AMERICANS are usually excessively polite when it comes to talking about religion or politics. We don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, so we may avoid discussing either subject too
passionately with strangers—or even at the dinner table. We’re taught to listen carefully to both sides of an argument before we make up our mind. Not only is that how we’re raised, but it’s the cornerstone of our government and our judicial system.
There are many families which do not shy away from controversial issues, however. When my parents, Dick and Donna Curtiss, were teaching their children table manners and when to speak and when to listen, they also taught another lesson by example. My mother (with her aunt and toddler in tow) joined sit-ins at Woolworth lunch counters in Virginia to protest their refusal to serve African Americans, and for years both my parents protested peacefully in the streets of Washington, DC—sometimes every day—on behalf of Palestinian rights.
They taught me that if we witness injustice or the violation of another human being’s rights it’s our duty to take the gloves off and speak up—even if it hurts some feelings.
I can’t count how many times I read Anne Frank: Diary of a Young Girl. This book has been translated into more than 100 languages and studied by millions of schoolchildren around the world. We all know her story by heart. Anne’s father, Otto, tried to protect his family from Nazi persecution of Jews by moving from Germany to Holland. He fails. Hidden with her family and Jewish friends in an attic for more than two years, however, Anne discovers herself as she writes about her life.
Everyone who’s read her diary or seen the films loves Anne and hates the end of her story. Nazis discover the Franks’ secret hiding place, arrest the family, along with the Dutchmen who’d helped hide them, and send them to concentration camps. Anne died of typhus in March 1945 in Bergen-Belsen when she was only 15. Two months later, after World War II ended, Otto—the only survivor from the attic room—returned to Amsterdam, found his daughter’s diary and presented Anne’s words to the world.
The story of Anne Frank’s life and death resonates with people of all ages and backgrounds. Anne’s diary provides a vehicle for people to learn from Europe’s Holocaust and examine prejudice, persecution, discrimination, hatred and violence.
Anne’s words survive death and inspire young people to express their idealism. Her faith that good will triumph over evil still gives us hope.
It defies belief that anyone today, especially Jewish Americans, would try to bury the words of another young heroine, Rachel Corrie, the brave 23-year-old American girl crushed to death on March 16, 2003 as she tried to prevent the demolition of a civilian family’s home in the Gaza Strip. Indeed, few Americans have even heard about the sweet brave life and the horrifying death of Rachel Corrie. Unfortunately, that suits some people—Israel-right-or-wrong Americans, Jews and Christians alike—just fine.
Rachel Corrie is the Joan of Arc of the human rights movement, a martyr for Palestinians and for nonviolent protesters around the world. Like Otto Frank, her parents, Craig and Cindy, recognized the power and passion of her e-mails home and shared them with the world. When people saw the Corrie family’s home movie of Rachel, aged 10, on a school stage reciting her poem about how “children everywhere are suffering” and how she wished to “stop hunger by the year 2000,” she became a daughter to us all. We’re achingly proud of her loving spirit and we mourn her death.
But when Jewish theater patrons and their rabbis heard that Rachel’s Corrie’s words would be brought to life at the New York Theater Workshop—as they had earlier in London—they complained. Artistic director James Nicola’s theater suddenly “postponed” indefinitely the U.S. debut of “My Name Is Rachel Corrie.”
Actress Vanessa Redgrave, who has paid a high professional price for her empathy for Palestinians, said it best: “This is censorship of the worst kind. More awful even than that. It is black-listing a dead girl and her diaries. A very brave and exceptional girl who all citizens, whatever their faith or nationality, should be proud and grateful for...”
Censorship is not uncommon when it comes to criticism of Israeli actions. Americans don’t want to offend Jews who have suffered so much, so we censor ourselves. We so dread being labeled anti-Semitic that we commit another sin—we stand by, or even assist Israel, as it ethnically cleanses Palestinians from their land. We look the other way when Israel wrongs Palestinians—or even our fellow Americans.
The survivors of Israel’s deliberate attack on the USS Liberty know the routine. On June 8, 1967, during the Six-Day War that Israel launched against the Arabs, Israeli aircraft and motor torpedo boats attacked the American intelligence ship USS Liberty for 75 minutes in international waters. Thirty-four Americans were killed and 174 were wounded. This shocking war crime has been hushed up by American officials for years. Survivors were warned never to talk about the worst day of their lives. They are labeled “anti-Semitic” when they gather each year to remember their shipmates and call for an official investigation of the attack.
Whistleblower Mordechai Vanunu served 18 years in prison, 11 in solitary confinement, for telling the world that Israel was working on an illegal nuclear weapons program. While serving his sentence in Israel Vanunu, who earlier had converted to Christianity, was adopted by an American couple. Vanunu hoped to emigrate to the United States after his release and live in peace and safety. But Israel won’t even let him leave Jerusalem, and the courts are trying to put him back in jail and throw away the key. Americans are too polite to exert political pressure on his behalf.
Israel-first Americans aren’t so polite.
Just before the “My Name is Rachel Corrie” controversy erupted in New York, the Washington Report received a note from Barbara Lubin, executive director of the Middle East Children’s Alliance (MECA). Lubin is a Jewish American activist who has dedicated her life to helping Palestinian children survive Israel’s occupation. She told us that MECA had teamed up with the Berkeley Art Center and Alliance Graphics to present an exhibit last November and December called “Justice Matters: Artists Consider Palestine.” In their works 14 Palestinian and American artists addressed Israel’s occupation and colonization of Palestine.
The artists, MECA and the Berkeley Art Center were attacked by the Anti-Defamation League, the Simon Wiesenthal Center and other people who claimed to represent the mainstream Jewish community. According to Jos Sances, curator of “Justice Matters,” “there was even an effort to close the show down and have the city withdraw its annual support for the Berkeley Art Center.”
Fourteen rabbis (one for each artist?) visited Berkeley’s mayor to condemn the exhibit. The artists were charged with glorifying violence and terrorism, perpetuating anti-Semitic stereotypes and even lying about their own history.
On the other hand, there was support from the community and e-mails to the Berkeley Art Center included comments like: “A powerful, scathing experience. Thank you for it” and “It was very thought provoking to see the other side.” Even an Israeli offered ”my admiration for your courage in showing this important protest art.”
Organizers had hoped to make “Justice Matters” a traveling show to raise money for a graphics and screen-printing workshop in the West Bank’s Dheisheh refugee camp. There aren’t many communities which will dare host it now. While Americans cherish freedom of speech, some words and images are not welcome. Lubin concludes her note: “What about our First Amendment rights to have an art exhibit in Berkeley, California?”
New York Theater’s shocking cancelation of “My Name is Rachel Corrie” is not the first time a brave voice was silenced—but let’s make sure it’s the last.
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