edat. The Deedat family claims to be a “friend” of Osama bin Laden, who is supposed to have generously contributed to the financing of their organization, the Islamic Propagation Centre (IPC). The article emphasizes that approximately $3 million dollars were transferred by the Bin Laden family to the bank account of this Islamic center over the last three years.
10 a.m.: The student delegates of the Jewish caucus (we’re around a dozen) decide to put up our own stand near the press tent, at the main entrance of the NGO Forum. Let’s do what all the others are doing. It’s time to hand out our pamphlets. Let’s explain our slogans.
At first, passersby are oddly interested in our “stand,” a simple two-meter-long wooden table, with a pile of pamphlets thrown on it. No doubt, the Israeli flag stuck on the edge of the table attracts them. By exhibiting it, we hope to show that it is possible to be friends of Israel while engaging in debate in a spirit of respect and anti-racism. Five, ten, and then about twenty people gather around us. A Swedish human rights activist asks me how I have the nerve to stand here and try to raise awareness of the ravages of antisemitism while thousands of Palestinians die every day.
I introduce myself as a European. I am not Israeli, but I have a close, intimate relationship with this country. The history of my people lives on every street corner there. I am a friend of Israel, but I do not always approve of the policies of its leaders. Yes, the Palestinians live in devastating conditions, which is truly shameful for all. I explain that I am not here to discuss the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. My role here is to examine the scourge of racism and to raise awareness of one of its many variants, antisemitism. “Murderer,” she exclaims in front of curious onlookers who cheer her. “Haven’t you ever set foot in Gaza?” she asks, closely pointing her finger at my face.
My Jewish friends come to see what is going on. They start talking to the circle gathering around. In a few seconds, our stand is surrounded by people. NGO representatives abandon their own stands and rush to be part of the excitement. It’s as if nothing else but our wretched table existed in the middle of the fair. As if giving an opinion on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict was more pressing than any other cause. Everyone shouts louder to be heard. The accusations become radical. “Israel is committing genocide!” shouts a woman. Dozens of Palestinian flags are raised and float over our table forming a rainbow of green, red, white, and black pieces of cloth in the sky. Who just hung them up?
A whole crowd is now surrounding us. People begin shouting: “You should not be allowed to have a stand! You Jews, you have become racists!” Some cry. Others say nothing, but stare at us with contempt. TV camera crews and radio journalists approach us from all sides. Click. A photo is taken. Can we interview you later on? Frankly, we have no clue how to react to all of this. We try to hold the attention of the one person facing us to at least initiate a real exchange amid the chatter from all sides. Who is wrong, Sharon or Arafat? Who suffers more, Palestinians or Israelis? The questions don’t make any sense. But if these are the questions that make the crowds so furious, if we are touching the heart of what causes so much pain and humiliation, if we have pushed the button or pressed the “central nerve system” that ignites the frustration of Palestinian sympathizers, then this taboo needs to be broken. We must talk about the politics of it all! Even if we hadn’t come to Durban to discuss the conflict between Palestinians and Israelis, let’s do it, because that is the only way we can start to have a real dialogue. Hopefully, once we find a common ground, recognize the other’s suffering, and manage to get across a fragile message of peace and hope, perhaps we can then discuss racism.
They turn toward us. “Us” meaning a dozen young twenty- somethings encircling a two-meter wooden table! For some of the conference participants who were obviously bored, this is the highlight of the day. Joining the crowd, they seize banners to testify against injustice and denounce the Jewish fascists. It turns into one of those scenes you see every day on television: a clamoring crowd waving burning flags, brandishing their fists in the air, and remonstrating with security guards, who in turn place themselves in front of our table to prevent the crowd from excessive gestures. When you watch one of these televised scenes, comfortably seated in your cozy living room in Europe, you wonder what could have brought about such a climate of revolt. But here, this anger results from our presence. The demonstrators point their fingers at us. We are at the origin of these scenes. These images are broadcast that evening on all the international television channels.
2:30 p.m.: We are handing out white T-shirts to the passersby. The front of the T-shirt bears a blue Star of David with the symbol of peace and love inside. On the back is written, “Fight against racism, not against Jews,” followed by the message of Martin Luther King, Jr.: “When people criticize Zionism, they mean the Jews.” Dozens of African women and children are wearing them.
4 p.m.: Journalists stop by to interview us. The cameras begin filming just so they are ready if a new commotion starts.
4:30 p.m.: The so-called rabbis appear again, striding from one stand to another, chatting with journalists, protesting when one of us speaks, proudly raising their “Jews against Zionism” posters in the anti-Israel demonstrations. They belong to a small sect, the Neturei Karta, who believe that the existence of the State of Israel constitutes a sin. They attend the conference as Iranian delegates though they are in no way from Iran. Despite their ultra-Orthodox dress, they nevertheless violate religious precepts by carrying their banners during the Sabbath, which is forbidden by Jewish law. They interrupt working sessions, charge toward the podiums, and hold up signs stating, “Israel does not represent world Jewry. End Zionist occupation and oppression now.” They are welcomed by a burst of applause. What a show! African Zionists and antisemitic rabbis are running along each other!
At first, we believe it’s all a huge joke. We can hardly decide if the situation is amusing, sad, or scandalous. The German television network ZDF attempts to interview one of them to get a “Jewish perspective on the Durban event.” Julian explains that in no way do they represent the Jewish people.
End of the day: Daphné and Diane are walking to and from, irritated by not accomplishing anything constructive. They are fed up with explaining themselves. Let us do something positive. They contact a representative of the AFSC Roma Youth Delegation from Europe, an NGO that fights for the recognition of the rights of Romani people in Central Europe. They offer to co-draft a declaration. The idea is to bring together two minorities and exchange best practices for fighting discrimination in Europe. We hope to recall our common history—the genocide committed by the Nazis, called the Shoah by the Jews and the Porajmos by the Roma—to create networks for better coordination in our educational work, and to organize common public information campaigns. Jewish and Romani delegates meet repeatedly; we listen to one another, discuss, and work on a joint statement. We present the final version to our respective organizations. Our student union plans to organize a press conference to show that the work in Durban can be constructive. But the representative of AFSC must still sign off on the final text. Diane and Daphné are called into a meeting. “Sorry, we cannot participate in this project anymore,” the Romani representative says meekly. But good Lord, why not? This is nothing more than a typical project carried out between youth organizations. No controversy here. Just a positive message between two European minorities, coupled with a basic commitment to work together! “Sorry, we received some advice not to work with you.” Diane and Daphné would find out the true reason a little while later: “We support the Palestinian cause. If we work with you, all the NGOs will shut the door in our faces. Furthermore, we need to think about our safety here in Durban,” he explains, his glance downcast.
All of our projects are shot down at the root. What’s the use of getting involved?
6 p.m.: Julian goes to the working session on “Colonialism, Foreign Occupation, Palestinians, and New Forms of Apartheid.” He recognizes a bunch of new friends who represent the indigenous populations of Colombia and Ecuador. They had met earlier, stumbling across one another’s paths in the airport, waiting for the plane to Durban. At the boarding gate in Charles de Gaulle International Airport at 3 a.m. in the morning, our two groups began chatting about music, books, and art. Some of them were strumming a guitar; others were speaking about their journeys to Latin America. On the plane, we promised to discover the nightlife of Durban together, go out, drink some beers, and tour the local bars. Delighted to see them again, Julian greets them. The debate in the room is focused on Israel. Again, the Jewish state is being depicted as the last fascist bastion to be isolated from the international community.