When I signed up for an exchange to the University of Edinburgh, I knew I was in for a cultural experience. But I had no idea what that experience would entail. A small episode of the fiercest political debate in the world soon got out of control, and I was caught in the crossfire.
In coming to Scotland, I had the intention of rediscovering my essential self. So far the most telling experiences have come about through joining various societies. I literally went quite wild trying out societies: from running to swing dancing to helping refugees to young entrepreneurs to theatre making to theatre watching to trampoline. Most of these had very little effect on me, and I little effect on them. However two hit very close to home: one representing the political left, and the other Jewish society.
First I have to impart to you how close the political left is to me. It is deeply ingrained in my family. Informed debate around the dinner table-to quite a geeky level-has saturated my life from a tender age. This debate is characterized with very distinct ideals: redistribution of wealth, religious and political tolerance, a belief in social mobility, and the right to health and education. Some of the first political stands I took as an independent person were those epitomized by "culture jamming" and "no logo." I still, in a vague, nostalgic way, sympathize with the ideals of the 1990s anti-globalization movement.
So when I got here and found that there were people of that mindset, in a group called People & Planet, I got quite excited. Their past achievements were numerous: making the University of Edinburgh a "fair trade university," boycotting Nestle, and establishing ethical standards for the investment of the university's endowment. Wow! I'd never seen activists be so successfully active. My beliefs and idealism were renewed. I did notice from the beginning that there were many Palestinian solidarity neck scarves among this group, but that didn't matter too much to me.
Every school year starts off with some Jewish holidays. As an agnostic who errs on the side of tradition, I wanted to try and participate. The only way to really do this was through the Jewish society. I am also taking a course studying the Holocaust - my first-ever Jewish studies course. I am not normally at all involved in Jewish life, but I guess I am searching to fill the emotional hole in my life here created by my family's absence.
Soon, however, there was a build-up of tension about an issue I had not wanted to confront: Israel-Palestine. I kept on thinking that I could continue to live this double life. None of my Jewish friends needed to know I fraternized with Palestinian sympathizers; none of the activists needed to know that I believe in the idea of the state of Israel.
But the Palestinian Solidarity group brought forward a motion before EUSA, the students' governing body, which I really couldn't ignore. This motion became the main focus of People & Planet, and it overshadowed everything else they did. The group was trying to twin this university with one in Palestine. Despite the carefully-chosen wording, the proposal fundamentally put the full weight of the student society behind support for the Palestinian side in the debate. Though unsure of my beliefs regarding Zionism, I could not support this motion.
So I was frozen. I went to various meetings but couldn't bring myself to speak. I could oppose the motion on my own, but to oppose it among the proponents was impossible. The last few days of the campaign pressed on to their thrilling climax. The campus was wallpapered with posters in favour of and against the motion, including those put up by the Jewish society that associated the West Bank university with Hamas. Finally, it came to the day of the vote. I passed by the activist campaigners urging me to come and vote, not knowing that I planned to vote against them. I went to the Jewish society meeting discussing how they were going to proceed, and they were generally downcast but optimistic.
I show up the night of the vote and try to sit next to no one I know. The only seat I find ended up being almost front row centre. I can see all the activists to my left; I can see a friend I've made, a faithful Muslim who does not know I am Jewish; and I can see the Jewish society behind me
The debate starts. Everything I could think of to say to support my position is said by others. Many arguments are put forth, not all of them effective, but I think the proponents generally come off better.
The actual vote-hands up in favour. All my activist friends have their hands in the air. It feels like the entire room has their hands in the air. My hand is down; everyone can see that I am opposed. Hands up opposed-not as many, obviously, but did the winning side get enough to pass the motion?
Yes. By 15 votes.
This experience has truly cast me out into a sea of doubt. How can I hope to promote my idealistic views if I know so intimately what it's like to deeply disagree with proposed change? Can I be an activist? Do I want to take part in a movement of reaction to this motion? Can I rejoin my leftist friends and bite my lip in their celebration?
I want to form an identity and make friends freely in a way that doesn't disrupt my values. But with an identity like mine, in a political climate as hot as this, the two are inextricably intertwined.
