefly, upon her acceptance, but she didn’t speak much about her current undertakings, but rather thanked all those involved in bringing her to this place. Another “musical interlude” – and then we departed.
Oh – but I did forget one interesting aside that took place during the event. I was approached by a reported for the “Epoch Times” – not a periodical I had previously heard of – and was asked some questions about the WCL – NIF partnership, about Ashoka, etc. Apparently the newspaper has reporters in some 30 countries or so, but their main emphasis is China. They were founded by persecuted Falun Gong practitioners, who had fled to the US and decided to create a newspaper devoted to truth-telling – unlike the Communist newsweeklies that were strictly Party-line. Admittedly, a newspaper founded by the Falun Gong sounds a bit “out there,” but I’ve checked out their website and their reporting and all of it, so far, seem legit. We’ll see whether I get quoted or not.
On the internship front, Nir was in Nazareth yesterday to talk to Abbas Abbas, the blind Arab who wants to change the way blind and other disabled people are treated in the Arab world, more particularly in Israel. Tonight I need to do some research and writing, comparing other Ashoka fellows working on disability/blind rights with Abbas’s work to see if he truly has an original idea/methodology. Tomorrow or the next day I’ll meet again with Nir to further hone our still nascent collaboration. Amazingly, it’s already been two weeks and I only have four more to go. I wonder how in-depth I’ll be able to go with Ashoka in this short time. In any event, the association, for what I’d potentially like to do in life, is invaluable.
P.S. Here’s a link to the Epoch Times – http://www.theepochtimes.com.
See for yourself.
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