At a recent visit with a Palestinian-Israeli friend in the Lower Galilee, where I live, I invited her to come to a local conference organized by Standing Together, a joint Jewish-Arab Israeli national activist movement working for peace, equality and justice, in which I have been involved for the past several years. My local chapter has about 700 members, almost twice as many as a year ago, before the war. There are seven other chapters throughout the country.
The movement was founded, in 2015, on this central principle: We can only create a better future for all people of both nations if we work together on equal footing, beginning here in Israel where Palestinian and Jewish Israeli citizens live side by side. Although many other joint movements have seriously struggled or even fallen apart during the course of this war, ours has grown and flourished. People are looking for this connection, especially now, and for a chance to work together to change our reality. It feels like the only hope.
As part of one of the breakaway sessions planned for the Standing Together conference, I was going to be facilitating a discussion about a government operation, carried out by the police under National Security Minister Itamar Ben-Gvir, to scare Israeli Arabs into silence and inaction over unrealized fears that Hamas would try to incite them to riot.
My friend knew what I was referring to. All Palestinian Israelis are well aware of the many stories of Israeli Arabs being arrested or forced to leave their jobs because of social media posts, or even just acts of public speaking, that express sympathy for Gazans or dare to outright condemn IDF actions in Gaza. She said she thought the cause important, but she did not want to come.
“I was an activist most of my life, since I was a student,” she said. “But I see no hope now for change, not with this government. And now this war, and the silencing, and the terrible organized crime in our community. I’ve decided to focus on my career and my family. I’ve given up.”
I understood her frustration. Earlier this month, Ben-Gvir threatened to revoke the citizenship of Bedouin Israelis from the town of Rahat who participated in a humanitarian aid drive for Gazan civilians, an initiative organized by Standing Together. “We should throw them out of the State of Israel,” he said.
Humanitarian aid collected for civilians in Gaza at a warehouse in Umm al-Fahem, Israel, Aug. 11, 2024. (Jacob Ner-David)
Standing Together’s original plan was to hire one big truck to go from one Arab town to another, across the country, collecting donations of supplies, which would then be transported across the border and distributed to Gazan civilians through an international organization. But already at the first site, the northern Arab city of Sakhnin, it became clear more than one truck would be needed. At that first site alone, volunteers filled three trucks.
I volunteered at the fourth collection site, at another northern Arab city, Umm El Fahem, where we collected 29 trucks-full of aid. It was amazing to see the line of cars, extending outside the city, all with supplies their drivers had purchased out of pocket — many who then joined in the unpacking and loading. It was hard to see through my tears of gratitude as I sorted cans of tuna fish and baby formula, bags of legumes and flour, and packages of diapers and menstrual pads.
And what made it more moving, was that we were doing this together — Palestinian and Jewish Israelis of all ages, including children, the elderly, and the physically challenged, even amid a war between our nations. This was the first time I had experienced this kind of mass partnership initiative since before the war, and it was certainly the first time since then that had I witnessed Arab Israelis coming out in such large numbers for a cause.
Before the war, back in January 2023, Standing Together organized the first mass demonstration against the government in Tel Aviv, drawing thousands of Arabs and Jews. I was exhilarated and hopeful to see such a large turnout, feeling the power of joining together to fight what we knew even back then would be a catastrophic government.
A week later, the Jewish-led anti-government demonstrations began, which alienated many potential Palestinian Israeli partners because of the very Jewish symbol chosen by the demonstrators — the Israeli flag. Nevertheless, over the months before Oct. 7, increasingly more Arab speakers were featured at the many weekly demonstrations across the country, and there was a move towards being more inclusive. A wider variety of protesters began showing up, including Standing Together groups, with our signature purple signs, messages written in Arabic and Hebrew against the occupation and the Nation-State Law, and calling for true democracy for all.
In August 2023, a huge “March of the Dead” — organized and initiated by Arab-run organizations and partnership organizations like Standing Together — took place in Tel Aviv, to raise awareness about an organized crime wave that has led to the deaths of many Arab citizens, and demand action. That was another high point for our movement, another ray of light in the darkness. I knew the hope for this country and region lay there — in Palestinians and Jews marching side by side, praying, as Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel said, with our feet.
There was a hiatus of several months in the big protests after Oct. 7, but now they are going strong again, even if not reaching the peak crowds of before the war. Despair and confusion have set in among many of the less hard-core activists, but especially among the Arab population. Since the war started, most Palestinian Israelis are afraid to speak out, or feel paralyzed by despair — like my friend, the former student activist.
A two-week-long drive to collect humanitarian aid for civilians in Gaza, organized by Standing Together, filled some 300 trucks with supplies. (Jacob Ner-David)
While I have been to various small Arab-led protests after Oct. 7, the only one where I saw thousands of Palestinian Israelis was the “March of Return,” a Palestinian nationalist march held once a year to commemorate the Nakba, their name for the “catastrophe” of Israel’s successful war for independence, although that was less of a demonstration and more of a annual solidarity march, somewhat like the Israeli Day Parade in Manhattan.
But if one adds up how many came to the eight official (and additional pop-up) sites during Standing Together’s humanitarian aid collection campaign, the number would be more like tens of thousands — if not more. By the end of the humanitarian aid drive, which was extended a few extra days to include a couple more sites, we filled 300 trucks with supplies. This is a stunning number, over 300 times what the organizers had anticipated.
How to explain this extremely enthusiastic response to Standing Together’s call?
Giving to Gazans is an act of charity, but also of resistance, a way of protesting the ongoing war and the methods being used by the IDF and Hamas, which exact a price from common people. It is a safer way to protest, as long as Ben-Gvir does not act on his threats to expel participants, since it is one that does not require facing police or risking being arrested and blacklisted.
Plus, this type of resistance is not only about criticizing; it is about creating an alternate reality — a more humanist, non-violent, positive, and cooperative one. People were ordering pizzas and sandwiches and handing out the food to everyone, no matter their mother tongue, or religious or cultural backgrounds. The positive energy of working together for a common cause is life- and humanity-affirming.
There is a temptation to focus on the Israeli Jews who are taking part in these actions, just as there is a temptation to equate Israeliness with Jewishness. However, we can’t hope to defeat this far-right government and the trend towards extreme Jewish nationalism in this country without our Arab citizens on board.
Some Palestinian Israeli volunteers in the humanitarian drive, new to Standing Together, said this was the first time they had seen Jewish sympathy for Palestinian suffering. To encourage this crucial 20% of the Israeli population to come out and protest — and hopefully one day soon, vote in early elections — requires listening to their needs, supporting their causes, being mindful of their sensitivities, and showing we Jews have their backs.
I wish my friend had come with me to volunteer. I wish she had stepped out of her comfort zone and back into her power. I wish she could believe once again in humanity and our ability to create the change we want to see in this country and on this land from the river to the sea.
Too many people here — Arabs and Jews — are too despairing to stand up and demand change. But change will certainly not happen if we don’t stand up for it. And if we stand together, the chances are so much greater that it will.
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