Now They Call Me Infidel

by Nonie Darwish

  We thought we had left all the oppression behind. But it has followed us right here in America, where Jews, Copts, and Arab and Muslim speakers like myself are being silenced and intimidated by radical Muslims right here in America. We are accused of hate speech if we criticize terrorism and radicalism. Our accusers resort to verbal abuse, satire, character assassination, and outright lies. Anyone from my culture who stands up for the war on terror is called names: Islamophobe, bigot, racist, and traitor. Some have been accused of not being true Muslims. They are called apostates and even infidels.

  Now I am called an infidel! In their eyes, I am no longer a good Arab or a good Muslim for supporting the war on terror, advocating peace with Israel, and standing up to the culture of jihad. I get dirty looks from Muslim men as I am speaking. With their eyes they are saying, “How dare you, a woman, speak against what we believe in!” They know that if I were back home, I could have been easily silenced, jailed, or killed.

  We often hear that “moderate” Muslims are the majority and that terrorist supporters are a minority fringe group. However, when genuine Islamic moderate leaders stand firm against terrorism, we do not see majority Muslim support for their views. To the contrary, such “moderates” shout the speakers down, condemn, and threaten them.

  My speaking style is noncombative and quite respectful of Muslim audiences, whom I challenge to stand against terrorists who give Islam a bad name. I emphasize that Arab and Muslim critics of radical Islam are not the problem; the terrorists are the problem. It does not matter how many times I stress that I am not speaking about Islam, but radical Islam. They are offended anyway and say they object to the expression “radical Islam” or “political Islam.” My answer to that is: Give me whatever term you want to describe Muslim terrorists and their supporters and those who hold the Koran with one hand and slaughter the innocent with the other, while chanting “Allahu Akbar.” Give me a term for such people and I will use that term. They cannot come up with any name to describe them.

  Coincidences continued to occur as I traveled the country speaking. On a tour in Minnesota, I met an older Israeli gentleman who told me that he was a young Israeli soldier in Israel in the 1950s during the fedayeen operations. He said that he fought them from the Israeli side and confirmed that they did cause a lot of problems inside Israel. He added that some Muslim Druze who lived inside Israel were also fighting against the fedayeen infiltrators. As we spoke, he named my father by name. That gentlemen and I hugged, and we both had tears in our eyes.

  My speaking career would finally take me to Israel in November of 2004 when I was invited to speak at the second annual Jerusalem Summit held at the historic King David Hotel overlooking the Old City. Visiting Israel is a major taboo in all Arab countries and part of the boycott of Israel. Israel’s neighbors, the twenty-two Arab countries that compose the Arab League, forbid their people to visit or do business with Israel and its citizens. Even Arab Christians have been forbidden to visit their holy sites in Israel. Despite signing a peace treaty with Israel, which encouraged travel and tourism between the two countries, Egypt has kept its ban firmly in place. And apparently some Arab Americans also continue to abide by travel restrictions imposed by faroff tyrants.

  Despite my vocal support for Israel, I viewed my upcoming visit with some trepidation. My mother had been graciously welcomed by Israel when she went to be with my brother as he recuperated in the Jerusalem hospital that saved his life. I had been invited to come. Israel knew of my support. Yet somewhere deep inside, I wondered, Will they accept me? Will they look at me and somehow know that my father once organized raids into Israel, killing innocent Israeli civilians? Will I accidentally meet people on the street who are the children of people my father killed? And will I pass in the street someone responsible for killing my father? Will they resent me because I come from a culture where many have sworn to annihilate them? All these mixed emotions swirled in me as I contemplated my upcoming trip.

  I flew to Israel on El Al airlines because I wanted to have the total Israel experience from start to finish. El Al has always needed to be very security conscious, and the employees of El Al were very thorough, very polite—and somewhat apologetic—when it came to searching my luggage. I told them to please do their job and that searching my luggage thoroughly did not bother me in the least.

  My trip to Israel began on the beautiful Mediterranean coast, at Ben Gurion Airport near Tel Aviv, one of the most beautiful airports I have ever been in. My heart was pounding with excitement after landing in Israel; a land that was so close physically, yet so far mentally from where I lived as a child in Gaza. Here I was, a fifty-six-year-old woman, the daughter of a man who died fighting Israel, now extending my hand to this country in peace and love. I sat in a taxi for the half-hour it took to travel from the east side of Israel to Jerusalem, the ancient holy city. In the taxicab, I looked around me. This is Israel! The forbidden country, I said to myself. I lived thirty years of my life on the other side of the southern border with Israel. Gaza was just a few kilometers to the south, and Cairo, less than one hour’s flight! I thought about how incredible it was that this country had survived, let alone thrived, with my homeland and the whole Arab world doing all they can to blame, boycott, spread propaganda, attack militarily, and terrorize this small country. It must be God’s protective hands over this little state, I thought. The sight of a sign on the road that said JERUSALEM gave me chills of anticipation. As we drove into the city, a sense of awe came over me. I felt a deep sadness for everyone in the region.

  When I was growing up I did not know the history of Jerusalem. We were taught that it was a city taken away from the Arabs by Jewish invaders. I was never taught that Jerusalem was the ancient capital of the Jews, that King Solomon built the first temple in 957 B.C., that it was destroyed in 586 B.C. and the Jews taken into exile in Babylon, that the temple was then rebuilt seventy years later, that the city was conquered and reconquered over the many thousands of years, until finally, in A.D. 70, the Romans utterly destroyed the second temple and dispersed the Jews, scattering them to the far-flung edges of the Roman Empire—Spain, Arab lands, and Europe. Jews everywhere, over the ages when they celebrate Passover, have said the words, “Next year in Jerusalem,” longing for their homeland. Furthermore, historically, when things did not go well between Jews and Arabs in Arab countries, Jews were often told by Arabs, “Why don’t you go to Jerusalem, your holy land”—a fact now conveniently forgotten.

  Many Arabs also ignore the fact that the land of Israel is also the birthplace of Christianity, the land where Jesus walked and taught. Jerusalem was the site of his crucifixion and resurrection. Therefore, indeed Jerusalem is the historically pivotal holy city for both Christians and Jews. Then six years after the death of the Prophet Muhammad, in A.D. 638, Jerusalem was captured by the Muslims. Caliph Umar built a small mosque on the site of the ruined Jewish temple, then sixty-some years later, the ruling Caliph built the more elaborate Dome of the Rock Mosque to commemorate the spot where Muhammad is said to have ascended into heaven. While Jerusalem’s Dome of the Rock is important to Muslims, Mecca and Medina are the principal holy sites for Islam.

  Growing up in Egypt, I knew nothing of this history. I was not taught that the Jews were living in Israel thousands of years before Islam even began. Instead, Arab children are taught that the Jews are the descendents of dogs and pigs, a despicable people who have usurped the Arab land of Palestine, and they must be annihilated and driven into the sea.

  When Arab students and Muslim critics at my speaking engagements insist that the Palestinians have the only rightful claim to Jerusalem, I often have asked them to imagine a reverse scenario. What if seven centuries after the Prophet Muhammad and the birth of Islam, Jews lay claim to Mecca and refused to allow Muslims to come worship at their holiest sites? That comparison often leaves my critics speechless.

  Now as I was entering this holy city, I could not help but think and long for the day when the Holy Land
can be made truly holy by giving the Jews the respect and security they deserve in their homeland. I took a moment to also remember the Christian minorities in Arab countries—people of faith forbidden to visit their Holy Land. Many of these Arab Christians, such as the Egyptian Copts, have a history that goes back more than six hundred years before the birth of Islam.

  In Bethlehem, birthplace of Jesus Christ, I visited the Church of the Nativity. I expected to see Christians milling about this holiest of sites, but the city population was predominantly Muslim. Entering the church, I noticed a tiny office off to the side. From where I stood, I could see a picture of Yasser Arafat hanging on the wall.

  The Christian population of Bethlehem began leaving in fear after the PLO took over the area starting in 1993 after the Oslo Accords. When I saw Jesus Christ’s birthplace surrounded by Muslims, I could not help but wonder how many Christians and Jews are allowed in Mecca and Medina? (The answer, of course, is zero.) Yet, to this day, Israel respects all religions, giving people of all faiths protection and access to their religious sites.

  To access Bethlehem from Jerusalem and back, I passed through a checkpoint twice. Each time, the Arab taxi driver and I were treated by Israeli soldiers with professional courtesy. I spoke with Israeli Arabs during my visit, and not one complained to me about any discrimination or expressed a wish to move elsewhere. Within Israel’s democracy, Arab women and men can vote and practice their religion freely, something Jews cannot do in twenty-two Arab Muslim countries. In fact, several Muslims told me that their travels to neighboring countries in the Middle East made them appreciate Israel’s freedoms. One recounted his experience visiting Egypt, where he was accused of being a Zionist because of his Israeli passport. He wondered aloud, “Can you imagine how they would treat us if we were Jews?”

  My last experience before leaving Tel Aviv left a lasting impression with me. I visited a small Arab pastry and falafel shop together with a prominent Israeli journalist, Smadar Perry. She told the Arab owners, who greeted her warmly as one of their valued customers, that I was from Egypt. The owners displayed that wonderful Middle Eastern graciousness and hospitality that I so much love about my culture. They didn’t want to take our money and gave us free sahlab drinks. As we enjoyed our wonderful sahlab drink, I looked around me. The place was alive with Muslim and Jewish customers who coexisted cheerfully in the store. It was a wonderful picture of perhaps what could be the future of the area—Arabs and Jews living in harmony and mutual respect.

  I know that it is possible. I pray that it will one day come to be.

  Israel is not perfect, but it has passed a test of amazing endurance, surviving and thriving in a sea of hatred, violence, and terror. Its people remain optimistic, but they desperately need relief from the fear and violence that dominates daily life. I wish the Arab world could see what I saw in Israel—a harmless state that just wants to live in peace with its neighbors.

  As I traveled across the small country of Israel and met its people, I continually asked myself: What are Arabs afraid of? Why are Arab governments going to such extensive efforts to conceal Israel from being seen for what it is in the eyes of regular Arab folks?

  Furthermore, why does the world stand by and do nothing to stop the terrorism against Israel? Worse, why do they condemn Israel when it attempts to defend itself? Even during the worst of times, Jews never flew airplanes into German buildings; they never terrorized the world even when they were being expelled, tortured, and exterminated. I cannot understand how Israel tolerated all this abuse without completely losing its moral standards, faith, and optimism. After my visit, I am even more committed to supporting Israel, a country that has been terrorized since its existence in 1948 and yet has refused to be dragged into the evil and darkness surrounding it.

  In September 2005, I was invited to speak in South Africa. In Johannesburg I was stunned to discover one of the most radical and anti-Semitic Muslim groups I have ever encountered. When I was interviewed by a radio show, I was angrily attacked by Muslim callers who accused me of loving the enemy of Islam, the Jews! I stood firm against a barrage of lies and provocations the callers threw at me, answering each question honestly. I did not flinch from defending Israel. The truth is the world is getting increasingly more anti-Semitic. Decent people should speak out against those who perpetuate these lies. To this day, Arab agitation is reviving anti-Semitism in Europe and around the globe—even in Africa. What are we afraid of? We have elevated a fear of Jews to a level that has never existed before in the history of the Middle East. Why? What is so difficult about accepting the presence of five million Jews in an ocean of a billion and a half Muslims?

  I believe that the Arab/Muslim world has lost its moral equilibrium and must travel a long road toward reformation. Their paranoid obsession with Israel as the bogeyman in the neighborhood is becoming increasingly unbelievable, and after the cheering crowds on 9/11, their cause is no longer credible.

  As an Arab, I often feel deep sadness and shame over what my people have done and are still doing to Israel. Islam should symbolize generosity and aiding the needy. Jews are not alien to our culture. We are connected through history, language, culture, and religion. Our cousins needed protection after World War II; we were obligated to give it to them. We had a golden opportunity to show the world that Islam is truly a religion of peace, compassion, and tolerance by doing the right and gracious thing in 1948, and that was accepting the UN mandate and welcoming the tiny state of Israel to our region. But instead, my people chose to emulate Hitler’s defeated monstrous mission to annihilate the Jews. We rejected Jews and denied them any right to their historical homeland. Even Middle Eastern Jews, whose culture and language are Arabic, and who now compose the largest proportion of the population of Israel, apparently did not deserve our sympathy or kindness.

  For more than fifty-eight years, Arabs have been blinded by hatred, arrogance, envy, narcissism, and groundless fear. In the process of destroying Israel, their perceived enemy, they are also destroying themselves. I sincerely want to bend on my knees and apologize to the Jewish people on behalf of my people. I am only one person, but I am encouraged by the many e-mails from Arabs who are also sickened by Arab wickedness toward Israel.

  To the people of Israel I want to say: You are an inspiration to people who choose to see the truth. You are my heroes. You are a people of faith who will not submit to the darkness and evil surrounding you. You live by honorable principles and moral standards and struggle even in your darkest hours to maintain them. Your courage, persistence, and faith have been an example to me and many other Arabs. Continue doing what you are doing; never give up; continue riding your buses, continue treating Arabs in your hospitals. Do not be in a rush for a quick peace agreement. The people in the area are not ready yet for peace. Protect yourself from terrorism and, if necessary, keep the fence up high and one day the arrogance, intolerance, and cruelty around you will end when God takes away the oil weapon from the hands of Arabs who have used it against you, the world, and ultimately themselves. The good people of the world must support you and they will. I believe that goodness always wins at the end.

  I now fully understand why the United States supports Israel and rightfully so. My love of America now extends to Israel. I support Israel because it is not a threat to Arab nations. No one in his right mind would think that Israel would want to occupy Damascus, Cairo, or Baghdad. Israel is fighting for its very existence. What are Arabs fighting for? They are not fighting for their existence; they are fighting a religious war that has become a ritual and a goal in and of itself.

  In early 2006, I was privileged to go on a “Mothers for Peace” tour with an Israeli woman, Miri Eisin, a former colonel in the Israel Defense Force with a background in intelligence. Like me, she is the mother of three children. Miri’s presentation brought to life the everyday dilemma every Israeli mother had to face during the intifada—and continues to face every day—decisions about allowing their children to take buses an
d go to public places when the terror threat is part of everyday life. Miri Eisin and I toured across the country, from Washington, D.C., to New York, to the Midwest and California, speaking to a variety of audiences as two mothers searching for peace and understanding between our two peoples, exploring ways to abolish terror and fear in our beloved Middle East and make a better world for our children.

  A few weeks later, on my London tour, I also had the privilege to speak along with another Israeli woman, Hagit Mendellevich, whose thirteen-year-old son Yuval was killed in a suicide bombing in 2003. Hagit’s pain was heartfelt, and her emotionally charged speech calling for peace struck a chord with our listeners. Our presentations did not have a political message as much as a humanitarian message in defense of the innocent children in the Middle East, both Arabs and Jews, whom we believed deserve better than to grow up with violence, war, hatred, and terror.