From Challenge # 74  July-August 2002

conscientious objectors

Refusal is not just a right, but a duty

Rotem Avgar

Rotem Avgar, an 11th grader from Giv'atayim, is a member of the Forum in Support of Conscientious Objectors. She delivered the following talk at a conference in solidarity with refusers, held at Camera Obscura, a film school, on June 6.

My doubts about serving in the army began very early. The more I thought about it, the more I felt that the firm ground I had grown up on was turning to quicksand. At last it became clear to me that I would not serve.

In the phenomenon of refusal, Israel sees a failure of its educational system. The society is appalled to discover that we're not all rushing into uniform, that the most exciting day of our life may not be the day we enter the army – not even the moment of getting a beret.

I am appalled by other things: by humane and beautiful youngsters who fail to see their army of "defense" for what it is: a weapon of slaughter, oppressive and destructive. It is astonishing to discover the power that conventional ideas still have over them, and it's frightening to see how little consciousness or care exists in an age-group supposed to be idealistic.

We live among people who view the lives of Palestinians as less important, their culture as less advanced and enlightened. "Terrorists" they call them now. In the time of the Oslo-peace they were seen as servants, creatures of a lower order. After each attack, Israelis awake from their self-satisfied euphoria, bewildered. They don't understand why this has fallen on them. They call out to "let 'em have it!" They squeeze into their old uniforms and report for duty, bald and pot-bellied, to "wipe them out" – and if need be, "to die for our country".

And we, the refusers, appall them. They cluck and shake their heads and sigh. Some politely suggest that we take the first plane out. Others propose that we jump in the sea. If we want, they'll push us. "My son/daughter will be drafted to protect you," they murmur self-righteously. Well, I have news for these parents and educators in Israel. You might not wind up driving your kids to induction, but to the Conscience Committee.*

My parents won't cross their fingers for me when I go before the Conscience Committee. They'll probably look at each other and ask, "Whose fault is this?" The male refusers will go to prison. But the struggle of the refuser doesn't begin and end with the outward act of refusal itself. Refusal is an inward thing, and this is especially important in Israel, where the army is not just a body but a way of life.

Some people call me a traitor. But I know that if I were to join the army and take the oath before the flag at the end of training, then I'd really be a traitor. I'd be betraying myself and my principles. I'd be betraying my society and all those living around me.

Refusal, nowadays, is not just a right. It's a duty.

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