At a personal level, like many other Australians, I experienced the Hamas attacks of October 7th as deeply distressing. While I had been aware of the systematic and often brutal oppression of the Palestinian people over many decades, I was shocked and saddened by the random killing and kidnapping of Israeli civilians. My own adult children commonly attend music festivals and the footage of young people being hunted and killed was unthinkable. What brought the horror of these acts even closer to home was talking to my cousin. She had lived on a kibbutz as a young woman and married an Israeli man. They had returned to Australia together and raised a family. The kibbutz where they first met is located near Gaza and several of their friends had been murdered or kidnapped. Their whole family was in deep shock. I could only empathise with their grief and anger.

 My shock at the actions of Hamas, however, was soon eclipsed as I witnessed the unfolding response of the Israeli government. It is distressing enough to witness massive scale humanitarian crises which are the result of natural disasters such as earthquakes and tsunamis. The type of crises where thousands of innocent people are killed and injured, where people are deprived of basic necessities such as food, water and medical care and vital human infrastructure is totally destroyed. In this case, however, the humanitarian crisis was the result of a carefully planned military operation which seemed to be designed to inflict maximum suffering on the people of Gaza, a population made up, predominantly, of innocent civilians – including families and children. And this time the military operation was not being implemented by a “rogue” nation ruled by a crazed dictator. The massive and unrelenting terror was not being unleashed by an “enemy” nation. It was being implemented by the government of an advanced western democracy, a “civilised” country which we regard as a “friend”. It was being implemented by people “like us”. It was also being actively supported by our key “ally”, the United States, which provides over a billion dollars in military aid to Israel every year. What compounded my growing distress and disbelief was the lack of an unequivocal condemnation of these actions by many of our Australian politicians.

 In talking to my family and friends, however, I was aware of the temptation to see the situation from a “black and white” perspective. To give in to our instinctive human tendency to divide people into neat categories – the “good” guys and the “bad” guys. To see people as either our “friends” or our “enemies”. In this case, to either side with Israel or side with the Palestinians and to then allow ourselves to interpret everything that happens in a selective and biased way. I was uncomfortable in thinking about the conflict in these terms – through the familiar lens of “tribalism”. The actions of Hamas were clearly evil – despite the history of brutal oppression by Israel. The actions of the Israeli government were also clearly evil – despite the murderous actions of Hamas on October 7th. I attempted to think about the conflict in different terms. To identify the “enemy” in a different way. Not in terms of a particular group of people but in terms of the use of violence as a means of solving human problems. This, I concluded, is the real “enemy”. This is what needs to be condemned and resisted – the use of violence in all its various forms. It doesn’t matter who is perpetrating the violence. It doesn’t matter whether it is our “friends” or our “enemies”. It doesn’t matter whether it is our own “tribe” or another “tribe”.

 This was the spirit in which I decided to participate in the Gaza Pilgrimage. To express my condemnation of the use of violence by both Hamas and the Israeli government and to express solidarity with all those who were suffering – including members of my own family, some of whom were now expressing fears of a growing level of antisemitism across the Australian community.

 Which brings us back to that cold, grey morning in regional Victoria, now turning into a cold, grey afternoon. The great thing about a 20 km walk, particularly along a relatively flat country road, is that you have a chance to chat. And no-one was in a particular hurry. It was a slow and leisurely stroll for more than five hours. One person, to set the scene, had brought their dog in a pram. The traffic was light, and some cars tooted as they passed. We generously concluded that every blaring horn was intended as a sign of strong support. No one tried to run us over. One of my first conversations was with a young man whose parents had emigrated from the West Bank many years ago. They still “owned” a house in East Jerusalem. He had visited relatives in the West Bank several times while growing up. He was highly educated and highly intelligent, and we talked mostly about his deep interest in spirituality and various forms of meditative practice. We talked less about the situation in Gaza. I had lots of other memorable conversations, but the last one was possibly the most significant. This was with the organiser of the Pilgrimage for Gaza and one of the founders of the Free Palestine group in Ballarat. He had grown up in the UK and, during the 90’s, had been part of a local youth delegation invited by Yasser Arafat to undertake a tour of Gaza and the West Bank. Since that trip, he told me, he has been a passionate supporter of Palestinian rights. In this case we did talk politics. He was unimpressed with my attempt to be more “impartial”, particularly when I expressed a view that, at certain points, the Palestinians might have also contributed to a lack of progress on the successful negotiation of a “two state solution”. He then went on to suggest that many Palestinians did not actually want a “two state solution”. What they really wanted, he told me, was a single state. A free and democratic Palestine where Palestinians and Israelis could live together as equals. He also suggested that any level of “impartiality” needed to be based on an understanding of the full history of the Palestinian conflict. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, I nodded my agreement.

 We completed the walk into Ballarat as the light faded and the street lights came on. The last few kilometres seemed to drag – and we had only done half the walk. Most of the others had been walking since early morning and were now tiring. After the official photos and thankyous the three of us marked the end of the walk with an ice cream. For me, overall, it was a gentle and meditative experience – rewarding as well as challenging. It was a purely symbolic act but somehow I felt slightly less helpless and slightly less distressed. I felt more connected to other people who were feeling the same things. I felt a bit more connected to the people of Gaza.

 There is also an important postscript. Since the Pilgrimage, as suggested, I have undertaken some further research into the history of Palestine, going back to the period before WW1. What I have discovered, so far, has been surprising. The organiser of the Pilgrimage was right. It has fundamentally changed the way I view the Palestinian issue. This is not the place to set out the details of this history. But the underlying story, it seems, is how Britain and the victorious Western Allies, after both World Wars, continued to carve up Palestine to meet a range of political and economic interests – including those of the Jewish people – with little regard for the interests of the Palestinian people who already lived there.  My better understanding of this history has led me, at one level, to be less “impartial”. Not in the sense of identifying one group of people as “good” and another as “bad”. But in understanding the long-term oppression which has been inflicted on the Palestinian people by our “friends” and “allies”. It has also led me to identify another key “enemy”. It is not only the use of violence which must be challenged and resisted. It is also the use of deception. The strategy of creating a false narrative which is selective and biased, either consciously or unconsciously. A strategy of not acknowledging the whole truth in order to serve our own interests or those of our “friends” and “allies”.