Harpo Jaeger dot com

Just someone whose story you haven't heard

Too often in conflicts we don’t hear stories. We don’t know what other people have experienced. This, I believe, is the root of many social problems.

Political realities are ultimately inseparable from the individual experiences that give rise to them. We can make generalizations about societal states of understanding, political theories, and large social constructs, but these must ultimately be grounded in a deep understanding of the individual, human nature of the issue.

At its heart, the Israeli-Palestinian conflict is a failure of understanding. Yes, we can and do identify policies, tactics, and manners of thought that continue it, but we cannot forget their inalienably human attributes. Applying the analytical tools of anthropology and other social sciences can tell us much about why the conflict has evolved the way it has. Why, for instance, does the Israeli government continue to lend tacit, if not explicit, support in most cases, to settlers who are actively violating international law and soiling Israel’s credibility? Why have Palestinian civilians been so easily represented by the few who decide to blow themselves up?

These are questions of understanding. I have strong disagreements with many people involved in the conflict, but there comes a time when I have to admit that I just don’t understand their point of view. I haven’t been to Israel or Palestine, I haven’t sat down across the table with these people and tried to understand what makes them tick.

I don’t think this makes me less capable of making strong and accurate judgments on the issue, but it does impart on me a responsibility to seek out such stories and incorporate them into my thought. In fact, I would argue that no one is exempt from this responsibility. Divorced as I am from the on-the-ground realities of the conflict, it’s easy for me to say that my priority is understanding. For an Israeli in Sderot who’s lived through rocket attacks and seen their children traumatized and suffering from PTSD, or for a Palestinian in Gaza who’s lived through massive Israeli air raids, destruction of vital infrastructure, and a continuing blockade, it must be incredibly hard to understand the other.

But there are those who do. There are those who put aside their own experiences, and, given the opportunity to do so without sacrificing basic needs, seek out the other’s perspective. And the fact that those people exist means that we should not just expect others to do the same, but we should strive for circumstances where they can.

Both in his attempts to understand and his attempts to empower others to do the same, Avi Schaefer was one of those people dedicated to understanding. After graduating high school in Santa Barbara, he joined the IDF and spent several years as a counterterrorism instructor. To a naive American Jewish boy like me who’s never held a gun, it’s hard to comprehend his motivations. But it was crystal clear to me from the moment I met him up until the last conversation I had with him that he wanted me to, and he wanted to comprehend mine. Avi was in many ways extremely oxymoronic; but then, he existed almost for the purpose of defying those same oxymorons. Before I met him, I would never have guessed that an American Jew who became an Israeli citizen in order to join the IDF would be more dedicated to peace than arguably any other person I have ever met. But what Avi has taught me was that that doesn’t have to be a contradiction. That the only thing standing between us and a deeper personal understanding of the other is our assumptions. If we come to a discussion with an open mind and no assumptions, we inevitably walk away stronger and smarter.

Avi Schaefer was killed in the early morning of February 12th by a drunk driver on the streets of Providence. Who Avi was doesn’t make his death more tragic than if it had been someone else, but the people he touched, the good he did in his short time with us, and the taste that is left on our tongues, will linger. In Avi, a man of incredible virtue and dignity walked among us.

“An enemy is someone whose story we have not yet heard.” Avi attributed this quote to his father, Rabbi Arthur Gross-Schaefer.

Avi Schaefer, 1988-2010. Z”L. May his memory be for a blessing.