Taking it to the students

Taking it to the students Last week I had the good fortune to attend a campus forum at NYU, where a small group of students met Israeli indie rock star Aviv Geffen. From what I had heard, it was Geffen's idea to tour American universities and speak to students, in the wake of the Lebanon War. As he explained at NYU, he wanted to show his support for Israel during the war, even though he belonged to the far-left of the Israeli political spectrum. I was immediately taken by this man and his approach. I have come to revere those who acknowledge and deal with political complexity, rather than cling to black-and-white positions. (Not to mention the fact that I was a fan of his music, since living in Israel in 1995). I can't say that Geffen was the most polished speaker, or even the best prepared. But what he may have lacked in palm cards, he made up for in sincerity. First, Geffen gave a short speech. Then he opened the floor to questions. In his opening remarks the rocker took pains to describe how he saw the situations in Gaza and in Lebanon as very different. Israel may have left Gaza, but the Palestinians were still not free of Israeli occupation, he said. The Lebanese, on the contrary, have not been occupied for six years. Despite being famous for having avoided his own army drafting (partly for medical reasons), he supported the IDF's response there. Although the general solution for Mid-East peace that Geffen proposed, was to hold talks with enemies and show profound respect for their culture, he sympathized strongly with his brothers and sisters living in Israel's north. He had gone to perform in bomb shelters during the war, in support of their plight, and to ease their suffering. From what I could tell, almost the entire audience was Jewish and/or Israeli. As Geffen opened the floor to questioning, a curly-haired young girl shot her hand straight into the air. When called on to speak, she launched into a tirade about the history of Israel's right to possession of various biblical lands, beginning with the 18th century. It was as if she was reading a chapter from Alan Dershowitz's The Case for Israel. Although I firmly believe that particular book is a must-read for any college student, and a valuable tool in combating anti-Israel sentiment on campus, her reaction seemed a little off. After all, she was lecturing Aviv Geffen, son of the famed Israeli poet Jonathan Geffen, and nephew of Moshe Dayan, arguably Israel's most famous military hero, on the history of Jewish settlement in Israel. It was embarrassing. Most disconcerting was the fact that her mini-lecture did not address any of the relevant issues that Geffen had raised. She was stalled at the barrier of his left-wing ideology. She was arguing with him like an adversary; she was ruining the opportunity to explore the beautiful complexity of his position. Once curly-top had been heard and quietened, the conversation could progress. Not that it was particularly constructive. People asked confused questions and addressed lateral topics. Nothing in particular was explored in depth nor resolved. But to me, this is healthy. In that kind of intimate forum, it's important to express the confusion, the naivety, the frustration. If they are held in, such feelings can lead to doubt, or self-hatred. And if the group had been an audience of Israel-critics, it would have been entirely appropriate to quote Dershowitz.