Rights-Based Community Practice and Academic Activism in a Turbulent World: Putting Theory into Practice in Israel, Palestine and Jordan 0367254646, 9780367254643

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Rights-Based Community Practice and Academic Activism in a Turbulent World

Drawing on a theoretical model of coexistence premised on universality, reciprocity and inclusion, this book focusses on the development of academic social work programs and cross-border partnerships to promote social justice and peace in Israel, Palestine, and Jordan. Using the model of rights-based practice initiated by Professor Torczyner in Montreal and bought to the Middle East in the 1990s, it shows how the creation and brokering of cross-border partnerships added the concept of rights-based practice to the lexicon of these countries, established groundbreaking advocacy centers in the hearts of disadvantaged communities, developed academic social work programs, and initiated important policy changes in each country to reduce inequality and promote social inclusion. Showing how this evolving method of rights-based practice rooted in theories of coexistence was uniquely adapted in different contexts and cultures while negotiating complex, volatile political environments, it illustrates how long-term peace can be advanced when likeminded people – irrespective of nationality or religion – find ways to promote common interest and a regional culture where all people share the same rights. This book will be of interest to all social work students and practitioners interested in community organization and rights-based practice, as well as scholars, policymakers, and practitioners of international development, political science, peace studies, Jewish studies, Middle Eastern studies, reconciliation, and conflict resolution. Jim Torczyner is Professor of Social Work and founder of the McGill Middle East Program in civil society and peace building (renamed ICAN McGill), which is the subject of this book. Jim joined the faculty at McGill University in 1973 after obtaining his MSW and DSW degrees from the University of California, Berkeley. Professor Torczyner has been directly involved in social work, human rights education, and the development of social movements for well over a half-century.

Routledge Advances in Social Work

Asian Social Work Professional Work in National Contexts Edited by Ian Shaw and Rosaleen Ow Critical Hospital Social Work Practice Daniel Burrows Challenges, Opportunities and Innovations in Social Work Field Education Edited by Ronnie Egan, Nicole Hill and Wendy Rollins The Challenge of Nationalist Populism for Social Work A Human Rights Approach Edited by Carolyn Noble and Goetz Ottmann Reforming Child Welfare in the Post-Soviet Space Institutional Change in Russia Meri Kulmala, Maija Jäppinen, Anna Tarasenko and Anna Pivovarova Women, Vulnerabilities and Welfare Service Systems Edited by Marjo Kuronen, Elina Virokannas and Ulla Salovaara Post-Anthropocentric Social Work Critical Posthuman and New Materialist Perspectives Edited by Vivienne Bozalek and Bob Pease Rights-Based Community Practice and Academic Activism in a Turbulent World Putting Theory into Practice in Israel, Palestine and Jordan Jim Torczyner For more information about this series, please visit: www.routledge.com/ Routledge-Advances-in-Social-Work/book-series/RASW

Rights-Based Community Practice and Academic Activism in a Turbulent World Putting Theory into Practice in Israel, Palestine and Jordan Jim Torczyner

First published 2021 by Routledge 2 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon OX14 4RN and by Routledge 52 Vanderbilt Avenue, New York, NY 10017 Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2021 Jim Torczyner The right of Jim Torczyner to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. British Library Cataloguing-in-Publication Data A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Names: Torczyner, James L., author. Title: Rights-based community practice and academic activism in a turbulent world : putting theory into practice in Israel, Palestine and Jordan / Jim Torczyner. Description: Milton, Abingdon, Oxon ; New York, NY : Routledge, 2021. | Series: Routledge advances in social work | Includes bibliographical references and index. Identifiers: LCCN 2020034460 (print) | LCCN 2020034461 (ebook) | ISBN 9780367254643 (hardback) | ISBN 9780429295508 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Social work education—Israel. | Social workers— Training of—Israel. | Social work education—West Bank. | Social workers—Training of—West Bank. | Social work education—Gaza Strip. | Social workers—Training of—Gaza Strip. | Social work education—Jordan. | Social workers—Training of—Jordan. Classification: LCC HV11 .T59 2021 (print) | LCC HV11 (ebook) | DDC 361.3071/15694—dc23 LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020034460 LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020034461 ISBN: 978-0-367-25464-3 (hbk) ISBN: 978-0-429-29550-8 (ebk) Typeset in Baskerville by Apex CoVantage, LLC

Contents

Acknowledgments 1 The evolution of an academic activist

vi 1

2 Dancing between the raindrops: the politics of totally locally owned

27

3 Crossing boundaries

69

4 It’s about relationships: the launching of the McGill Middle East program in Civil Society and Peace Building

104

5 You don’t have to love your neighbor – just accept that you have one: a regional program with Israeli, Jordanian, and Palestinian partners takes form

134

6 Moving toward the people

158

7 Empowering the marginalized in times of violent conflict

189

8 Advancing peace

228

9 Furthering the vision in practice

259

10 Survival and transformation in the wilderness

294

Epilogue

312

References Appendix 1: A model of rights-based community practice Index

318 330 356

Acknowledgments

I first wish to acknowledge those individuals who passed away during the writing of this book over the last three years and who were instrumental in their assistance, support and guidance in the development and implementation of our Middle East Program. These include Avner Amiel, my mentor a central figure in Israel’s major social justice movements since 1960; Gretta Chambers, OC, QC Chancellor of McGill, noted columnist, and co-chair of our International Advisory Board; the Honorable Herbert Marx, Justice of the Quebec Superior Court and former Minister of Justice and Attorney General who co-chaired our Executive committee; Professor Charles Lusthaus, who gave of his expertise in program evaluation and capacity building directly to our partners; and Kappy Flanders C.M., M.S.M, member of the McGill Board of Governors who championed ICAN within the university and in the community at large. I wish to thank Professor Neil Gilbert. Neil chaired my dissertation almost 50 years ago and has been a close friend, advisor, critic, and thoughtful provocateur to push me forward in my writing. Lisa Van Dusen, Associate Editor of Policy magazine provided me with excellent editorial advice and commentary. Professor Francis Fox Piven gave me critical reviews of many of the chapters in this book, as did organizer and poet extraordinaire – Jim Olwell – and “le grand professeur” Jean Panet Raymond. I wish to thank Professor Roni Kaufman of Ben Gurion for his important research on the establishment of Community Advocacy in Israel. Many others helped me by providing data, detail, and commentary. I particularly wish to acknowledge the contributions of Professor Merav Moshe Grodofsky at Sapir Academic College; Varsen Aghabekian of the President’s Office of the Palestinian Authority; Sami Al-Kilani – poet physicist, peace activist, and friend from An Najah University; Professor Talal Qdah at the University of Jordan, who was the driving force for rights-based practice in Jordan; Manar Assali Director of the Jerusalem Community Advocacy Network; Amit Kitain, Director of Mezach rights-based centers based in Sderot; and Eddie Gedalof, former Director of Community Advocacy-Lod. Special thanks to Amal El Sana, feminist, activist, and Executive Director of ICAN for her work in sustaining the program and guiding it to a new future with the assistance of her team Hanya Omar, Hend Alqawasma, and Dominique Sherab.

Acknowledgments

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Lastly, an overall shout out to Bernard Shapiro O.C. GOQ – former Principal and Vice Chancellor of McGill University under whose leadership the inspiration for this program was able to flourish – and to H.M. Queen Noor of Jordan, whose support and visits to McGill greatly enhanced the program. And thank you and gratitude to all the students, volunteers, faculty, and staff who helped form this vision of peace and social justice for all in the Middle East.

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This book describes my 25-year experience of engaging core academic institutions in Canada, Israel, Jordan, and Palestine to work side-by-side in a common effort to promote in the most disadvantaged neighborhoods the central idea that all people share the same rights. This process, which evolved without a long-term plan or design, intuitively understood the interconnectedness of reducing inequality within each country and promoting peace between them. To do so in Middle East conflict zones required a respected, neutral convener. That role has been filled by the International Community Action Network (ICAN)1 at McGill University on the institutional front and by Canada as our base. Moving forward was premised on a fundamental belief that the core values of peace, justice, and equality were shared by and transmitted in each country and culture and that it was possible to attract individuals and leaders who would champion the ideas of rights-based community practice and academic–community partnerships with a combination of passion and imagination that could deliver unique results. How this came about and what was achieved among institutions and people who had no prior relationship with each other and whose history has been replete with violence, fear, and blame is the subject of this book. This concerns not just practitioners, including those who are interested in rightsbased community practice, international development, and the Middle East. It also directly concerns anyone interested in war and peace, economic and social security, coexistence, globalization, and the management of uncertainty, trust, identity, and meaning. It understands the centrality of these concepts and underscores their accessibility in the telling of this story. The book seeks to capture how this evolving method of rights-based practice – rooted in the ultimate pursuit of coexistence, grounded in multidisciplinary theory, and uniquely adapted in different contexts and cultures – negotiated complex, volatile political environments while pushing forward a regional culture that all people share the same rights. *** During the summer of 1974, I was a young community organizer door-knocking in the melting-pot Montreal neighborhood of Côte-des-Neiges. I had arrived a year earlier from Berkeley as an American, Jewish single father whose highschool French from New York City limited my outreach potential in the mostly

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francophone city as I launched a rights-based community practice project from my new job as an assistant professor of social work at McGill University. I started in Côte-des-Neiges because it was – and remains – where many of the city’s longestablished Jewish community organizations are and where the number of poor Jewish citizens belies the clichés about wealth in a city whose vibrant Jewish heritage produced both the Bronfmans and Leonard Cohen. One day, as I was door-knocking, I tried a basement apartment in a rundown building that hadn’t answered on previous occasions. This time, someone opened the door; a man who was old, pale, and had an intense, hollow aura about him. His entire apartment – walls, ceilings, and floor – was painted black, and there was very little furniture. As the son of Holocaust survivors, I instinctively glanced and saw the number tattooed on his forearm from a Nazi death camp. He spoke only Polish and Yiddish, so my English and Hebrew were of little use. After reassuring him non-verbally that I was there to help, I wrote my name and phone number on a piece of paper, placed it in his hand, looked directly into his eyes and let him know that I would be there for him. Three weeks later, I got a call from the police, who’d found my number. They said that, about once a month, they’d find him in the middle of the night out in the street, stark naked and screaming. “And, what do you do?” I asked. “We bring him to the station or the hospital.” “And then what?” “We pick him up the next time.” I went back to this man’s apartment with David Rome, a historian and archivist from the Canadian Jewish Congress, who spoke both Polish and Yiddish. Haltingly, the man shared his story. He had been liberated from the Treblinka concentration camp, where he was to be murdered by the Nazis on a date they had informed him of. His bunkmates had carved out an opening in the side of a wall that he could barely squeeze into and hid him inside. He would stand in that small space all day. He couldn’t eat, speak, move, or go to the bathroom. At night, his comrades let him out. Now, late at night, he would go out into the streets and scream for someone – perhaps the very stars themselves – to hear his pain. Somehow, he landed in Montreal within walking distance of services, synagogues, and community institutions in Côte-des-Neiges, but no one knew of him. Shortly after he finished his story, there was a knock at the door. A middle-aged black woman handed him some torn clothes to repair and one dollar. He took them and nodded his head, and she left. I knocked on her door. “Excuse me, but do you by any chance speak Polish?” She smiled and said, I don’t have to speak Polish to feel that man’s pain. As a Black woman, I feel it and it’s deep. And I’ll tell you something. Those clothes weren’t torn. I rip them myself, and then give him a dollar to repair them – he used to be a tailor over there. And you know why I do it? Because every human being has a right to feel he is a part of something.

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I was blown away. I had a doctorate in social work from a very respectable American university and this woman – her name was Jasmine Williams – had just lit up my world. She opened my imagination to the possibility that there were other people like her, motivated not by self-interest but by a desire to do the right thing and to find meaning, power, faith, and solidarity in helping others – people who could be organized to advocate on behalf of their neighbors. In one conversation, Jasmine Williams taught me to believe in the unharnessed power of practical altruism – to search out and find people like her in some of the world’s most fraught, preoccupied, and occupied neighborhoods. She was the inspiration for the model of rights-based practice I developed first in Canada at Project Genesis, then adapted to the Middle East with the McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building (MMEP). Jasmine’s simple act of kindness wasn’t based on self-interest. That limited view of human behavior and potential reduces humanity to its lowest common denominator and distorts the very foundations of rights-based practice: reciprocity, altruism, finding joy and meaning in doing what’s right not because one is compelled or obligated to do so. Ideals, morality, and faith are but some of the forces that shape possibilities and contours for coexistence and form the substance of social capital in every community. Trust, solidarity, identity, and the meaning we seek in our lives are more powerful motivations. Promoting change from a rights perspective begins when people understand that they have rights and can access them. It is rooted in three principles. The first is that all people share the same rights. This is the idea of universality and universal human and social rights. The second concerns reciprocity. We have the right to live in reciprocal relationships with the expectation that all members have the opportunity and possibility to influence each other. The third idea is the right to be included – to be full participants and that as a society we will safeguard the rights and include those individuals unable to exercise their rights on their own. Jasmine William’s example would reverberate first in Côte-des-Neiges with the establishment of Project Genesis and then in the Middle East – In Israel, in Palestine, and in Jordan. This is the subject matter of this book, and throughout it you will meet many other people imbued with the same passion as Jasmine. It is always individual people coming together to pursue a shared vision that produces transformational change. This book is really the story of these people – including our graduates; persons of influence in each country; supporters abroad; academics and practitioners; Jews, Christians, and Muslims; ordinary people struggling; and the highest levels of aristocracy who were joined together through a loose association to support this very vision and became its architects. The kind of people you will get to know in the following chapters include Sami Al-Kilani, a Palestinian poet who was a delegate to the historic Madrid Conference on the Middle East Peace Process and also an Amnesty Prisoner of Conscience who was imprisoned for five years during the first intifada because his poetry was deemed “inciteful.” Upon his release, he founded much of the Palestinian nonviolent activity for independence and reconciliation. He wrote joint

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scripts for Israeli and Palestinian Sesame Street. Sami Al-Kilani – a member of the second fellowship cohort (1998–2000) has impressed me greatly and taught me much. I often quote him: “I will struggle for independence as if Palestine was a true democracy, and I will struggle for Palestine to be a true democracy as if we were an independent country.” Amal El Sana is a Bedouin feminist from an unrecognized village in Israel and a member of our first fellowship cohort in 1997–98. Amal founded the Arab Jewish Center for Equality, Empowerment and Cooperation, which has become a major force representing the Bedouin community through a range of projects and a multi-million-dollar budget. Amal completed her PhD in 2017 and is now the executive director of ICAN. Her journey from herding sheep in the Negev as a girl to becoming an internationally respected social justice activist has captivated scores through her TED talks. Merav Moshe Grodofsky, who grew up in Long Island, New York, moved to Israel when she was 19, became the coordinator of fieldwork at Ben-Gurion University, and was my partner in implementing the first center in Beersheba under the auspices of BGU. Merav later went on to do an interdisciplinary PhD in social work and law, which I had the pleasure of supervising, focused on the interrelationship of rights-based practice and peace building. Merav became the director of the school of social work at Sapir College in Sderot, where she pioneered three rights-based centers serving underserviced, at-risk communities along the Gaza border. These are a few of the many people who have stuck together for a quarter century – despite often seemingly insurmountable obstacles. It’s the chemistry among these people and the ideas they brought to the table that generated the ability to think about and take risks with footsteps into the unknown. Prompted by passionate beliefs that we all share the same rights and that there are things that we can do together to advance them – even in war-stricken environments – by focusing on those things that we have in common, on those dreams that we share together, and on our ability to reciprocate with one another. True longstanding partnerships developed because joining together served the interests of each partner. And while all this was unplanned and unexpected, the players and their institutions found ways to dodge, bounce off of, and find their way through and around a variety of unexpected political, economic, and social events that reshaped local communities, the region, and the world. There are numerous examples everyday – and increasingly so in the age of social media – whereby people in the same neighborhood or across the globe take up causes and identify with the struggle of others in matters from which they derive no personal benefit and in expressions that we share the same rights, the same planet, and the same destiny. When I lived in Berkeley, I learned from the great example of labor activist César Chávez, who had organized and unionized farmworkers in the fields of California. As portrayed in The Grapes of Wrath, farmworkers had endured 100 years of wrenching hardship with no union because of the power of the growers. Chávez worked tirelessly with his base through kitchen meetings in countless dwellings in the fields to develop a movement of committed

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individuals who, at great personal risk, held steadfast for the dream of equal rights. Chávez’s struggle may not have succeeded had he not had the capacity to galvanize hundreds of student groups, thousands of churches and synagogues, labor movements, and community groups across the United States and abroad to join him by boycotting non-union grapes. Because of the collective power of a symbolic act – not eating grapes – growers were forced for the first time to negotiate with farm workers. We could help symbolically through this boycott, and when hundreds of thousands of people did so without personal gain, it helped farm workers attain recognition, labor rights, safer working conditions, and benefits. And each of us who boycotted grapes enjoyed the opportunity and found satisfaction in explaining to our children how we can make a difference by what we do and the choices we make in the moment. Rights-based practice invokes this paradigm. We are our brother’s keeper for altruistic reasons but also because it is ultimately in our interests to live in a society that is based on reciprocity, universality, and inclusion. My grandmother, well into her 80s, would often sit on her porch smiling. She had spent the war hiding in a cemetery in Belgium, where she buried her prayer book, published in 1895. I read from it on Yom Kippur. “Why, are you smiling?” I would ask. “Because my neighbors are happy,” she’d reply. “And when they are happy, I can live in peace.” Rights-based practice works to transform relationships to promote the form of coexistence so naturally explained by my grandmother. On a practical level, it means changing the public discourse, making people aware, finding support from people who are not directly affected, understanding power dynamics and utilizing nonviolent conflict strategies – all as part of a process to promote the three interrelated values of universal rights, reciprocity and inclusion. These values are the core of our practice. *** The initial idea I had in the early 1990s was to bring the model of rights-based practice that I had developed in Montréal with Project Genesis in 1975 to Israel with the assistance of the Montréal Jewish Federation-Allied Jewish Community Services (AJCS, later renamed Federation CJA Montreal). I have a deep and long involvement with Israel. I grew up in a home that, for generations, was deeply committed to the establishment of a Jewish state. My parents survived the Holocaust. I studied in Jewish schools and learned to speak Hebrew as well as I learned to speak English – and often spoke with my father in Hebrew – despite neither of us having ever lived in Israel. My father first brought me to visit Israel when I was 10, which established a lifelong connection to the people, the land, and the vision of a Jewish state that affords full rights to all people irrespective of religion or background. I moved to Israel in December 1965 and lived there from ages 20 to 24. My son, Doron, was born in Jerusalem, where I worked for the municipality as a community organizer, working with street gangs and delinquent youth. In Jerusalem, I had the very good fortune of working for and learning from Avner Amiel, considered the father of the most significant social justice movements that arose in Israel between 1965 and 2000. Born in Jerusalem and of Moroccan descent, Avner

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spent the Israeli War of Independence in a British prison at Latrun, where he was strongly influenced by the writings of Gandhi. Avner rose to head the Jerusalem Department of Community Work, where he worked for 40 years. Avner’s ideas about working with young offenders and the communities in which they resided were considered revolutionary at the time – ideas that were at the root of a rights-based perspective. Psychopathology was the popular, secular institutional lens of the day in 1965, while the observant saw lack of religious guidance as the root cause of juvenile delinquency. According to these views, clinical family interventions, cultural “enrichment,” and remedial education were the intervention strategies of the day, which were steeped in cultural paternalism about Mizrachi Jews who, along with the indigenous Palestinian population, represented Israel’s underclass. Avner, however, saw delinquency as an expression of anger against a state that did not provide the Mizrachi poor with equal rights, respect their culture and identity or consult them about their own poverty. In relation to young offenders, Avner affirmed that you cannot ask young people to change if institutions do not change their policies to become more inclusive, responsive and reflective of the minority communities in Israel, especially the Mizrachi or Sephardic Jews who emigrated from Arab lands and who were quickly becoming the majority. Avner, my mentor, became a key actor in this story as a founding board member and even as a field work supervisor for students launching the first rights-based center in Beersheba. Avner passed away in 2020 at age 92. Avner’s work and mentorship shaped my ongoing commitment to rights-based practice. Rather than referring young offenders to therapy, Avner and I began to challenge government institutions to change policies that discriminated against poor kids and poor communities. We began to organize communities themselves about their social rights – these included demonstrations by the elderly against cutbacks to their health care, challenges to schools that did not admit low-income children, to government employment agencies, which relegated most low-income kids to menial jobs with no security – pushing forward the principle that all people share the same rights. We were municipal employees – often in violation of municipal policies such as speaking to the press without authorization. At the same time, Avner had a unique ability to frame issues in terms that touched core values and through which he could develop allies outside of the municipal government who were prepared to join in the struggle. It is this ability – surviving inside the establishment by creating broad support outside of it – in low-income communities, in the press, labor unions, academia, and the like – that explains his effectiveness and longevity. Appealing to core values across diverse constituencies became a fundamental strategy in establishing and developing ICAN within the complex bureaucracy of McGill and to balance diverse stakeholders, which also include the Canadian, Israeli, Jordanian, and Palestinian governments, community leaders, institutions, the Montreal Jewish Community, and funders, in a complex confluence of values brought together by a combination of shared mission, self-interest, and common vision. Avner’s work led to the emergence of the Israeli Black Panther party – a group of young people with delinquent records – whom we got to know through

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outreach to young offenders. The evolution of the Israeli Black Panthers from a street gang to a social and political movement was precipitated by a conflict that arose in the streets of Jerusalem. I had worked with a street gang for several years and in the process cajoled, convinced, (even played basketball for) the ministries of employment and education to create opportunities for young offenders to go to school at night and work in apprentice positions during the day. Some of these young people owed money to the courts for fines for past offences and did not have the resources to pay them. and we had exhausted the patience of the courts to delay the payments. Five young people were now facing prison sentences for nonpayment of debt. Avner and I went to all the social work and professional organizations – including the municipality’s departments of welfare, education, youth, and culture – and received a singular response: “We do not lend money to pay fines and thereby reinforce illegitimate behavior.” Faced with the alternatives, Avner and I went to the press and evoked a broad depth of sympathy from the public and various organizations. Individuals spontaneously donated more than the funds necessary to repay these fines. One contributor, who wished to remain anonymous, was the Jerusalem Mayor Teddy Kollek. On the same day that he sent us an anonymous check for 300 liras to help pay the fines, he sent us a second letter summoning us to a disciplinary hearing for violating our municipal contract by speaking to the press without permission. In a fit of indignation, I wanted to take the mayor’s letter to the press and expose his hypocrisy. Avner said no – and taught me an important lesson that also shapes this story. He told me never to judge people by what they have to do but look carefully at what they do when they do not have to. Mayor Kollek did not have to send a check and show his support, but he did have to summon us to a hearing. Avner was right. The question of whether we should be fired ended up as a vote in the City Council, where we were spared.2 The Israeli Black Panthers emerged from Avner’s tutelage and took up the cause of the Sephardic minority through demonstrations, nonviolent civil disobedience, and political action. Quickly, the Israeli Black Panthers burst on the national scene. They elected members to the Israeli parliament for the next 30 years, mobilized then Prime Minister Golda Meir to create a national commission on youth, and catalyzed the emergence of Sephardic Jewry as political power with a voice of their own. I lived in Israel during the Six-Day War. I have never served in any military, but I experienced sharply the fear, the uncertainty, and the tragic consequences when there are only losers. Night turned into day lit up by mortars and helicopters, and day turned in to night with lights dimmed while we huddled in shelters. There was no national television service in Israel at the time, and it was well before the advent of cell phones or the internet, so the radio was the only source of news. Egyptian radio broadcast that their army was entering Tel Aviv, and everyone I knew felt fear and panic amidst sirens, falling bombs and mortars, and the wails of the injured. It was strongly suggested that I, as a U.S. citizen, evacuate. Instead, I organized street gangs to help evacuate the wounded. There was a euphoric

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feeling throughout Israel and world Jewry after the Six-Day War ended with a decisive victory against all odds. Among some, this sense of euphoria gave way to a sense of messianic destiny. I lived in Israel for two years after the Six-Day War. At first, I was optimistic and hopeful about what the future could be. Among my friends, the Occupation of the Palestinian Territories was viewed as a reluctant and temporary one. I frequented the Old City, where I made lifelong friends and saw everyday transactions between Arabs and Jews. Other things I saw troubled me deeply. A violent riot erupted from the Musrara neighborhood by the poorest of Jews in Jerusalem against the Arab population. I worried that the postwar feelings of euphoria had turned seamlessly among many to arrogance, superiority, and at times even contempt. Avner wrote about this at the time and predicted that a prolonged Occupation would be at the expense of the Israeli poor and other social needs and would turn Israel away from its democratic values. I believed then, as I do today, that the ongoing Occupation has not only caused immeasurable harm to the Palestinian population but also to Israelis. Being an occupier takes a toll and hardens people’s souls and renders them callous, leading to the justification of one’s actions because of the other. Within this context, social values devolve into expressions of postZionism that Israel is just like any other country and therefore should not be held to higher, nobler standards. I left Israel in 1969 to study for my PhD at Berkeley. I cherished these years and grew enormously from the influence of my PhD chairman, Professor Neil Gilbert – and from the open, contested, inclusive environment on and off campus. Berkeley had an enduring impact on how I think, teach, and practice, and I will be eternally grateful for that experience. I planned to return to Israel immediately with new ideas to put into practice. Due to a variety of unforeseen life events, I ended up in Canada at McGill University. I arrived as a long- haired, bright-eyed, bearded, just-turned-28 professor in social work and single father – having driven cross country in a yellow van. I had never thought of becoming a professor, but having become one at a prestigious university, I wanted to put teaching and research into practice with underserved populations. I continue to believe – despite the corporatization of the academic experience – in the integrity embedded in academic freedom as an opportunity to not only teach but to advance practice by reaching out to the most marginal communities. McGill University had a deep commitment to academic freedom, and, as an English university in a French province, a keen interest in contributing to the overall community’s welfare. This characteristic of academic– community partnerships and leveraging the influence of universities to advance social rights has been part and parcel of my academic work over the past 45+ years. I found Montréal to be one of the most vibrant, fragmented, and complex cities I had ever come across. In 1973, the city lived divided – geographically, institutionally, linguistically, and by religion and ethnic affiliation – with a growing multiplicity of immigrant groups, each occupying their own space. The school system was confessional and religious – with English and French Catholic Schools and Protestant schools. Jewish schools were affiliated with the Protestant School

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Board. The location of schools and other important institutions heavily influenced the demography of local neighborhoods – divided broadly by language with several neighborhoods that were mixed. Social services were similarly divided and offered on a confessional and linguistic basis. Quebec in 1973 was changing. The Quiet Revolution of the 1960s, in which the state replaced the authority of the Catholic church and the province’s independence movement became first radicalized then mainstreamed, was impacting on language legislation and school choice in the 1970s. Only children whose parents had studied in English were now permitted to attend English schools, and this was later restricted to only children of parents educated in English in Quebec. The official language of Quebec is French, and its enforcement as the language of work and commerce, combined with the political threat of separation from Canada, troubled many corporations and families enough that they left in large numbers between the independence referendums of 1980 and 1995. During this time, universities expanded, and the government introduced a visionary comprehensive program to ensure access to and participation in an expansive network of government health and social services. The division of the city by language and religion fragmented potential relationships among people from different backgrounds. Children went to different schools, families had different services available to them, and there were few forums that brought the diversity of Montreal residents into reciprocal common interactions. Although very different from Jerusalem and possessing a unique combination of European flavor and North American texture, Montreal was also very much a divided city. I needed to find my place in this complex mosaic and figure out what I could do in terms of practice and where. I had met many of the community organizers, social service providers, academics, and some community leaders to get a better understanding of what the field looked like and what were the major expressions of inequality in Montreal in 1973. I was limited in my options. Having only high-school French – which I had never used – and given the linguistic tension in Montreal, I would have to situate myself in a context where my initial lack of French would not be an insurmountable liability. Second, my commitment to identify possibilities of forging unity of purpose among people of diverse backgrounds would lead me to a community where the population was diverse. Third, to avoid turf concerns, I sought out a community that was not claimed by current grassroots organizing efforts. There had been a decade of welfare rights organizing in the English-speaking community by the Greater Montreal Anti-Poverty Coordinating Committee (GMAPCC). After many years of success, the organization was running out of steam and its base in many neighborhoods diminished. I had to be sensitive to these dynamics and not be perceived as usurping or not supporting community-based organizations – particularly during times of resource scarcity. Lastly, I wanted to identify and reach out to the Jewish poor in Montreal. While the first set of reasons is straightforward, why I chose to focus on the Jewish community and its poor and what I hoped to accomplish warrants some explanation. The Jewish community and its institutions were largely English-speaking

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were a significant factor of life in Montreal, and at the time the largest Jewish population center in Canada. I was familiar with it and its distinctive features. The Jewish community of Montreal has historically been a minority-within-aminority of English speakers. For well over 200 years, it had developed an array of highly respected institutions, synagogues, and schools – but was perceived as insular. At the same time, it often faced acts of overt anti-Semitism. Jewish institutions, while well-regarded for the services they provided to their own constituents, were not perceived or welcomed as being engaged in city-wide issues of social justice and community-building. I felt that engaging the Jewish community to be part of and recognized in these struggles was a goal worth pursuing. The Montreal Jewish community had changed dramatically in the decades after World War II. In 1941, 90 per cent of the approximately 45,000 Jews in Montreal lived within one square mile of each other, with 40 synagogues and more than 40 labor organizations in this neighborhood. The Jewish working class was wellrepresented economically, socially, and politically through their own labor organizations and fraternal groups. The more established Jewish community developed important institutions such as Jewish Family services, the Jewish Public Library, Jewish Immigration Aid Services, and the YMHA – no fewer than 18 constituent organizations formed the Jewish community federation called Allied Jewish Community services in the 1970s –since renamed Federation CJA Montreal. The assumption was that all Jews who needed assistance would find support at these agencies. Professor Harold M. Waller3 published a penetrating study of power dynamics within the Montreal Jewish community. He found the community increasingly centralized and that power and authority were held in the hands of a dozen or so prominent families and executive staff. The community had an outstanding record of fundraising – with some of its nuances humorously described by Mordechai Richler in his novel The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz. The Jewish labor movement that gave voice and identity to the Jewish working class, however, proved to be a one-generation phenomenon. As immigrant parents worked long hours and their children returned from military service entitled to attend universities under the Veterans Charter – Canada’s version of the GI Bill – the Jewish labor movement began to lose its membership. Closely aligned with Soviet ideology, the United Jewish People’s Order – the largest Canadian Jewish member organization at the time – lost 90 per cent of its membership in 1956, the year that Nikita Khrushchev revealed Stalin’s atrocities against Jews. Thousands of Holocaust survivors added to the Montreal Jewish community after 1948 – when Canada finally reopened its gates to Jewish immigration. The 1950s brought significant French-speaking Jewish immigration – primarily from Morocco – who were not well integrated in established Jewish institutional life. By 1971, the Jewish community in Montreal was the largest in Canada and peaked in the 1971 Census at 121,000 members. The political upheaval in Quebec impacted significantly on the Montreal Jewish community, which is now largely bilingual and considerably older than Quebec society and the national Jewish, communal average. Simultaneously, the election of the separatist Parti Quebecois in 1976 accelerated the integration of

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French-speaking Jews in the Jewish communal power structure while at the same time leading to the flight of tens of thousands of Jews to Toronto, other Canadian cities, and New York. The Jewish community was reduced from its peak in 1971 to some 90,000 today. As Jews prospered, they abandoned the old immigrant neighborhoods and moved west. Jews who did not do as well or were not doing well at all stayed in the old neighborhoods or moved to Côte-des- Neiges, which rapidly expanded with relatively inexpensive apartment units and duplexes built after World War II. The Jewish poor became increasingly invisible to the Jewish majority as they no longer had an independent voice and no longer lived in proximity with their more successful compatriots. Social workers staffed the various philanthropies the community established. They became the link between those who had and those who did not. The Jewish poor became doubly invisible – invisible to the Jewish community because they were poor and invisible to the community at large because they were Jews. They lacked an organizational voice within the Jewish community and in the neighborhoods in which they lived. It is abundantly clear to me from my experience that you must be passionate about pursuing justice and coexistence, and this requires integrating heart and mind. One ought not be afraid of being in touch with one’s passions and identifying deeply with people who do not exercise the same rights as oneself. Rather, understanding the sources of one’s passions, directing them, and harnessing them is a tremendous source of authenticity and power. I have lived closely to the sources of my passion with rare exception. The passions that fuel me come from my visceral and spiritual belief that “never again” applies to everyone and that, as a Jew and as a child of Holocaust survivors with a deep and strong identity, I have lived with an understanding of my obligation to promote the rights of all and that this obligation to the principle that all people share the same rights is also the preferred strategy to secure my own community’s welfare. Through this I find meaning, as Victor Frankl wrote,4 in the choices I make in the moment. I found meaning in reaching out to the vulnerable Jewish poor – particularly to Holocaust survivors – as part of a general, non-sectarian organizing effort supported by the Jewish community. In the summer of 1974, I recruited four graduate students. Two were trilingual children of Holocaust survivors, one was the daughter of a New York taxi cab driver, and the fourth was an Australian woman with interests in outreach to the elderly. Within a few months, having looked at several neighborhoods and consulted census data, community leaders, and service providers, we chose Côte-desNeiges as the focus of our efforts. The agenda we developed for the 1975–76 academic year involved five interrelated, ongoing, simultaneous tasks, organizing, research, public relations, administration, and fundraising. The approach was holistic: Find out what’s happening through research and outreach; organize groups of diverse residents; inform the Côte-desNeiges community as well as diverse potentially interested groups and individuals in the city about what we were finding out, what we were doing about it, and how they could help; raise minimal funds; and develop an organizational structure. The following table outlines these tasks in September of 1974.

The evolution of an academic activist

Figure 1.1 Tasks in September of 1974

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It is critical in all forms of entrepreneurship to work holistically. In my experience, talking about good ideas, writing well-intentioned and rigorous proposals, or disseminating important research findings does not very often produce change. Doing something new and imaginative and speaking about it publicly excites people who may become motivated to support it. Making room for new ideas and approaches is to make room in the heart of the community, in the world of policy, as part of the public discourse, and in ways that offer solutions and a pathway to create a different reality. Without action, good ideas get dismissed as unrealistic or grandiose precisely because they haven’t been put to the test. Good ideas do not require a great deal of money to get them going. Social work students in field placements are a great source of enthusiasm and labor. I have always preferred to squeeze whatever initial, minimum funds were necessary from my own pockets than to ask others to contribute to something at the idea stage alone. Central to a holistic approach is developing broad and inclusive pathways within the community you are organizing, within the relevant publics, among service providers and institutions, and among key decision makers. Decision makers are more likely to be receptive when members of their informed public support the initiative, and service providers become receptive when they see results. It all begins with outreach. Outreach gives organizers an opportunity to see the community through its own eyes and to hear from its members the issues that concern their well-being. Outreach underscores that relationships are reciprocal. Reaching out to people conveys respect and real care. You go out of your way to learn and to understand and ask to be invited into their homes. Together, on an equal basis, you identify issues and possible solutions, meet empowered community leaders, facilitate group meetings, assist people in assuming leadership, and create a shared and inspired destiny by joining together. This is the meaning of empowerment. Outreach is a continuous function and process in rights-based practice organizations – and not just an occasional activity used to get started. It keeps the organization current and connected, identifies issues and volunteers, and reaches those who are most isolated and in need of solutions. Outreach is the lifeblood of rights-based practice. In the fall of 1975, the four students and I began outreach in Côte-des-Neiges to identify collective organizing issues that would bring together members of diverse groups to promote change and the deepening of relationships and friendships among people of very different origins who share the same space. We looked for community issues that were rights-based and where local solutions were available such as tenant organizing and securing bus shelters for the notoriously brittle Montréal winters. By the spring of 1976, we prioritized three main concerns. The first one we had not anticipated – the need for social service. The two others were the right to fair and equitable housing and the rights of senior citizens. As Figure 1.1 indicates, no plans were made for how we would deal with individual compelling situations we might come across. There is considerable, longstanding debate among organizers and in organizing literature about how to respond to the often-desperate needs of individuals one meets while door-knocking. The wellfounded argument explains that when one provides individual services, follow-up

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is required; success increases demand for more individual services – leaving little time for organizing around community issues. Alternatively, when people organize without responding to individual needs in a community, they will have trouble securing legitimacy and developing and maintaining a base. A rights-based perspective recognizes the integrity and equal worth of each individual. Consequently, we believed we had to respond to the individual situations we were encountering while door-knocking. At first, a few – and then dozens – of people shared with us terrible situations for which there were solutions, but people either didn’t know their rights or were frustrated by bureaucracy in trying to secure them. In April 1976, I described this situation as follows: Although we had originally planned to involve ourselves in neighborhood concerns rather than individual problems, we felt morally unable to abandon these people in need. We found, for example: a totally isolated senior citizen; a blind woman who did not know that rehabilitation services were available; a man waiting for months for his senile and dangerous wife to enter a hospital; a woman not knowing where to turn when her husband would mistreat her; two women, barely with enough food, unable to work, and too proud to ask for financial assistance; and an immigrant in need of retraining and absorption into a new culture. Over and over again, we found that we were the first group to reach out to people and ask them if they needed help.5 I believed that the best solution would be to work out a relationship with the institutional social service network to refer the people we met to the appropriate organization, which would follow up with a home visit – limiting our role to ensuring follow-up. We had made the rounds of the social and health service network, who all pledged their support. The reality, however, proved otherwise, as we were met with a defensiveness that took us by surprise. Many agencies declared that their services were well- known, and it would be paternalistic for them to contact people who had chosen not to get in touch with them. Some claimed that I was lying in order to make a point that the agencies were not reaching those most in need. As a group of five, we were limited. Each person we assisted needed not only a referral but advocacy and follow-up. We could manage this for the first dozen or so and still focus on identifying organizing issues. But the numbers continued to increase as it spread through word of mouth that there was a group from McGill going door to door that would help them. On the one hand we were gaining credibility and legitimacy by not contributing further to the abandonment of these people and would speak about their issues in public forums. On the other hand, the opportunities to pursue our agenda of building a multiethnic organization became more constrained with each additional case we took on. We were stuck – boxed in by our commitment to ethical rights-based practice – until I discovered a solution in plain sight. It was finding more people like Jasmine Williams. In the course of six months, we had the beginnings of an organization – some 40 people with an age spectrum of 18–85, fluent in dozens of languages, representing a diversity of religions

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and cultures, who became volunteer advocates. We provided workshops, information, and training. The collective issue was not a collection of individual problems experienced by people often unable to advocate for themselves. The collective issue became the right to access services and entitlements and the willingness of neighbors to advocate for each other. Within six months, these 40 individuals in this emerging organization doubled the active case load of the main family service agency in the community. Every macro issue is experienced in our daily life on a micro level, yet the connections between them are not always apparent. C. Wright Mills distinguished between private troubles and public issues6 and emphasized the need to convert the former to the latter in order to create change. In our case, we created a public issue – the right to access – out of many private troubles because we were able to organize in a way that created an effective alternative and involved the people who were experiencing these troubles in their daily lives. In these early stages and with limited resources, we found ways to put our efforts on the map. For example, we encountered hundreds of individuals who were seeking recourse against often unscrupulous landlords. Each encounter was different – from lack of service to lack of repairs to large rent increases. With much fanfare and publicity, we recruited about 20 volunteer lawyers and notaries, advertised a free rental clinic, and were able to assist 400 people in one afternoon with full coverage in the English and French media. Starting the public discourse had to be carefully attenuated. I knew that I could not go outside of the Jewish community to promote change within it. I needed to make use of the structures and forums available within the community. Synagogues, many of which had amalgamated or moved, remained one of the few grassroots forums in which Jews congregated. They were a natural venue in which to convey our message. During the 1975–76 academic year, I spoke at more than 40 events – synagogues, fraternal organizations, study groups, professional groups, and schools – about what we were experiencing in the community. I spoke to the invisibility of the Jewish poor, the lack of awareness of many residents – irrespective of language or religion – about services and rights, and the commonalities they share. I described the magic that happens when people traverse boundaries, discover commonalities, work together, and deepen relationships. Real-life experience is far more compelling than bureaucratic rationales, no matter how well-founded, for why people aren’t getting what they need. Many in the audiences shared the same view about poverty among Jews in Montreal in 1975 that Mark Twain expressed in 1899: The Jew is not a burden on the charities of the State nor of the city. These could cease from their functions without affecting him. When he is well enough, he works. When he is incapacitated, his own people take care of him. And not in a poor and stingy way, but with a fine and large benevolence. A Jewish beggar is not impossible, perhaps such a thing may exist, but there are few men that can say they have seen that spectacle.7

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At one synagogue some congregants opined that my data was wrong and that people were only pretending to be poor. Fortunately, the Rabbi stood up and said, “There are more people in this shul pretending to be rich than there are those pretending to be poor.” I invited Dr. Martin Hochbaum, urban affairs specialist for the American Jewish Congress, to speak at the Spanish and Portuguese Synagogue about his groundbreaking book on poverty among Jews in the United States.8 We were stirring the pot, and an informal discourse began to take place in synagogues, club meetings, and in everyday conversation. We generated an increasingly positive response from the Côte-des-Neiges community. We secured federal student employment grants, enabling us to keep our efforts going. Requests for public speaking and media appearances increased. Even long-time staff of the Jewish federation and its agencies helped us behind the scenes – providing us with vital information about both internal issues and plans to deal with the “threat” we posed. As we pushed forward, we met with increasing resistance and pushback from the institutional leadership and community power brokers in the Jewish community as they perceived what I was saying and what we were doing as an attack, which, to a certain extent, it was. At first, we were ignored. As the conversation intensified, Allied Jewish Community Services (AJCS) sent its staff to speak in synagogues shortly after I had spoken in the same ones, but they were not open to discussing the issue with me publicly. Looking back 40+ years, I cannot attribute the backlash solely to bureaucratic resistance and community insularity within a monolithic power structure. I was an outsider, and outsiders face greater difficulty in establishing themselves in communities – particularly those that are insular. Not having grown up in Montreal, I was even more of an outsider because I was operating from outside the community while trying to effect change in it. My legitimacy came from my position as a professor of social work. I was also an outsider who came from Berkeley, at the time the heart of the counter-culture and free speech movement. Bearded, brash, a single father, a “leftist” – contributed to the resistance as did my tactics, which were considerably outside the community’s experience. In a situation like this, the need for third parties is essential. In the final analysis, the goal is to change the current reality by putting in place a vision in which all – former combatants and former partners – can participate and benefit. Third parties, by being valued by all sides, can identify spheres of ambiguity in which people can begin to converse and begin a process to define a common agenda and seek out acceptable solutions. We established a public committee chaired by the distinguished lawyer and past president of Jewish Family Services – E. Michael Berger. Joining him were rabbis, professors, and community educators. This committee became a buffer for us and a bridge to developing a serious dialogue. In the summer of 1976, I published a 90-page study: “The Poor Among Us: Project Genesis.”9 The research detailed city-wide and neighborhood census data analysis of Jewish poverty. Unlike the U.S. census, the Canadian census asks people to identify their religion and their ethnicity and can make accessible, detailed neighborhood information available at relatively low cost. The data revealed that one in six Jews in Montreal lived below the poverty line. This percentage was

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comparable to the overall population, but its composition was different, with the elderly accounting for a greater percentage of the total Jewish population and a high percentage of the Jewish poor. These numbers exceeded by fivefold the number of low-income Jews receiving services from Jewish communal institutions. While the Jewish community offered income supplements to low-income Jews to assist them in maintaining religious practices such as a kosher diet, the data indicated that were they to extend this service to all the Jewish poor it would exhaust the entire annual budget for all institutions in the Jewish community. Addressing policy issues and legislation, finding common ground with other groups who experience the same issues was the best option to guarantee the well-being of the Jewish poor and all low-income Montrealers. The research was followed with a proposal for action, which called for the funding of Project Genesis, which would have three central objectives: access, community organizing, and participation. Access – by securing a storefront location in the heart of the community where anyone can walk in with any concern and be met by fellow neighborhood residents who are trained volunteers, who would inform them of their rights and entitlements, refer them to the appropriate services, and advocate with them when necessary. Outreach as an ongoing organizational function and storefront advocacy normalizes the concept of rights. Project Genesis situated itself between a beauty salon and a laundromat. The storefront, at street level, renders rights accessible, visible, and located in the center of daily life. Staffing it with trained volunteers from the community is both practical and empowering for the helpers and “customers” who see that others just like them and speaking their language can perform this important function. No one needs an appointment, and all are welcomed by a volunteer receptionist. By not being limited to specific types of concerns (such as housing, mental health, or welfare) but by being able to respond to whatever issues people in the neighborhood struggle with, the organization is open to all issues and all people. It was not unusual to see someone come in requesting assistance and returning the next day to sign up as a volunteer. Storefront advocacy empowers the community by harnessing its self-help capacity and promoting its leadership. The storefront volunteers become knowledgeable about rights, obligations, and entitlements, about how to negotiate the various systems and who to speak to, and through their daily encounters popularize not only the idea of rights but that these rights belong to all. By seeking out volunteers who reflected the multiplicity of languages and cultures in the community, the storefront becomes a mirror of the community itself – representing all, inviting all, and welcoming all. Volunteers undergo extensive training in a rights-based, participatory approach by a limited, dedicated professional staff who provide daily backup and ongoing group training. Staff office space was in the back of the storefront – formerly used as a storeroom for the previous occupant who ran a shoe store – while volunteers, receptionists, advisors, and whoever came in would be met comfortably in the front of the store. The proposal laid out a program for community organizing. A staff organizer would identify issues in the local community that were broadly felt, for which solutions could be found and that would bring together the diversity of Côte-des-Neiges

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to promote common cause. The overall idea was that organizing programs must be owned by the community itself. We would encourage and help develop plans, but ultimately the goal was to create empowered groups of citizens who could act on their own behalf and in the process find commonality and unity of purpose. Two types of activities were proposed. The first was to advocate for change in policy, regulation, or conditions – be it with landlords, rigid institutional policies, or, in later years, to challenge illegal welfare investigations of low-income persons. The other activity sought to create new services that would be “owned” by the community itself. A rights-based approach is rooted in the principle of participation – that people can and should determine their own destiny. Participation is a method of empowering individuals and promoting social cohesion. It is a vehicle to support local activities, and it can be an engine for creating change in the environment. In urban environments and in a more individualistic era in which we are connected and yet fragmented by technology and the internet, destiny is often configured in terms of individual transactions with one’s environment and less so as part of a collectivity. Creating opportunities to establish new relationships or strengthening existing ones through joint action remains an important objective. Project Genesis was designed as a membership organization where anyone who volunteered for three months in a row – be it in the storefront or in a community organizing group – would be eligible for membership. The members met weekly, elected the board, and ratified all board decisions. Through this approach, a person could walk in as a client, become a volunteer, then become a member and stand for election to the board of directors. The Project Genesis proposal called for a minimum of staff in order to ensure that volunteer members would not be an adjunct to staff but would be the driving organizational force. Consequently, the Project Genesis proposal called for only three staff persons: a community organizer, an outreach worker, and an administrator who would also supervise the storefront. A second reason for having a minimum of staff is that it requires less money. The organization can spend more time doing more if it has to raise less. The entire budget for the organization – staff, rent, and activities – was proposed at $57,000 CAD in 1976. In the fall of 1976, we consulted with our volunteers and activists in Côte-desNeiges and then with community institutions. The initial group of students had graduated and moved on. Three new master’s students in social work became the team going forward: Bob Taylor – a former stevedore and lumberjack from the Maritimes; Myra Piasetzki – the daughter of Holocaust survivors whose parents operated a small neighborhood hardware store in Montreal; and Nancy Johnson, the scion of a prosperous Montreal Protestant family. Our membership consisted of 40 people of various backgrounds and across the age spectrum. Members spoke in the language they were comfortable in, and translations would follow. Meetings took a long time, but as a result of this commitment to inclusion, members debated, modified, competed, and became true owners of this evolving organization. We asked each member to envision our organization: What role would each person like to play as we evolved from protest

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to service and advocacy? Staff would then fill in the missing roles. In the process, we did not lose a single member. Consider a few of these remarkable people: Norman Bresco had been a central organizer in the Lady Garment Workers Union and, later, the furrier’s union. Norman became a Trotskyite in the 1920s, and still in the 1970s had a warrant out for his arrest in the United States – issued during the McCarthy era. Norman, then 80, would meet me in the park, with a newspaper held up to his face, and wearing a brimmed hat. He would not only recount amazing stories of his union years but was a fountain of wisdom about how to organize. Susan Garon, a well-polished mother of two young children and married to a Spanish immigrant, became the leader of our tenant’s association and made friends with each and every resident, formed the glue in this remarkably diverse group, and was central in an intense and successful organizing campaign. Vera Jackson, a Black neighborhood civil rights leader who had been active in promoting better local schools, later became the first Black woman from Quebec to run for a major party in a national election. Rose Miller, who became a storefront volunteer for 20 years, and who often said, “I make people feel better, and that makes me happy,” and Fred Wilker, with whom I connected deeply. He was of the same age and from the same city as my father, who was then very ill in New York City. Fred and Eva Wilker worked in a local dry-cleaning store. Flamboyant and energetic with a Viennese zest, their apartment was full of Fred’s paintings. My father passed away in 1977. Fred died playing football at age 75 in 1980. I remained close to Eva for many years. Consultation with community and public agencies over our proposal began in August 1976. Most welcomed it, although some were more directly impacted than others (the less impacted, the less the hesitation to endorse the proposal). The consultations climaxed at a meeting of some 20 agencies chaired by AJCS Executive Vice President Manny Batshaw. Batshaw declared that, it being just before Yom Kippur, it was time to turn a new leaf and implement Project Genesis as proposed. We had never gone to the general media with our work. Now I felt it important to share with the general public that poverty among Jews was not that different than poverty rates in society as a whole and that a new approach was being implemented. George Kantrowitz – the research director of AJCS – and I co-hosted a national press conference, which attracted major media coverage in print, television, and radio. Yom Kippur came and went, and I was getting no response from the AJCS executive office to my repeated queries about moving the process forward to sign an agreement with the newly incorporated Project Genesis. Phone calls were not returned, letters went unanswered, and even the intervention of our public committee was not getting us anywhere. I bought a birthday cake from the Kosher Quality Bakery down the street, gathered up my students, rode up to the 4th floor of AJCS, and began to inquire where Manny Batshaw’s office was as we had a birthday cake for him. Wanting to join

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in, about a dozen staff followed us into Manny Batshaw’s office singing Happy Birthday. He smiled tersely and said it was not his birthday. I feigned surprise and said well it’s a mighty fine cake, why don’t we break cake together? This tactic did not ingratiate me to the decision makers at AJCS and did not advance the cause. I was, however, making a point that became more articulate in the following months. Powerful interests tend to make decisions in backrooms, out of view from those most affected by those decisions, and are ill at ease in public forums that they do not control. When an issue does become public, powerful interests seek to restore control by getting it out of the public eye and submerging it in bureaucratic processes and committees. This is no different than how each of us reacts to a perceived threat. We seek to contain it and, if we can, deal with it privately while avoiding those we perceive to be threats. Shortly after our “birthday” visit, I received a letter with no return address that contained a photocopy of a position statement authored by AJCS executive staff, which outlined how they intended to deal with the Project Genesis proposal. In the first instance, the document outlined how the census research I conducted on Jewish poverty would be useful in their fundraising campaign. Second, the document underscored the potential dangers and loss of control were they to fund an independent Project Genesis and the potential downsides of working across ethnic communities. Lastly, the document dealt with me personally, and characterized me as a radical, leftist outsider over whom they had little influence. In sum, the document revealed that AJCS was not planning to move ahead with funding Project Genesis. I immediately called Manny Batshaw and asked for a meeting. He turned me down, but instead agreed to speak on the phone. I told him that I knew the contents of this document, which surprised him as I had received a copy before the intended recipients on the executive committee received theirs. He asked me if I had his office bugged. Responding with humor, I asked him if he wouldn’t mind watering the plant in the corner of his office less often, because when it is watered, we get headaches on the other end. I noticed on my subsequent visit to his office that the plant was gone. A few days later, Manny Batshaw went for lunch with the president of his board and the chairman of his executive committee. They chose the Brown Derby, which was a landmark Jewish deli in the heart of Côte-des-Neiges, not far from the AJCS head offices. By sheer coincidence, their waitress was a member of a tenants committee in an apartment building we had organized. She took down their orders and made a few notes of their discussion as they were talking about managing the Project Genesis “affair.” She called me. I called Manny a few hours later and advised him to eat less egg salad, as it was high in cholesterol. I mentioned what they had discussed and said to him, “It is too late to deal with us in the backrooms. When you try, I will put it in the front room.” Following this display of, in retrospect, unvarnished, youthful “chutzpah,” key AJCS leaders contacted McGill University where I had not yet attained tenure and complained that I was attacking the community and that I had stolen the memo. The dean responded by asserting academic freedom, saying that if they

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had a legitimate concern about theft then this would be a police matter and not the business of the university. The next day, I was to speak at a Jewish community center about Jewish poverty. Instead, I changed the topic to “How the Jewish community handles dissent” and shared our story and invited the approximately 200 members in the audience to contact AJCS and voice their concern. Marris describes people’s response to change as “characteristically ambivalent . . . because there is a deep-seated impulse in all of us to defend the validity of what we have learned.” Marris argues that “the continuity of past and present must be preserved, and to revise the principles by which we have interpreted the past is a far more arduous and impenetrable task than to make what happens now conform to them.”10 We had gained considerable headway. We had formed an organization, put ourselves on the map, attracted public support, raised issues, but, at the same time, raised the ire of community leaders. In any true sense of the word, we had no real power to ensure that AJCS would make good on the commitment it made publicly at the meeting of agency directors and at the national press conference. We needed to push ahead, and we needed to find a way to resolve this conflict. After all, the goal was to establish Project Genesis and for AJCS to fund it as an independent organization. We could not sue as we had no resources, and it would alienate us from most members of the community. We needed a strategy that would create the conditions wherein AJCS would see more of an interest in negotiating with us than in avoiding us. With the backing of our public committee and Côte-des-Neiges members, we chose a creative tactic. We filed suit in the court of the chief rabbi of Montreal. Rabbinic courts (beit din) have been a traditional mechanism to resolve disputes within the Jewish community for millennia. Submitting to a rabbinic tribunal for arbitration is voluntary, but the outcomes are considered final and binding in secular courts. We interviewed several dozen people whom we had referred to community institutions for support and were prepared to testify, and we were going to contrast their experience with traditional Jewish values regarding the provision of assistance. We also were sending a second message: that the Federation itself must also be accountable and it would be unwise for AJCS to defy the moral authority of the chief Rabbi – particularly at the time of the annual campaign – and risk alienating observant contributors. It was time to explain ourselves to the major federation donors, so we began to do outreach and door-knock at their homes to explain what Project Genesis is, what was promised, and why we chose a Rabbinic court. Most of the persons we door-knocked had no idea of the issue or had heard of it in dismissive terms. Within bureaucratic and institutional structures, people speak about people in the corridors of power but do not often enough speak to them or engage them. Not long after, AJCS offered to establish a committee to review the proposal on its merits. Project Genesis representatives would be full participants on the committee. We negotiated terms and agreed that the 15 committee members would consist of five AJCS representatives, five representatives of Project Genesis, and five representatives mutually agreed upon from the community at large.

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The first meeting was held at AJCS in December of 1976. Oscar Respitz, a distinguished lawyer and past president of Jewish Family Services, was named as committee chair. The meeting was the first ever of its kind where ordinary people from the Côte-des-Neiges community participated in a matter important to their welfare in such a decision-making forum. For the AJCS decision makers, it turned out to be a delightful encounter. Norman Bresco introduced himself and asked Oscar Respitz if his father was a furrier. It was obvious that Oscar cherished his father, smiled, and nodded yes. Norman beamed and said I knew your father. He was a good man. He didn’t want a union; we gave him a union and he came around to agree it was a good thing. The community doesn’t want Project Genesis, we will give you a Project Genesis and you will also come to see it is a good thing. The chair melted. Around the table were academics, lay leaders, agency representatives, and five representatives from the Project Genesis membership. Two women representing AJCS caught my attention: Sheila Finestone, who later became a minister in the federal Liberal government and then a senator and a champion not only of Project Genesis but in securing federal funds to bring the model to the Middle East, and Dorothy Reitman, who became the first woman to be elected to the presidency of Canadian Jewish Congress and was formerly the president of the National Council of Jewish Women, was also appointed to the committee. We could sense their support. It reminded me of the meeting at city council in Jerusalem years before where the mayor had indirectly signaled his support by doing what he did not have to do. It was clear that AJCS was selecting representatives who would be sympathetic. It was time to change tactics and to find a resolution. In the spring of 1977, the committee report recommended funding Project Genesis. The members scoured the neighborhood, located a storefront on a main street, painted it, and finagled donations of furniture from one store and matching lamps from another. With an official congratulatory letter from Prime Minister Pierre Elliott Trudeau, Project Genesis opened its doors in June 1977. Project Genesis members elected their founding board. I agreed to be President on the condition that in ensuing years the group – now an organization – would develop leadership from among its membership. I played a leading role in the organization for the next 20 years. I had hoped to be able to lessen my role at various points, but doing so depended on an intricate balance of staff, funding resources, and relations with AJCS The first 10 years (1977–87) of AJCS funding, however, were fraught with friction and uncertainty. Securing annual funding, submitting to new and changing community priorities, political uncertainty in Quebec, and fluctuating campaign revenues were felt more deeply by Project Genesis because it was not a constituent agency, did not have or want influential donors on its board, and had a small budget, which meant percentage cuts were felt more sharply than in larger agencies.

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These realities were compounded by Project Genesis’ complex identity. It was an organization funded by the Jewish community, designed to assist the Jewish poor, but it did so by reaching out to the community as a whole, by serving the diversity of Côte-des-Neiges residents equally, and by creating local and provincial coalitions to combat discriminatory policies that affected all disadvantaged groups and with a board elected and managed by its volunteer membership. This complex identity and mission did not fit neatly or comfortably into existing preconceptions and general practice. As well, the struggle to establish Project Genesis left a residue of ill feeling among some decision makers and executive staff. During these years, however, Project Genesis proved itself on the ground. The storefront run by 40–60 volunteers who spoke some 80 languages among them with professional staff back-up grew from serving 960 clients a year in 1977 to some 30,000 annually. Project Genesis organized tenants’ associations, the Côtedes-Neiges community council, a community cafeteria serving and run by the homeless and an annual multicultural music festival. In later years, it secured compensation for small safe deposit box holders who were cleaned out in a daring bank robbery on Thanksgiving Day, helped to stop the illegal investigation of welfare recipients, and helped set a precedent by having the city of Montréal recognize community organizations as addresses for homeless people where they could, for the first time, receive welfare checks. By 1987, the lay and professional leadership at AJCS had changed. John Fischel had replaced the venerable Manny Batshaw, and Carl Laxer had come up through the ranks to become the Federation president. To celebrate Project Genesis’s 10th anniversary, we hosted a community event at the Queen Elizabeth Hotel, titled “Toward a Coalition for Social Justice.” It attracted 2,000 people and featured Coretta Scott King, renowned human rights lawyer Irwin Cotler, who much later would become federal minister of justice, and Father Stéphane Valiquette – head of the archdiocese social action committee. The evening began with the Spanish Portuguese Synagogue choir and ended with the renowned jazz ensemble of Charlie Biddle. Project Genesis also bestowed distinguished service awards to a neighborhood rabbi, a Black school principal, and a Francophone policeman. The organizing of this event attracted official and public support from three important women in the community: Sandra Kolber, Twinkle Rudberg, who later founded the organization Leave Out ViolencE, and Barbara Bronfman, who became a close friend, advisor, and supporter of our Middle East program. Their support brought recognition to Project Genesis by the Montréal élite, and, together with the new AJCS leadership, a lasting understanding and integration was realized. Project Genesis is funded to this day by AJCS (since renamed Federation CJA) as a valued and respected community agency. *** I had visited Israel several times during the 1970s and 80s – renewing connections and wishing to contribute somehow to the advancement of social rights and peace in the country. Consequently, I accepted a visiting professorship at the University of Haifa during a semester-long sabbatical in 1987. My roots and connections

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to Israel run very deep. Theodore Herzl lived in my grandfather Isaac’s house in Vienna. Isaac introduced Herzl at the Second Zionist Convention in Basel. I have photographs of my grandfather in Algeria. During the debate over whether Hebrew or Yiddish should be the national language, Isaac traveled there and came back with Algerian Jews who had never heard Yiddish. He politicized the gathering – saying Hebrew is the only language all Jews can understand. His eldest son, Numa, became head of the World Zionist Organization and his son Jacques, who passed away a few years ago at 99, became a well-known leader of the Zionist Organization of America and the World Zionist Organization and was a Jewish advisor to every Republican nominee and president of the United States from Barry Goldwater through George Bush the first. There is a great deal of political and ideological diversity within my family, and although I agreed with my uncle Jacques about very little, I loved him deeply and learned something from him in every conversation we ever had. My parents fled the Holocaust – after my father was interned in Dachau and in Buchenwald and then, following his escape, in a French camp. My mother and my father reconnected in Lisbon and wanted to go to Palestine, but they could not get a visa. The only country that would take them was Cuba, to which they fled and where they lived until their arrival in New York in late 1941. My father’s secondeldest brother had moved to Palestine in the early 1900s. He became a renowned professor of Hebrew and Semitic languages, archeology, and biblical thought and criticism. He was President of the Academy of Hebrew Language, which was responsible for taking a language that was written at the time of the Bible and creating the Modern Hebrew that Herzl viewed as indispensable to the founding of a Jewish state. I learned to speak Hebrew interchangeably with English as a child, went to Hebrew-speaking summer camps, attended a Jewish day school, and worshipped in a small congregation of survivors. Israel, for me, was both an affirmation of faith and the source of post-Holocaust Jewish renewal. It continues to be a source of identity and meaning for me. With Project Genesis secure and my son in college, I took a six-month sabbatical in Israel in January 1987. I lived in Jerusalem, where most of my friends and family were and where my brother, who lives in New York, generously gave me use of his Jerusalem apartment. I reconnected immediately with Avner, who denounced the unity government, which had recently rotated the prime ministership to Likud’s Yitzhak Shamir. Avner had been making the link between the Occupation and its costs within Israel. While budgets for settlements were increasing at galloping rates, funds for services for Israel’s poor were stagnant or diminishing. Increasingly, Avner thought, the erosion of basic rights and freedoms practiced in the Palestinian territories would, by osmosis, creep into the fabric of Israeli society and pollute it with violence and restrictions on basic freedoms. Avner forecast that the growing privatization in Israel would embrace state services – with parallel cutbacks to the poor while disassociating state responsibility from their plight. I walked over to my old office at the Jerusalem department of community work to see if there were still people that I knew and to find out what issues they were

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working on. Sitting at Avner’s desk was Eddie Gedaloff, a native Montrealer with an MSW from the University of Toronto. Like me, Eddie was an avid baseball fan, and he was a first-rate softball pitcher. We had once played basketball in Montréal. We connected immediately. Eddie and Myriam lived in an old, Middle Eastern apartment with their two small children, two dogs, a mynah bird, a tortoise who roamed freely, and some gerbils. Eddie introduced me to his staff, and I gave several seminars about rights-based practice. I learned that the tradition of Avner’s activism had been tempered by the overall political climate. The activism of the 1970s evidenced in the Israeli Black Panthers – and, later, the squatter’s movement – was dormant. Sephardic issues had become part of the mainstream, represented by several political parties and the appointment and promotion of Sephardic Israelis to senior government posts. The Lebanon invasion and its aftermath were often described as “Israel’s Vietnam” and led, among other factors, to the retirement of Prime Minister Menachem Begin from public life. The strong spirit of social justice and collective commitment that I experienced when I had lived there years ago was less visible and accessible. There were, however, significant feminist and peace movements. Public concerns were focused on the integration of new residents – particularly from Ethiopia, and, in large numbers, from the former Soviet Union. There was little focus on issues of poverty or social movements in schools of social work. Community organization, as was the case in North America, was increasingly taught from a functional, service provision perspective. The advent of the New Israel Fund (NIF) and its technical support organization SHATIL marked an important cornerstone for Israeli civil society. Launched by young Jews in San Francisco, its founding director, Jonathan Jacoby, created an organization dedicated to progressive causes in Israel and an alternative to the establishment federations and United Jewish Appeal. By 1987, NIF was raising money for peace, women’s rights, religious pluralism, and multiculturalism organizations and had developed a top-rate organizational wing that provided on-theground consultation and assistance to Israeli civil society organizations. Through my connections with Avner, Eddie, Shatil, and academia, I gave presentations about rights-based community practice and participated in discussion groups in close to 50 forums. These encounters, as well as my graduate students, renewed my connections, and, after six months, my desire to contribute in a significant way was rekindled. Yet, I was deeply troubled. While there were manifestations of coexistence in residential neighborhoods in Haifa and while Israelis frequently traveled to the West Bank – especially on Saturdays – to shop and look for bargains, the Occupation was steadily eroding Palestinian rights, and anger and resentment were increasing. It bothered me that most Israelis were complacent with the status quo. A unity government of the left and right was unable to take bold strides. Worse, the divide between the two peoples was growing. Many Israelis justified their own hostility and disrespect with the popular rationalization that this is what

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Palestinians were used to. I could feel, over the course of my six-month stay, the tension and anger mounting in the Palestinian community. Anger and fear commingled in the Old City of Jerusalem, making each side cautious and suspicious of the other. I left Israel in August 1987. On December 8th, an Israeli truck driver collided with two taxis carrying Palestinian workers returning from Israel. Four Palestinians from the Jabalia refugee camp in the Gaza Strip were killed, and rumors in Gaza whirled that it was deliberate retaliation for the murder of an Israeli businessman in Gaza City two days earlier. The next day, general strikes, riots, and violence engulfed the West Bank and Gaza. Israeli military responded with force, including tear gas and live ammunition. The first Intifada had begun. In 1991, AJCS invited me to participate in an Israel committee. The Mideast story begins here.

Notes 1 ICAN – the International Community Action Network – became the name of the McGill initiative in 2012. From 1997–2012 the name of the organization was the McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building (MMEP). The narrative will sometimes refer to ICAN and sometimes to MMEP. At all times, it refers to the same organization. 2 A full account can be found in James Torczyner, “The Political Context of Social Change: A Case Study of Innovation in Adversity in Jerusalem.” The Journal of Applied Behavioural Sciences, Vol. 5, 1972, pp. 287–318. 3 Harold M. Waller, The Governance of the Jewish Community of Montreal, Jerusalem and Philadelphia: Center for Jewish Community Studies, 1975, with the assistance of Sheldon Schreter. The author took a broader look at the issue in a later book: Daniel J. Elazar and Harold M. Waller, Maintaining Consensus: The Canadian Jewish Polity in the Post War World, Lanham, MD: University Press of America, 1990. 4 Viktor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning, Boston, MA: Beacon Press Books, 1959. 5 Torczyner, Progress Report, April 1976, mimeo. 6 C. Wright Mills, The Power Elite, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1957. 7 Mark Twain, “Concerning the Jews,” The Harpers Monthly, September 1899. 8 Naomi B. Levine and Martin Hochbaum, Poor Jews: An American Awakening, New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, January 1974. 9 Jim Torczyner, The Poor Among Us: Project Genesis, Montreal: McGill University, 1976. 10 Maris Peter, The Conservative Impulse: Loss and Change, Abingdon, UK: Routledge, 1976.

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Dancing between the raindrops The politics of totally locally owned

In 1990, some, 15 years after I took my initial steps in Côtes-des-Neiges, AJCS (Allied Jewish Community Services) asked me to get involved in their partnership program in Israel to test out the feasibility of bringing the Project Genesis model there. The Montreal Jewish community was twinned with the Southern City of Beersheba in a national Israeli program called “Project Renewal” – originally envisioned by Menachem Begin in 1977. Project Renewal joined diaspora Jewish communities around the world with Israeli cities and towns with two major objectives. First, it sought to establish partnerships between diaspora and Israeli communities to improve socio-economic conditions in disadvantaged neighborhoods in Israel. Second, these partnerships were to create living, breathing relationships between Israelis and Jews in the diaspora at a grassroots level and to deepen connections among them. Project Renewal literature emphasized decentralized authority with the funds being administered by local municipalities with requirements to involve the residents themselves who lived in the communities they sought to improve. Organically and through a participatory process, Israeli Project Renewal neighborhoods would prioritize their needs, and the diaspora community would contribute funds and expertise. These funds would be generated through their annual fundraising campaign, then sent to the Jewish Agency and Keren Hayesod – United Israel Appeal – which administered the programs and partnerships and delivered the funds to the municipalities that were responsible at the local level. Project Renewal produced significant and important outcomes, particularly in the construction of new facilities such as libraries, early childhood centers, and technology incubators. The program certainly helped to establish more personal and intimate connections between people in the diaspora and people in local communities in Israel. Diaspora communities organized missions to Israel and spent much time in and with their twinned community and would host delegations from Israel in their own communities. Relationships that otherwise would not have found common soil grew in important ways from the Project Renewal approach. There was also, however, considerable controversy about Project Renewal activities in Israel. A major reason for the discontent was the criticism raised by residents of Project Renewal neighborhoods that they were ‘blocked out’ from meaningful

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Dancing between the raindrops participation in program planning and development by local politicians and bureaucrats. They claimed they were unable to represent their own interests.1

Fred Lazin studied the implementation of project Renewal in six Israeli cities (including Beersheba). He found that all of the mayors in the six municipalities opposed Local Steering Committee elections and with one exception prevented their taking place. Generally, the mayor and/or municipal community workers appointed persons to the Local Steering Committee”.2 The International Committee for the Evaluation of Project Renewal estimated that only 17 percent had been elected. . . . Those chosen first, usually remained, effectively preventing participation by others.3 In addition to mayoral control over the process by which residents were represented in Project Renewal, government ministries and the Jewish Agency “generally supported resident leaders with whom they could work, regardless of whether elected”.4 Residents were ill-equipped to organize to make room for themselves at the decision-making table, to have time to attend the ongoing committee meetings, which were managed by municipal and ministerial staff and took place during working hours, or to have an ongoing mechanism for dialogue. Shelah (1984) found that many citizen representatives felt inadequate.5 Questions about whether they really represented the neighborhood, problems of burnout, high turnover, and a lack of information combine to limit the functionality of neighborhood steering committees.6 Lazin further describes the matrix of political, institutional, and diaspora relationships and interests within which decisions took place and where the influence of diaspora communities and neighborhood residents became marginalized. From the start, many diaspora communities devoted their efforts equally to strengthening the mayor vis a vis the ministries, believing that a weak mayor would jeopardize the entire renewal effort. The Jewish Agency, in turn, tried to prevent, limit, and control direct ties of the overseas communities with residents (and the mayors). Finally, the ministries restricted the overseas community involvement almost exclusively to programs they funded. The mayors cleared the agenda beforehand with the Jewish Agency and ministries and controlled most steering committee meetings where decisions were reached by consensus without voting. Municipal and ministry professionals dominated the subcommittees.7 Consequently, residents were ignored, manipulated, and excluded from having a meaningful say, while diaspora donor communities were appreciated, respected, well-treated, and over-nourished8 but were not privy to the deals and decisions which, by and large, were predetermined by ministerial and municipal interests. Project Renewal, as originally conceptualized, however, imagined a different

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process. At that time, both in Israel and North America, there was enthusiasm for partnerships and citizen participation. Both Menachem Begin in Israel and the Democratic Party in the United States owed much to the urban poor who voted for them in overwhelming numbers, and they wanted to ensure their continued support through new programs. Models of participation, organizational structures, and inclusive partnerships were being tested, and there were significant funds available to support local community organizing efforts – even in cities where relationships between citizens and authorities were contested, confrontational, and contextualized as power struggles. Project Renewal was strongly influenced by the U.S. Model Cities Program, which placed great emphasis on resident participation and inclusion of diverse interests at the decision-making table. A landmark study of 147 model cities’ programs revealed that communities that scored highest on neighborhood cohesion and on political integration achieved the highest scores on all Model Cities outcome measures. In the communities that were the least cohesive, political relationships were characterized by divisiveness, cooptation, and apathy and scored the lowest on these outcome measures.9 The reality of such programs worldwide has had mixed results and presents many challenges. Sustained resident participation comes about when people create a vehicle that they organize themselves and believe in, aspire to, benefit from, and wish to be a real part of the effort to improve community conditions. This requires financial investment and professional expertise. One role of civic organizations is to keep politicians honest. Yet, the politicians and the officials who run the departments and agencies regulate these organizations and/or control their funding. This paradox creates opportunities for both discourse and change as well as for manipulation and the pursuit of self-interest. The tension among politicians, citizen organizations and professionals emerges from valid but competing claims to represent the public interest. Citizens speak to their views about what concerns them and impacts their lives. Professionals bring expertise, experience, and data and are therefore key to any decision-making process. Politicians, being democratically elected, have a public mandate to represent the views of the overall community. Citizen, expert, and politician each have valid claims and stakes. However, not each of these stakeholders is equally equipped. Experts are paid to be at the table. Political and business leaders have paid staff to represent them, but citizens, especially those who contend with the struggles of daily life with difficulty, have little time, opportunity, or resources to engage in civic life. By the mid-1980s, Western democracies were rethinking the role of the welfare state – in response to global economic conditions and to the rapid expansion of government over previous decades. Fiscal conservatism, reducing debt, and balancing budgets became the political mantra of much of Western democratic politics. This neo-conservative ideology most impacted the daily lives of those least protected. To reduce the role and cost of “big” government, the burden of responsibility for the health and welfare of all its citizens was shifted – either privatized or downloaded to municipal levels with reduced funds and more limited access to

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service. With less money carried over through changes in political regimes, services to the most disadvantaged endured the biggest cuts. Victim-blaming became the rationalization for these decisions – with a need “to promote more responsibility” especially among those who relied on public assistance. Israel was no exception to these trends. In the mid-1980s, Israel was in a deep economic crisis. Economic stagnation in the 1970s and annual inflation rates of 450 per cent in the 1980s prompted the government of Shimon Peres to impose the Economic Stabilization Plan in 1985. The plan was aimed at “sharp disinflation.” Some of its main points included: significant cuts in government expenditures, wage controls, temporary price controls, and a sharp devaluation of the shekel. The cutbacks in government expenditures to and privatization of social services had a dramatic impact on both quality of and access to service for the most vulnerable. “In effect, it is a repudiation of almost fifty years of a collectivist ideology of governmental responsibility and a rewriting of the social contract that has bound Israeli society together since before the period of independence.”10 Government downloaded responsibility from the national to the municipal level, to the private market, and to diaspora Jewish communities. Mayors leveraged Project Renewal funds donated by the diaspora to supplement budgets that had been cut by the national government and did so in coordination with various Israeli ministries. Allegations and investigations concerning the misuse of government and diaspora funds, corruption in the awarding of contracts, conflicts of interests, and a lack of transparency and accountability highlighted the inability of the diverse stakeholders to pursue a common mission. Professor Miry Levin-Rozalis, commissioned by the Montreal Federation, evaluated Project Renewal Beersheba in a two-volume study. With regard to citizen involvement, Professor Levin-Rozalis concluded The fact that no further elections (to the Project Renewal Neighborhood Committee) have been held during four years of activities cannot be ignored. . . . The Chairperson also serves as the director of a unit within the Municipality, which raises doubts concerning his ability to serve as a genuine and independent representative of the residents of the neighborhood, and to meaningfully present the residents’ views to the municipal establishment. . . . We cannot help feeling that a process of cooptation has taken place here.11 Levin-Rozalis determined that In the renewal neighborhoods, there has been a reduction in government budgets, and Project Renewal has found itself filling the vacuum left by these cuts. For example, because Project Renewal employs community workers, there has been a cut in government funding for these workers. Thus, instead of the Project enhancing care, it actually serves as an alternative source.12

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Avner Amiel frames his criticism of Project Renewal in terms of rights. That is, the services funded through Project Renewal are the essential responsibility of the Israeli government to its citizens. Rather than citizens organizing within Israel to challenge the government to fulfill its social contract, responsibilities for social welfare are outsourced to Jewish communities abroad who raise charitable funds from their members. Neighborhood activists and leaders are coopted, sent on trips abroad to visit their diaspora partners, while the state keeps them distracted from the real source of the problem and center of responsibility. Avner’s incisive views resonate well with Peter Marris. Marris argues that we manage uncertainty – be it in personal relationships or political ones – by placing the burden of uncertainty on the weakest elements in the system. This is often evident in families, within organizations and in the networks established between them, as well as in the economic consequences of neoconservative retrenchment policies resulting in cutbacks and privatization of services to the least powerful and most in need. Marris argues that managing uncertainty in this way only creates greater uncertainty – resulting in escalating costs to control and maintain this tension of managed uncertainty with widening gaps between those who have and those who do not, social dislocation, and potential civil unrest. Marris eloquently makes the case that the way to manage uncertainty with certainty is reciprocally.13 *** As a member of the Montreal Federation Project Renewal Committee, I participated in several missions in 1990–91 and then extended my stay to contact people on my own and to see things with my own eyes. The missions were designed to inform and show Montrealers what Project Renewal was accomplishing, highlight developments in the city of Beersheba, and point to the challenges ahead. The missions were brief, compact, orchestrated, intense, chaotic, and had an overabundance of food and numerous formal receptions. They included meetings with municipal and Jewish agency officials, lectures by prominent academics, site visits, and social get-togethers. Clearly, those who went on these missions were deeply committed to Israel and to the Project Renewal partnership. With a packed schedule, jetlag, and a great deal of moving around, participants were left exhausted but exhilarated. I was often the only fluent Hebrew-speaker among the visitors – nonetheless, a visceral and visual sense of solidarity strengthened. I needed to experience Beersheba directly to understand better the work that Montreal had invested in, to get a sense of the city as a whole and its neighborhoods, to see the services the municipality offered, and to introduce myself to key players involved in the Montreal-Beersheba Project Renewal Partnership. I wanted to go beyond the Project Renewal system, speak with neighborhood activists, Ben Gurion University, and other people I knew – particularly in Jerusalem – and begin to envision a scenario whereby an autonomous rights-based organization could take root with Montreal Federation funding and within the context of a Project Renewal process tightly controlled by the mayor’s office in a complex inter-institutional environment competing for funds amid economic scarcity.

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To assist, Allied Jewish Community Services wrote me “to provide a preliminary confirmation of the support AJCS will provide to initiate the Project Genesis model in Beersheba. For the period of December 31st, 1991 to December 31st, 1992 we will set aside an amount of $24,000.”14 Funds for Genesis Israel would not come from the Project Renewal budget. *** Beersheba, “The Capital of the Negev,” is the largest city in Southern Israel. The Negev contains 60 per cent of the land within Israel’s pre-1967 borders. David Ben Gurion, Israel’s first prime minister, forecast the cultivation and greening of the desert as the future for Israeli population growth and as a profound alternative to expansionist ideologies. When Ben Gurion retired from political life, he moved to and lived in a modest cabin in Sde Boker – a small desert community located in the Wilderness of Zin – south of Beersheba. Beersheba was born of peaceful compromise. It was founded when Abraham and Abimelech settled their differences and sealed an oath (shevoa) by a well (Be’er).15 Jacob dreamed of a ladder to heaven while near Beersheba,16 and the prophet Elijah found sanctuary there when fleeing Jezebel, who sought to have him killed.17 The Ottoman Turks established a permanent settlement in the early 20th century, and the “Capital of the Negev” term emerged then due to Beersheba’s importance as the focal point of Bedouin trade. The British replaced the Ottomans at the close of World War I, established a regional headquarters there, and built an important railroad terminal that connects to Rafah in the Southeast Sinai desert. The 1922 census of Palestine set the population of Beersheba at 2,356, with more than 90 per cent being Muslim (2,012), 235 Christians, 98 Jews and 11 Druze. By the time of the 1931 census, the Beersheba population had increased by approximately 25 per cent to 2,959. Following the 1948 War, Beersheba was settled by thousands of Jewish immigrants from surrounding Arab countries. By 1956, the Beersheba population had increased by 700 per cent over 25 years with 22,000 residents. Soroka Hospital opened in 1960. By 1968, the population of Beersheba had grown to 80,000. The University of the Negev, which would later become Ben-Gurion University of the Negev, was established in 1969. Beersheba has had a longstanding reputation as a city about to take off. By the early 90s, it had not. “Poor political leadership, political infighting and inadequate financial planning kept the Municipality in deficit until it first achieved a balanced budget in 2006.”18 The Beersheba population was 114,619 in 1987. Its population was older, less educated, had lower incomes, and was less likely to own their homes than Israelis nationally.19 It had numerous neighborhoods with many empty buildings unable to find buyers for their apartments. These neighborhoods were principally populated by immigrants and their offspring from Morocco and Iraq and, to a lesser extent, immigrants from Cochin India, historic home of the oldest group of Jews in India. They lived in underserviced and underemployed communities.

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Russian and Ethiopian Jewish immigration was ramping up in 1990. Over the next decade, some 70,000 Russian-speaking Jews from the former Soviet Republics and thousands of Ethiopian Jews settled in Beersheba. Neither these immigrants nor those who arrived after 1948 came with much. More often than not, they arrived as penniless refugees and were supported by the state. Taken together, in the absence of significant economic opportunities, the rates of poverty were significantly higher than the national average. Notwithstanding, there are very wealthy areas in and around Beersheba. Omer, a suburb to the east, had the highest per capita income of any town in Israel. These Green neighborhoods contrasted with the abandoned and neglected public parks in low-income neighborhoods. Awareness of the social, economic, and environmental difficulties associated with the city emerged in the 1960s. Daily life in the desert city was challenging. The generous greenbelts .  .  . initially designed as parks, were hard to maintain in the semi-arid environment, and thus soon turned into neglected spaces dominated by yellow desert. Gradus (1978) and Shadar and Oxman (2003b) identify these arid parks as creating a sense of alienation among residents. Since most people did not own private cars, reaching the new administrative center was difficult, and the area remained deserted for years after its construction. Beersheba had few facilities. The Desert Inn was the only functioning hotel with reasonable capacity. At the time, it was undergoing renovations with funds from the Ministry of Absorption to convert hotel rooms to temporary housing for immigrant families. Beersheba lacked the infrastructure to absorb so many people who spoke no Hebrew and were unfamiliar with the functioning of Israeli society. Lacking language and, therefore, employment, they were housed temporarily in hotels, hostels, schools, caravans of trailers, or inexpensive apartments in low-income neighborhoods. The immigrants themselves faced the challenge of integration, and Israeli society faced the collective challenge of absorbing a 25 per cent increase in its overall population in less than a decade. According to some studies, Beersheba, although resource-poor and not designated as an absorption site, added 45 per cent to its total population as Russian immigrants found cheap housing and a burgeoning community that provided kinship, friendship, and support. One unanticipated outcome has been that the city of Beersheba has the highest per capita percentage of chess grandmasters of all cities in the world.20 As I walked the Project Renewal Daled21 neighborhood in the stifling summer heat, the thick, enveloping fatigue I felt from the people I met blended almost indistinguishably with the slow, steady, pulverizing beat of the desert’s midday sun. Buildings were poorly maintained and large cracks ran down the sides of many of them, balconies and entranceways were in disrepair, electrical wires hung down the back of apartments, gas containers for home cooking located in the stairwell area were not caged and locked, the parks were in disrepair, water fountains did not function, the grass had turned brown, and there was litter everywhere. In the

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neighborhood’s central square, many shops were permanently shuttered. A fruit and vegetable store, a bakery, a hardware store, and a couple of cafes were the main shops that were open. None of these premises were air-conditioned. Instead, they utilized a fascinating system that I had never seen before. Called the desert cooler, it runs a pipe from the cold-water faucet up to the attic where it drips on a pile of straw. Underneath the straw, there is a revolving fan that circulates the cooler air. This pre-air-conditioning system worked and was to service our first storefront in this main square for many years. Avni described the housing situation: Beersheba became home to the country’s biggest temporary housing site, comprised of over 2000 units. Notwithstanding critiques of the housing as low-quality and hastily-built, the decision to host the newcomers proved to be an efficient way to reinvigorate the city. The influx of residents and the construction of public housing marked the end of the real-estate stagnation of the 1980s; the temporary housing sites became permanent neighborhoods.22 The surplus endured; units remained vacant throughout the 1990s (Central Bureau of Statistics, 1995), at which time some were purchased by the government and converted into public housing. The gaps between the inner old neighborhoods and the newer developments widened (Meron & Alfasi, 2008). A handful of primarily older women and men sat in the shade on foot stools or cross-legged on the ground trying to sell what they could, which ranged from sewing material to plastic household items, handmade clothes, Russian dolls, ribbons, and the like, conversing in Russian, Amharic, Arabic, or Hebrew and combinations of the previous. Not many people sat in the square. Benches were broken, bricks were missing, and the area was not shaded. Except in the early morning, there was little foot traffic. Several miles away, the Montreal developer David Azrieli opened an airconditioned mall in Beersheba in 1989 that was destined to become a prototype that would transform the country. It drew people, especially younger people, away from the neighborhoods where air conditioning was a luxury. Old Beersheba, which used to be the central business and government administration area, was in freefall decline. Beersheba residents and people from surrounding towns, however, flocked to “The Canyon” (as the mall is called). On three floors, it houses movie theatres, all kinds of shops, fast food restaurants, ice cream parlors, and a large supermarket – all air conditioned with free parking and across from the Central Bus Station. It soon dominated commerce in Beersheba. The mayor of Beersheba, elected in the same year as the mall opened, was a major investor in this project. The people I met in the Daled neighborhood were recent immigrants, the elderly, housebound single parents, and the disabled – the kind of people you will find in any city concentrated in particular neighborhoods – relying solely on public transportation. Often unable to read Hebrew or negotiate the city, they had

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difficulty communicating with their Israeli-born neighbors and remained in their “Fourth Square.” For the most part, they lived in decaying, unsafe apartments in rapidly and poorly constructed housing projects, which surrounded the Square and which were often owned and neglected by government corporations, Since 2005, however, Beersheba has become one of the fastest-growing cities in Israel. By 2020, its population almost doubled to 186,600. About 20,000 Arabs live within the city limits of Beersheba today, and they represent about 10 per cent of the population. Following Operation Yoav in October 1948 when Israeli forces displaced the Egyptian army and took control of Beersheba and some 20 nearby Arab villages, the Israeli government set up a 10-km security radius around Beersheba, which was off limits to the Bedouin population. While the city of Beersheba developed principally as a Jewish city, the Beersheba Metropolitan Area includes more than a quarter of a million Arabs. Bedouin villages include those recognized by the state, unrecognized villages that lack basic services and live under threat of demolition despite their historic claims to the land, and the Bedouin city of Rahat. Bedouins have the highest levels of economic disparity in Israel. They are the poorest and least educated and often depend on government services for their survival. All-important services – hospitals, welfare offices, courts, and government offices – are in the urban center of Beersheba. Bedouins must travel significant distances to reach them, which is particularly difficult for Bedouin women, and there are often insurmountable barriers to accessing services. For instance, a Bedouin woman waited patiently for months to obtain an appointment at the welfare office. All such appointments are made by mail. However, Sabach lives in an unrecognized village. Since the government does not recognize the village, there is no mail delivery, mailboxes, or even an address. When the appointment letter was returned to sender at the welfare office, her appointment was cancelled. *** I made four trips to Israel in 1992 and logged close to five months on the ground in Beersheba. I found a keen interest among academics, activists, journalists, and professionals in the concepts behind rights-based practice and the values that underpin it. I realized that I was engaged in more than introducing an adaptation of a Montreal model to a neighborhood in Israel – but a set of ideas and language premised on the values of universal rights, reciprocity, and inclusion. And, while these ideas were being adapted from a Canadian model, this Canadian model itself was firmly rooted in the influence on me and countless others of Avner Amiel’s work in Jerusalem in the 1960s and 1970s. It was of vital importance to engage Israeli academic institutions to provide leadership and support through teaching, research, and student internships, making room for the ideology and methodology of rights-based practice in social work curricula. Engaging academic institutions in these partnerships creates reciprocity between them and the communities with least access, enriches both, and provides critical public legitimacy to the introduction of a new model.

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Given the geography and population of Israel, issues that people experience locally emanate directly from national policy. We would focus on issues that manifest locally but require policy change at the national level. With this focus, we hoped to avoid conflicts with municipalities as it was self-evident in Beersheba that – especially given the Montreal-Beersheba relationships – such conflicts need to be avoided. To be a national organization, Genesis Israel required a national presence. Setting up an additional base in Jerusalem was the obvious choice. Jerusalem is the center of policy making in Israel and where the Knesset and government ministries are located. There were important resources in Jerusalem that were unavailable in Beersheba, such as Shatil, the technical development branch of the New Israel Fund, which had established itself as the premier resource for social change organizations in Israel. Avner and the people he influenced were based in Jerusalem, and the Community Work Department of the Jerusalem Municipality, which Avner had led for four decades, wanted to assist not only in Jerusalem but in Beersheba as well. Jerusalem is home to Israel’s oldest and most prestigious university, the Hebrew University, which houses the Paul Baerwald School of Social Work23 and a Faculty of Law with a strong human rights orientation. As well, Jerusalem was both a united and divided city. East and West Jerusalem became one under Israeli authority after the 1967 war. Arabs and Jews live, by and large, in separate neighborhoods – Jews in West Jerusalem and Arabs in East Jerusalem. Locating in Jerusalem would hopefully give us access to both. Funding would be required for each city. I have never believed in waiting for the funding to be in place to make things happen. Rather, I generate funding as we need it and as we made things happen. My pitch to funders is based on what is being done – rather than on what one would do if an abundance of resources were available. I would follow the path I took in the establishment of Project Genesis. Begin with students, conceptualize beginning approaches to communities as research, limit actual expenditures to a minimum, build wide support, and attract public interest. While Montreal was providing initial funds for Beersheba, it was unclear how long such support would continue. A center in Jerusalem would require independent funding from sources other than the Montreal community. The broad strokes of the evolving concept were the establishment of two academically linked, community-based, volunteer-driven and professionally managed rights-based centers that would work in cooperation with municipal social work departments to address local issues that emanate from national policy and to empower residents to access rights, change policy, and participate in decisions that affect their lives. With a nationally incorporated board, these organizations would grow and find financial resources to sustain their work. I needed supporters and partners in Israel and abroad. There was work to do, and it was time to get started.24 *** I had a few weeks between semesters at McGill in December 1991, and I joined a Montreal Federation Project Renewal Mission and tacked on extra time afterwards.

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There is a popular expression in Israel – and more so in the arid climate of Beersheba – “lirkod bein Hatipot,” “To Dance between the Raindrops.” Amnon Shinar, Executive Director of the UIA Canada office in Jerusalem, was responsible for overall coordination between Canadian Jewish communities and their Project Renewal partner cities in Israel. Thoughtful, cautious, with a PhD in urban planning from Oxford, Amnon supported the Genesis Beersheba concept but advised me “not to proceed too quickly and to avoid political entanglements.” Amnon underscored the importance of getting support from the director of Project Renewal in Beersheba – Eli Elalouf – from Deputy Mayor Rafi Shitrit and from Avishag Avtubi head of the Strategic Planning and Information Unit for the Municipality of Beersheba. I met with Eli Elalouf, who was a rising star. In 1989, he was elected to the Beersheba city council and served until 1992. Eli supported both my proposal and approach, but Eli was destined for bigger things. He would become the director general of the Rashi Foundation and, in 2013, he was appointed to head the Parliamentary Elalouf Committee to Fight Poverty. A year later, he joined the new Kulanu party and was elected to the Knesset. I would meet him again many years later in his capacity as the chair of the Anti-poverty committee when I proposed to him creating a network of academic-–community teaching centers throughout the country. Rafi Shitrit launched his political career through his involvement and control over the Project Renewal Local Steering Committee in a neighborhood of Beersheba. Rafi strengthened his political base as he advanced his career and became the director of Project Renewal. Until his election as Beersheba deputy-mayor in 1983, he was a powerful voice for resident participation. Once elected, he changed and was increasingly regarded as a city power broker whose concerns about control had to be reckoned with. Fred Lazin described him as follows: Rafi continued to control the local steering committee when he became its social director and later the Agency’s director for renewal in the city. Until his election as Deputy Mayor in 1983, community activists believed that he continued to serve the community’s interests. As Deputy-Mayor, however, he no longer favored a role for residents in implementation.25 Avishag Avtuvi, professional, competent, and well-organized, headed the strategic planning unit and would later become the CEO for the Municipality. Avishag would become engaged once she received a green light to do so from Rafi and from the mayor. As a member of the Montreal Project Renewal Committee, I participated in their scheduled events and stayed at the Desert Inn. Quite a spectacle at the breakfast buffet. There was mayor “Ijo” Rager, rotund and more than six feet in height, standing on the breakfast line with his guest, the actor, Rick Moranis at 5’6”, appearing more diminutive than on the screen. I introduced myself to the mayor and sent him regards from my uncle Jacques with whom Ijo had worked at Israel Bonds. Ijo occupies a lot of space, and, here, on the buffet line, was

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center stage. In his first term, Rager was entertaining and he knew how to work a crowd –especially this one, which was by-and-large English speaking. *** My raison d’être is to advance the Genesis Israel program with financial support from the Montreal Jewish community. On the other hand, I am a member of the Montreal Project Renewal Committee, which funds the Beersheba activities and has a variety of interests – its most significant initiative being to fund and build a state-of-the-art early childhood center in the Daled neighborhood. Fortunately, my colleague, Professor Ben Zion (Bunny) Dalfen, specialized in this field. I could and would defer to him. I join my Montreal delegates who are eager to move forward and want to play an active role in the programs they fund and speak fondly of the relationships each have established in Beersheba. They are also frustrated with the Municipality, its follow-through, adherence to time lines, and the questions raised in the evaluation they funded. I attended meetings about the early childhood center with the head of the professional committee, the executive director, and her senior staff. They spoke about the lack of coordination, the difficulties in getting community participation, while the head of the professional committee – a pediatrician and an MPH – “describes problems in the center as a result of poorly thought out implementation in relation to the politics of Israeli planning.” At another meeting, Bunny and I met with the director of the early childhood center and the director of Project Renewal. Bunny had developed a lot of material and put in considerable time and effort, but the Project Renewal director was reluctant to discuss issues contained in it without having prior consultation with the Project Renewal steering committee. They just didn’t seem ready to have an open talk. Everyone was careful about what they thought they could say to whom and fearful of consequences of a misstep. Something didn’t feel right. I met with a few of the community workers in the Daled neighborhood to get a sense of what their work was like and to introduce them to the ideas of the Genesis program. I learned that one of the big issues is that rent has gone up from an average of 60 NIS per month to 240 NIS. I was told that this was a direct result of the government Public housing Corporation (Amidar), which raised rents in response to governmental rental grants from the Ministry of Absorption to new immigrants. These rent increases, however, fell equally and, clearly unfairly, on all tenants – including longstanding residents who were not eligible for immigration grants. This was a clear example of local concerns emanating from national policy that not only cause economic difficulty for local residents but sow divisions among them as well. Unsolicited, the community workers told me that there was a lot of unease about the Early Childhood Center, who was controlling it, and who was benefitting from it – and that residents were not being included. I knew that at this time I could not speak to local issues that did not emanate from national policy, and I especially could not speak for the Montreal federation, which had a committee of

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dedicated people working on it and a Montreal office attentive to it. I would relay information, but I was learning from different encounters “to dance between the raindrops.” During a dinner with Deputy Mayor Rafi Shitrit and Avishag Avtubi, it became clear that the early childhood center had become politicized and was the only subject they were interested in – asking about internal staff conflicts and who I’d spoken with. I wonder if both Avishag and Rafi from the municipality and others from UIA Canada are worried that I may be coming to know too much – unwrapping and deconstructing the public package presented and potentially upsetting the space created for their own dance between the raindrops. Nonetheless, Rafi gave his blessing to the Genesis project “and for the follow up to take place with the proper professionals. (Field notes p. 2) *** December 25 . . . Christmas Day . . . a working day in Israel, and I have meetings at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev. Established in 1969, it is the place where Prime Minister Begin greeted President Sadat at his first stop on his historic visit to Israel. The faculty, students, and atmosphere at BGU I met were exciting, innovative, open to new ideas, and connected, if not central, to Beersheba community life. BGU has a second, smaller campus about an hour away in Sde Boker that specializes in desert research and a station in Eilat engaged in marine biology. Its medical school is pioneering, innovative, and internationally respected. The University is highly ranked, and it undertakes significant programs with the Bedouin population. Ben Gurion University was certainly on the move in 1991. New faculties, massive construction, and expansion was taking place. While modern administrative headquarters were being constructed on the main campus, at that time, I was very fond of the President’s temporary office, which was located about a mile away in what was formerly a hostel to house new immigrants. Cramped, delightfully unpresidential, featuring a sliding wooden panel through which the president would occasionally bark orders to his administrative assistant in the office next door. My meeting with the president of BGU, Professor Avishay Braverman; Rector Prof. Dov Bahat; and Vice President External Ami Gluska was exceptional. Meeting with such high-level people at this early stage and the conversation that ensued showed me clearly the university’s openness to partnerships and innovation and their eagerness to support the Genesis proposal. I found Avishay’s intense energy, vision, and determination electric. With a PhD in Economics from Stanford, he held senior positions at the World Bank in Washington for 14 years and focused on economic development premised on social justice values. He understood my language and purpose. Avishay suggested “the need for an advisory board emanating from the university.”

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Braverman had only recently been elected President of Ben Gurion University (1990), and he applied a singular devotion to building the university. He was to lead the institution for the next 16 years, and during his tenure “the nearly insolvent university that he found upon arrival was transformed into a fiscallysound institution that has more than tripled in size as it transformed into an internationally-recognized research institute.”26 Braverman was elected to the Knesset as a member of the labor party in 2006 and served until 2015 and, for two years, as Minister of Minority Affairs. I later met with the acting director of the school of social work – Shraga Sharok Professor Julie Cwiekel – and Rachel Levy, who held a position as a field instructor in the school of social work while directing social work for the Municipality. They were enthusiastic about the project and about establishing academic relationships with McGill through exchanges, support, and assistance in developing their MSW program and especially to develop the “Genesis project” as a teaching, research, and field work center for students. They stressed the “importance of university auspices and public advisory support.” Rachel Levy underscored that the program not be politicized. *** Most instructive was the day I spent with Avner Amiel. Avner passed away at age 92 while I was finishing this book. Avner was one of the rare individuals one is fortunate enough to befriend in the course of a lifetime who functions on a creatively unique level and weaves connections among people and ideas in ways one had not imagined before. Avner had just completed a draft of his paper, Community Organizing in the Year 2000.27 He described institutional patterns that were tearing at the social fabric of Israeli low-income communities. The first, Avner wrote, is the “budgetary flight” of the state from responsibility for social services brought about through privatization and “diasporization” of state responsibility for the social welfare of all its citizens. The second was the abandonment of integrated, holistic, community services available on a geographic basis. While at one time neighborhood services were the hallmark of early Israel with its accompanying difficulties in coordination, they were replaced by vertically organized, specialized services, centrally located, and functionally specific to particular population groups. The centralization and specialization of services for the elderly or the disabled, for example, removed them from their community both physically for service and emotionally from their family and community support. With his signature enthusiasm, Avner said he liked the model and was impressed with what he had heard about Project Genesis. I told him that whatever success I had had was due to him. Avner’s response: “I’m in. A community, rights-based model is necessary, and promises an organizational vehicle through which residents and consumers of services can represent themselves.” We talked about the obstacles; he connected me with an array of people, including Yamin Suissa – who led the Squatters movement in Israel and wanted

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the Genesis model in his neighborhood of Katamon in Jerusalem – and Professor Alice Shalvi,28 a recipient of the Israel Prize, a professor of English literature at the Hebrew University, and renowned for her role in progressive Jewish education for girls and advancing the status of women. They become important players in the establishment phase in Jerusalem and nationally. I met with Shatil Director Sari Revkin, her deputy and main organizer Carlos Stiglitz, as well as faculty in social work and law at the Hebrew University. Before returning to Canada, I had a letter of support from Avrum Levi, director of the municipal department of “Youth, Sport and Society” (responsible for community work in the city). Both Avrum and Sari wrote Shira Hertzog at the Kahanoff Foundation in Calgary seeking financial support to develop the program. *** Back in Montreal to teach second semester classes, I incorporated Genesis Israel activity into my work at McGill. Around the same time, and with Project Genesis being stable and secure, I was evolving a related but different set of interests. I established the McGill Consortium for Human Rights Advocacy Training (MCHRAT) to bring together interdisciplinary expertise to assist those population groups who have least access to it. We would develop programs locally, nationally, and internationally that would create academic partnerships among universities and with community groups. I recruited an advisory board of community organizers, academics in social work and law, judges, and lawyers. MCHRAT was co-chaired by the McGill Chancellor and well-known political columnist the late Gretta Chambers and the former Quebec Minister of Justice, law Professor, and Superior Court Judge, the late Herbert Marx. It was no accident that Gretta Chambers championed these efforts. I was very fortunate to have effective support from McGill’s senior administration – without which I would have been unable to accomplish what I have done in relating academic work to the daily lives of the least advantaged. Gretta had chaired the 10th anniversary of Project Genesis “Toward A Coalition for Social Justice” featuring Coretta Scott King in 1986. A year later, she championed our campaign to recognize community organizations and religious institutions as addresses for the homeless so they could collect welfare benefits. The Principal (President) of McGill, David Johnston, a former law school dean and destined to become Canada’s 28th Governor General, delivered the keynote address at MCHRAT’s inaugural conference, Justice & Human Rights Advocacy: An Emerging Coalition Between Law and Social Work (1992). With several years of accomplishments and under the leadership of Chancellor Gretta Chambers and Justice Herbert Marx, the Quebec Ministry of Higher Education awarded MCHRAT close to $500,000 to set up and run the infrastructure for an “inter-university center” in 1994. As part of MCHRAT and funded by the Montreal federation, Genesis Israel would become the initial international, interdisciplinary program involving faculty at six academic institutions and from a range of academic disciplines. McGill graduate faculty provided seed funding to MCHRAT to develop Genesis Israel as

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a McGill teaching center. With receipt of the Quebec Ministry of Higher Education infrastructure grant, I was able to hire a senior colleague Nicky Aumond who had held high-level positions at Centraide (United Way) for 14 years, followed by an appointment as Director of Development at the YMCA of Montreal. I first met Nicky in 1982 when she completed her bachelor’s in social work while maintaining these senior organizational responsibilities. Nicky brought an organizational intelligence to this work and would be central to all our efforts over the next decade. With a core staff, we could manage local and national projects as well as grow the Genesis Israel idea by working with local partners, by promoting its visibility in Canada and the United States, by writing grant proposals, and by being the glue between these activities and our evolving partnerships in Beersheba and Jerusalem. The McGill University Advancement Office and Deputy Director Tom Thompson encouraged us, helped us set up, and provided staff for MCHRAT to develop a donor base. These and many other McGill supportive actions represent a remarkable tribute to a world-class university whose administration was accessible and that supported faculty members like me to advance applied research that has an impact on the most marginal. This level of support would continue unabated for more than a decade. MCHRAT established” Canadian friends of Genesis Israel” chaired by Justice Herb Marx. Montreal-based and including prominent members of Montreal’s Jewish community, Canadian Friends served as an interface with the Montreal Federation and tasked Dany Pollack to assist in fundraising efforts. The MCHRAT office kept Genesis Israel present in Montreal through events, newsletters, and the media. In February 1992, Maxyne Finkelstein, (AJCS Executive Director Israel Affairs) and Robert Berger, Chair Project Renewal committee met with Deputy Mayor Rafi Shitrit while in Beersheba. Genesis Beersheba was among the many items they discussed. Rafi reiterated his concerns regarding potential advisory board members and their role, the nature of the project, its relation to the university, budgetary sources, and time frame. I addressed these issues in a letter to Rafi, which provided an opportunity to summarize the Genesis Israel objectives: 1 To develop the voluntary capacity of new immigrants and long-standing residents to access their entitlements, to find solutions to common problems, and to participate in decision making bodies which affect their lives. 2 To provide information and expertise about rights and entitlements. 3 To conduct outreach to recruit volunteers, identify issues and understand the community from the perspectives of its residents. 4 To provide hands-on training in techniques of social and legal advocacy and community organization. 5 To promote the participation of neighborhood residents on both operational and policy levels. 6 To research and litigate precedential cases which defend and promote the rights of disadvantaged persons.

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7 To link outstanding resources in the fields of law and social work to assist in these efforts. 8 To provide training to law and social work students in developing, administering and providing leadership to programs of this nature. 9 To research social problems that impact on these populations through interdisciplinary legal and social science inquiry. 10 To promote academic and professional exchanges among affiliated persons, organizations and universities. I wrote that in additional to his support and that of the municipality, the proposal also seeks to enlist the active support of Ben Gurion University and its School of Social Work, public figures who live or work in Beersheba, nationally respected public figures who are not connected to Beersheba, and representatives of the Montreal Jewish community. The University and its school of social work are an important Beersheba resource . . . the school of social work places students in field work who are the future professional social workers who will work in your city. The university provides legitimacy and stature, can research and evaluate aspects of this project and be a vehicle for exchanges among students and scholars which can only be of benefit to the project and to Beersheba as a whole. I added that the purpose of including persons of stature who are not presently linked to these activities is that they bring expertise, impartiality, and prestige, which can be particularly useful in advocating for national policy change. I proposed that in the coming year, ( June 1992–May 1993) we can accomplish many important “pre-organizing” tasks including formation of a public advisory committee; selection of a neighborhood site; examination of neighborhood perceptions regarding social problems, accessing entitlements, and neighborhood organization; in depth examination of neighborhood issues; and recruitment of neighborhood leadership and voluntary support which I believe that would take us through the spring of 1993. I added that I would be in Israel for the academic year 1993–94 and would actively participate in the project’s implementation. By early 1994, the project should be fully operational. I reassured Rafi that money for this project was not coming out of the Renewal budget and that the project shall not involve itself in partisan politics of any kind. Rather, it aims to develop the voluntary potential of a community to address its needs through community development. The project cannot and will not seek confrontation with the municipal authorities. It is very important that the municipality,

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Dancing between the raindrops Montreal and the project are close working partners both to avoid discord with the municipality as well as to have an impact on national policy.29

Israel: June–July 199230 With the legacy of Avner’s influence on community organizing, Jerusalem municipal community workers were in tune with the idea of rights-based practice. The backing of key Jerusalem opinion makers in the media and on Israel’s national stage and the presence of progressive social change organization headquartered in Jerusalem such as The New Israel Fund and Shatil combined with Municipal support to move us forward decisively. Avrum Levi suggested that we focus on tensions among Jerusalemites – such as new immigrants versus longstanding residents, Arabs and Jews, religious and secular, Ashkenazi and Sephardi, and around women’s rights. I meet with Louis Goldberg – who directs the municipal community work department and his staff – and they enthusiastically supported initiating Genesis Jerusalem in the Katamon neighborhood, the stomping grounds where the veteran social movement leader – Yamin Suissa – made his mark. I met with Avner, Yamin and community worker Elana Berkowitz in the neighborhood, walked it, and checked it out. Located in Southwest Jerusalem, Katamon has about 12,000 residents, mainly longtime Sephardic poor with a substantial recent Russian population. It borders on Gilo, a major Jerusalem center for Russian immigrants with about 30,000 residents. It also borders on Beit Tzefafa, an Israeli Arab village with a population of about 8,000.31 This area seems to me to be ideal for Genesis in Jerusalem. It contains the three populations with whom I am interested in identifying common issues and organizing together. There is leadership and good professional organizing staff. Following a neighborhood visit, Avrum and Louis agreed to identify community work staff to be assigned to Genesis Jerusalem, recommend members for the advisory committee, and develop an operational plan for the coming year. In addition to organizers, we needed legal expertise. I meet Michael Atlan. He was 35, from France, and taught at the Hebrew University law school. He was studying for a joint PhD in law and sociology. He spent several years doing legal counseling in low-income neighborhoods, coordinated an education program for prisoners, chaired the managing board of the Adam Institute of Democracy and Peace, and worked in the State’s Attorney office. Michael agreed to provide legal training, advice and contacts, lead the incorporation process, and serve on the board. The need for rights-based practice training is echoed by Sari Revkin, Executive Director of Shatil. Sari emphasizes “the lack of training by schools of social work in Israel in community organizing, and the lack of a value base in Israeli society around social rights, voluntarism and organizing.” Consequently, The New Israel Fund sends lawyers to American University in Washington to study Human Rights Law and to intern with Civil Liberties organizations in the USA for a year. She suggests something parallel with McGill and Genesis. Carlos Stiglitz, the senior community organizer at Shatil responsible for supervising all community

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organization work, had worked for and with Avner for several years following his immigration from Uruguay and joined the conversation and suggested that Israelis train at Project Genesis and the New Israel Fund send an Israeli law fellow to McGill’s who could intern at Project Genesis and MCHRAT. The idea of partnering with Israel through academic and practice training in Montreal began to percolate. I met Eli Ben Gera, President of Israeli Association of Social Workers, who agreed to join the advisory board, bringing with him the approval of the National Association. A plan emerged: we agreed on the Katamon-Pat neighborhood and to incorporate as a National organization. In the coming year, we would research community issues and access to service and knowledge of legal entitlements; identify common issues among immigrants, longstanding residents, and Israeli Arabs; recruit volunteers from the community; select staff; develop the Jerusalem Advisory board; and choose a storefront location. We did not, however, get the same degree of buy-in from the Paul Baerwald School of Social Work at the Hebrew University. I met with the director of the social work school and senior faculty. They proposed that I raise money to establish a human rights center at the social work school, which will have Genesis Jerusalem as an affiliated project along with a public advisory board. I was concerned that emphasis is being placed on building the institutional capacity of the school rather than the community. We agree to follow-up discussions. The attitude here, however, was different than at Ben Gurion University. BGU embraced the concept and saw mutual benefit, without discussion of financial benefit. Rather, BGU would contribute staff and even furniture for the Beersheba storefront. The school of social work at the Hebrew University was less enthusiastic, more established, and less on the move. *** Back in Beersheba, I was getting the classic runaround from Rafi, unable to schedule a meeting with him. Benny Gidron, former Director of the BGU school of social work and a board member of the New Israel Fund, advised that it be a university initiative – without the municipality. Benny believed that the municipality would not allow it to develop if it could not have complete control. There was no discord at the university about supporting this project. The social work department was prepared to provide students, supervisors, and office space and could then involve various municipal departments on an advisory board and on a professional basis. Although there was some readiness in Montreal to support Benny’s approach, I believed it was too early to consider it. Rafi had not declared himself against, we just hadn’t met yet. There were changes in the Montreal Jewish communal leadership, and one ought not count on the community to support this project independently if doing so undermined the Montreal–Beersheba relationship. Ideally, the city should be a partner, even if it places itself in an unfamiliar situation. Relationships between the University and Municipality were quite strained and alienated. Better to avoid becoming part of this history. Rather, let’s stick with it and seek ways to move it along.

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Dancing between the raindrops The meeting finally took place on June 15th. Rafi’s concerns were political: How do you manage a process like this so it doesn’t organize residents against the city? How might this process be caught up and used by residents in municipal elections scheduled for the fall of 93 and why have people from outside Beersheba involved?

I again explained that the project required the best efforts of residents, the municipality, the university, Montréal, and public persons. The advisory board would guide the development of the program. We would choose an advisory board consisting of people who are interested and dedicated to the task and who are not political and include persons with no vested interest and with stature. Because policy is national, it was important to include persons who had national influence. Regarding local elections scheduled for the fall of 1993, I suggested that only Rafi would benefit as he would surely claim that this successful project was his idea and developed under his leadership. Rafi moved a step closer and suggested a larger meeting to include the university, Montreal reps, Beersheba officials, and Project Renewal reps. It looked like the pieces were falling into place.

Tuesday June 24, 1992: national elections: Jerusalem The election brought Yitzchak Rabin and the Labor party to power, displacing the six-year reign of the Likud government. Of the 3,500,000 eligible voters, 77 per cent cast their ballots, and 10 political parties obtained Parliamentary standing in the 120-member Knesset. The left (labor, Meretz) gained seven seats; Likud lost eight seats – enough to usher in a Rabin-led Labor coalition government. The shift was profound, and over the next few years would reshape the course of history. Commencing with recognition of the Palestinian Authority, a commitment to a peace process as articulated in Oslo, and a historic announcement by President Bill Clinton on September 23, 1993 and its accompanying Rabin– Arafat handshake on the White House lawn. It was followed quickly with a formal peace treaty between Israel and the Kingdom of Jordan signed on October 26, 1994. Among my friends there’s joy and excitement; among many others there was anger and disbelief. *** Mayor Ijo Rager was not among the joyous. My meeting with him took place the day following the election. Yitzchak “Ijo” Rager, member of the Likud party, was elected Mayor of Beersheba in 1989 and served in that capacity until 1997, when he died while in office after a corruption investigation produced an indictment of fraud charges. Ijo’s career began as a European correspondent for Kol Yisrael and later as the Director-general of the Israel Broadcasting Authority. He was posted in the Israeli consulate in New York and focused on advancing emigration for Soviet Jews. Afterwards, he became World President of the State of Israel Bonds.

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The post-election gloom and shock around the Likud-led city hall was palpable. The mayor choked on a glass of water when the subject of the election was raised. I went over the plan repeating very carefully that the project was nonpolitical and would not interfere with municipal elections. I put forward the rationale for the national advisory board – to better address issues that emanate from national policy; that national support provides greater recognition for Beersheba’s needs; and that national leadership can articulate standards of nonpartisanship The Mayor asked for names of persons for the advisory board. I did not share with Ijo my concerns about control. Since Beersheba is reluctant to have “outsiders” (even from Beersheba) on the board and because of the endless struggles around control, politics and personalities, and the great danger of any project falling into this web – thus becoming largely ineffectual – it was imperative to maintain independent control and direction. I suggested those I believed to be the most politically neutral. Rager stated that “these names are all on the left, and the advisory board must have some right-wingers.” I tried to elevate the discussion; “I do not check a person’s political credentials as I believe this to be a private matter. The key to being on the board is a history of distinguished contributions in this field.” Ijo asked me to put two of his children on the advisory board as they have had some community work experience. “I would be happy to present their names to a nominating committee, but I would need their C.V.’s and letters of recommendation.” The mayor said he did not realize this was such a formal process and suggested not putting their names forward for now. The mayor did offer support because “it represents another and new aspect of a very important relationship with Montreal, even though Montreal could do better than $10 million.” I agreed that this was a unique relationship and thanked him for his support. Afterwards, there was more readiness among municipal partners. Rachel Levy got feedback from national leaders I had spoken with and felt that she had the backing to support the project publicly. Aviva Amit, Director of project renewal, said that the fact that I have persevered, that in doing so I have established independent contacts in Beersheba in a nonthreatening way and include them in my consultation; that I proposed a planning committee to include people rather than exclude; that I avoid negative comments or responses to comments about any of the players in Beersheba; that the planning committee will have a real role; and that people chosen by the committee will go to Montreal for serious training rather than me or Montreal appearing to export this project unilaterally.32 Aviva claimed that these were the cause for a changed, more positive attitude. Perhaps. I thought it had more to do with dancing between the raindrops. *** I attended a fascinating meeting chaired by Gabi Wexler from Shatil with a Coalition of Ethiopians in Beersheba and a National Association of Russian teachers.

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The meeting was held in the office of the Ethiopian association, which is a storefront across from the central bus station, on a street that serves as a casual hang out for soldiers, Russians, veteran Israelis, Bedouins, and Ethiopians. This was the second meeting between these groups. Initiated by the Russians, the purpose was to plan joint preschool and afterschool educational programs. The Russians were prepared to start the next day. They were all former professional teachers in the Soviet Union, familiar with bureaucracy, and knew they could get more money by working with the Ethiopians than alone. The Ethiopians were principally concerned at first with things they can see, where will it be, whose children, etc. The meeting was translated between Russian, Amharic, and Hebrew. Gabi was very skilled. The meeting progressed, and a joint planning committee with representatives from both groups was chosen. This was a remarkable meeting of cultures and styles and was reminiscent of the French English mix in organizing in Montreal. I was inspired with evidence “on the ground” that what I was proposing can and does happen and is an important piece of the development of Beersheba and of Israel. *** The follow-up, multi-agency meeting chaired by Rafi took place on Canada Day, July 1, 1992. I reviewed the plans for the coming year, seeking an agreement to go forward; an exchange of letters to that effect; and that the Municipality designate representatives to the planning committee. Rafi was worried that we will raise expectations against the city for which there were no resources – “you will be letting the devils out of the bottle” – and that it would interfere with municipal elections. I went over the ground rules: partnership; no political activity; will not begin actual service until the municipal election are well over; we are now in a planning phase. “I believe that it is too early to seek approval of a five-year project,” I said. It is too late, however, to agree only to do research. I am looking for an agreement in principle to do the project beginning with the research, and with an understanding that the project is closely monitored, under review and can be changed. Rafi agreed. Genesis Beersheba received official Municipal endorsement. I found the following reflection in my notes of June 1992: It is interesting to reflect on how a university – Ben Gurion – became the lead partner and institutional support in Beersheba while managing a relationship with an “at best” reluctant partner in the Municipality. In Jerusalem, the experience was the exact reverse. The lead partners are the Municipality, Shatil, and people from the community. The Hebrew University, at this point, remained interested but not prepared to commit itself until financial issues are resolved. In both cases, as in Montreal, however, a powerful local institution was necessary to create space in the local context for the emergence of our first two rights-based centers in the Middle East.33

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*** I ran into Merav Moshe-Grodofsky at a conference of the International Association of Schools of Social Work in Washington D.C. on July 12–13, 1992. Merav, originally from Long Island, moved to Israel with a Bachelor’s in social work from the State University of Albany in 1981. She obtained her MSW from Bar Ilan University and was the assistant director of the Ben Gurion School of Social Work Field work program in 1989. “With $6,000 for field work supervision, we can put a unit of eight students in the field to get the program going.” Merav became a key player. I was co-supervisor of her interdisciplinary Social Work-Law PhD from McGill. Merav became our regional coordinator, director of the social work program at Sapir Academic College, and today has pioneered three practice centers. Professor Julie Cwiekel arrived with her daughter in Montreal that summer with a Canadian government grant to study the applicability of Project Genesis to Israel. Julie was the first of many Israelis to visit Project Genesis, to see the model through her own eyes, and, just as I needed to do the same in Beersheba, make her own connections between what she saw and the Israeli reality she knew. Subsequently, the school of social work at Ben Gurion recognized Genesis Beersheba as a third-year field work placement for Bachelor’s students, asked me to develop a master’s-level course relating to Genesis for more specialized training, and suggested commencing Genesis in Beersheba with a unit of eight students at the start of the academic year in November 1992. I was asked by senior administrators at Ben Gurion if I would be willing to join their faculty on a part- time basis to help them gain accreditation for a master’s program focusing on “management and practice in small communities” and to teach a full year graduate course, which would be scheduled around my availability in Israel. I found the offer flattering, but I had logistical and ethical concerns. Logistically, being committed to teaching a full-year course when in Israel would necessitate having six-hour – all day – seminars. I worried that this could be exhausting and complicated to organize. On the other hand, I enjoy teaching in Hebrew as I think about things differently than I do in English. I wrote the director of the social work school as follows: I do have one technical request. In the 20 years I have been at McGill, I have never sought outside remuneration for any of my activities. This has been consistent with my belief that practice is a central component of teaching and research in a professional school, and that McGill University places a public trust in me to pursue these endeavors for the public good. In return, McGill has supported my work entirely and I have an excellent relationship with all levels of the university. I would like to maintain this position and would find it easiest to do so were I not to be paid a salary by BGU.34 I asked instead that the money be used to pay my legitimate expenses (travel, housing etc.) and the rest be given to Genesis Beersheba. This would become the practice for the five years I taught there. ***

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The Jerusalem planning committee met on October 18, 1992. The committee proposed that Project Genesis staff visit Israel, become familiar with the reality here, and develop a training program applicable to it. Subsequently, this committee would select several people for a month training at Project Genesis in Montreal. An update about incorporation was given by Michael Atlan; Alice Shalvi spoke about her arranging a meeting with the Mayor Teddy Kollek. I spoke about publicity for our opening and a major feature being prepared by The Jerusalem Post. Avner reported on the powerful response he and I got in response to our appearance on one of Israel’s most popular radio call-in talk shows, which focused on accessing rights.35 The Hebrew University Social Work program was not represented at the planning committee meeting. I met with the director to clarify financial matters and the director’s concern about official representation of the school. I suggested they join the planning committee, give input, and see how it evolved. “Right now, the bus is leaving the station, and I need to know if you are on it, or if I should pursue Tel Aviv University instead.” Subsequently, the director wrote: Following our meeting of October 22, we considered all aspects of our participation in ‘Project Genesis’. We are happy to inform you that we shall gladly participate in the Committee dealing with the preparation of the draft of the charter of the corporation. On the basis of this charter we shall be able to reach a decision regarding the nature of our subsequent participation in the Board of Directors.36 We were on our way. In November, the Montreal federation formally approved a $20,000 grant to launch Genesis Beersheba. Eight third-year social work students were recruited at Ben Gurion University, field work supervisors were put in place, and Merav Moshe began to assume an increasingly central role. Avner and Carlos would spend a day a week in the field with the students – providing external, ongoing expertise. The Jerusalem planning committee submitted the incorporation papers. In the end, the Kahanoff foundation decided to only give a one-time $50,000 grant, but this gave Genesis Jerusalem time to interest the Joint Distribution Committee, the National Insurance Institute, and various other Israeli and non-Israeli funders to invest in this idea. I returned to Israel in December 1992 for a meeting arranged by Alice Shalvi with the renowned Mayor of Jerusalem Teddy Kollek. I was accompanied by the Canadian Ambassador; the Canadian Minister of Multiculturalism Jerry Weiner, who was in Israel at the time; Justice Herbert Marx, chair of Canadian Friends of Genesis Israel; and members of the Jerusalem Planning Committee. Teddy Kollek had become synonymous with the City of Jerusalem and served as mayor for 28 years promoting culture, a vision of Jerusalem as a city of peace, and accommodation between Jews and Arabs. Mayor Kollek quickly gave his endorsement. He spoke favorably about the proposal and the people associated with it. Somewhat to my surprise, he recalled the

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last time I was in his office – 24 years prior – despite agreeing with what Avner and I were doing, he admonished us then for speaking with the press without municipal authorization (See Chapter 1). Following our meeting, Teddy Kollek wrote us the following letter of support:

Professor Jim Torczyner Genesis in Israel c/o McGill University School of Social Work 3506 University Street Montreal, Quebec CANADA H3A2A7

Dec. 24, 1992

Dear Professor Torczyner; I am writing to you in your capacity as the initiator of Project Genesis in Canada and in Israel and in relation to your efforts to secure funding from Canadian sources for Genesis in Jerusalem. I was very pleased to meet with you and with the Honourable Minister of Multiculturalism and Citizenship Gerry Weiner, Justice Herbert Marx, their wives, and members of the planning committee of Genesis in Jerusalem – Michael Atlan, Sari Revkin, Avrum Levi, Louis Goldberg and Gitit Gilran. As I mentioned in our meeting, I am very impressed with the Genesis in Jerusalem proposal and with the success you have had with it in Montreal. This kind of cooperation – which brings together community workers of the city of Jerusalem, distinguished citizens and Canadian expertise – to improve conditions for the disadvantaged in Jerusalem is highly valued and most welcome. On behalf of the City of Jerusalem, I extend to you my full support and encouragement. I look forward to your continued progress in realizing these objectives. Sincerely yours, Teddy Kollek

In a feature article in the Jerusalem Post on January 12, 1993, veteran journalist Susan Bellos chronicled the evolution of Genesis Israel from decades before in Jerusalem, then carried to Montreal in Project Genesis, and now being brought to Israel. The article reports the steps taken, the public support received, and the need for our rights-based approach. This article brought further recognition in Israel and internationally and helped us to establish a foothold. ***

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Eight enthusiastic, bright, idealistic, third-year Ben Gurion social work students launched Genesis Beersheba with their field work in the Yud Aleph neighborhood at the start of the semester in November 1992. With supervision from the school of social work and from Avner and Carlos, within six months events would transpire which would put Genesis Beersheba on the national map, lead to the withdrawal of the municipality of Beersheba from the steering committee, and consequently challenge the Montreal Federation–Genesis Beersheba relationship. We had chosen the Yud Aleph (number 11) neighborhood because the Mayor insisted that prior to the November 1993 municipal election we do nothing in the highly contested Daled neighborhood, which was the center of Project Renewal and Montreal–Beersheba activity. We did not want to start anywhere where a lot of our energies would have to be spent justifying what we wanted to do against an entangled web of frontal resistance. Our focus was to test out this model of rightsbased practice, which was new to Israel and quite foreign to Beersheba. Any new idea encounters professional and political resistance as well as public interest and support. We needed to make room for this new set of ideas. “Setting up the organization in Beersheba constitutes an achievement that has yet to be duplicated in Israel. Beersheba is far from the center of Israel and lacks a culture of voluntary organizations for social change” (Kaufman p. 2).37 We believed that local issues stemmed from national policy, and we could, therefore, identify issues in Yud Aleph that would be generalizable to other neighborhoods in Beersheba. Yud Aleph had a diverse population with Russian and Ethiopian immigrants living among longstanding residents – primarily of Moroccan origin In December and early January, I gave workshops to the student group. Students were excited about rights-based ideas. They had been taught about interdisciplinary clinical practice, working with physicians, psychiatrists, and others to develop treatment approaches for individuals. For them, however, this was their first experience in working with lawyers to advocate for policy change as well as to assist individuals to access rights and to harness the capacity of volunteers in the community as advocates for change. The students pored over demographic data and research studies. They developed a list of contacts in the community, divided up into teams, and interviewed the local school principals, the director of the immigration center, the director of the health clinic, and the manager of public housing in the neighborhood. They listened and observed and then knocked on doors. They met many people – some struggling with the trauma of immigration and the suspicion and hostility they felt from their veteran Israeli neighbors; elderly persons, and single parents who did not know what their rights were or how to access them. Consider these two situations encountered while door-knocking: •

An immigrant family who lived in an Absorption Center for seven years receives an apartment. They sign a four-page legal contact they cannot read. The contract calls for a rent increase from 80 shekels a month to 900 in the

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new apartment. Total family income is 1,500 shekels for a family of eight. The family was told that their file will be passed on to the municipal welfare office where their rent will be subsidized. The file does not get passed on. Nine hundred shekels a month are automatically deducted from their bank account for six months. The family can no longer afford after-school programs for their children. The mother has a miscarriage and is prescribed tranquilizers. A woman repeatedly beaten by her husband flees her old neighborhood with her children to seek a better and safer life for them. In the old neighborhood, her children were eligible for after school programs “Because of Montreal,” which subsidized these programs in the Daled neighborhood. In the new neighborhood, there are no Project Renewal subsidies. She quits her job to be home in the afternoon with her young children and ends up on welfare.38

Parents did not know what to do about the elimination of after-school programs, educational enrichment activities, and special education classes from neighborhood schools due to cutbacks by the national government. These services became privatized – no longer considered as core, public education entitlements but available on a fee basis, which local residents relied on but could not aford. Many residents had gone deep into debt with escalating interest rates charged by banks. In March 1993, the Genesis Beersheba group convened a well-attended meeting of the directors and staff of the social welfare offices, health clinics, schools, and immigrant absorption center – a broad spectrum of the service provider community with whom the students had conducted prior interviews. The students introduced their findings from the study, and the Project’s goals and methods. The services agreed to cooperate and provide access to their clients who needed rights advocacy. In addition, the social workers who participated in the meeting gave information on common problems experienced by their clients that require rights’ advocacy. One of them raised the issue of denial of educational services from children whose parents owed money to the school. Another issue that surfaced was the problematic relationship between the public housing company “Amidar” and its tenants. (Kaufman p. 9) Energized by the meeting, the students began to recruit interest from community members. A single mother’s group was established to educate them about their rights and how to promote them. The students dealing with public housing tenants’ rights focused on advocating for immigrants from Ethiopia who were asked to pay rent they could not afford – having signed contracts they did not fully understand. Following the student’s intervention many of these problems were solved. In addition to the direct intervention on access to rights, the students also prepared a fact sheet to hand out to residents that included

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Dancing between the raindrops basic information on legal rights and social services regulations. However, the major student activity focused on a campaign aimed at promoting education rights. (Kaufman p. 9)

Toward the end of March 1993, the students met with Avner Amiel and Michael Atlan. Michael helped the students understand the concept of legal rights and how it applies to the daily lives of disadvantaged people. Avner suggested that the students focus on the denial of school services from pupils from poor families. He explained that it is a good issue because it is a clear discrimination of a basic human right for a substantial group. Avner stated that the local issues experienced by parents were a direct result of decisions of the national government. Avner also suggested the students start the process by meetings with individual and families whose children had suffered from discrimination. (Kaufman p. 10) The parents experienced two kinds of school-related issues. First, their children were denied the same rights and services as other children because their parents owed money to the school. These children were not allowed to go on school trips, participate in extra-curricular activities, or receive a copy of their report cards. Second, children with special needs were no longer provided with tutors or educational enrichment programs because these services had been privatized and were too costly. Ben Gurion Faculty conducted research and discovered that close to 15,000 Beersheba children were living in poverty in 1993 – which, according to the weekly “Hadashot,” represented the highest concentration of poor children in Israel. The group – consisting of the students, Avner, neighborhood parents, and academics – wrote the principals and asked them to reverse the practice of denying report cards and participation in school outings to children whose parents owed money to the schools and to join them in a campaign to get the national government to reinstate funding for programs for children with special needs. *** I arrived in Israel on April 21 – able to stay only until June 3. For the first time in 20 years, I would be moving houses in Montreal a few weeks after my return. I wanted to observe, assist, and participate in the students’ evolving work and to plan how to continue once the academic year is over. “I am interested to hear if there are particularly outstanding students who may be potential staff. And, we should also project budgets for these hires,” I wrote.39 My trip coincided with a Montreal Project Renewal mission. At the request of the Montreal committee and on very short notice, I asked the eight Ben Gurion students to prepare a presentation for them in English. The enthusiasm and understanding of this group of students exemplified the potential power of

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academic institutions – faculty and students – to change lives of the most disadvantaged. The leadership of the Montreal Jewish community gave high praise to the presentation. I was often invited to give presentations at professional and academic conferences, one of which was the May 6th Israeli Social Work Conference for Social Work Pensioners. I spoke about our rights-based approach and about Project Genesis in Montreal. I underscored how important it was for us to recruit seniors as volunteer advocates. Twenty retired social workers signed up to become volunteers at Genesis Beersheba. For me, however, the most memorable encounter at this event was when a retired, elderly social worker came up to me and asked “Are you related to? . .” As I often did with this question, I interrupted her and said, “Do you mean my uncle Jacques or my uncle, Professor Tur-Sinai” (two well-known figures in the Jewish world.) No, she said, “Are you related to Eta?” I responded: “Yes, my aunt Eta, the youngest of all my father’s eleven siblings.” She wrote out a note in German for me to deliver to my aunt Eta and said, “It is so wonderful to have news from Eta, I have no news from her since she had the affair with a French officer before the war.” Stunned, a family secret revealed, I was delighted to receive this 50-yearold, juicy, family nugget, which, when I asked her about it, my aunt smiled and conveniently denied. We had funds to hire two co-coordinators for four months and to have them spend some time in Montreal, training at Project Genesis. All eight students applied, and we asked each one to write a short statement as to why they wanted the job. The two we hired were Hadas Maabari (later, married Barzelai) and Michal Cohen. Hadas was understated, had not spoken much in group discussions, and, consequently, wasn’t, at first, considered to be a strong candidate. That is, until I read her statement. Hadas, of Yemenite background, grew up in transit camps. She wrote about how she experienced what a lack of hope felt like in entire communities and the lack of respect with which they were treated by government institutions. “Genesis speaks to me on so many levels. I have been quiet during discussions not because I haven’t had much to say, but because I have been thinking and processing on so many levels.”40 Hadas would go on to become the director of Genesis Beersheba and lead it for 15 years. Michal was from Mitzpe Ramon, a small development town located by the Ramon Crater – the world’s largest erosion crater – created 220 million years ago. Michal would go on to have a family after her first year with us. While back in Montreal, the CEO of the New Israel Fund (NIF), Norm Rosenberg, flew in from Washington D.C. to see Project Genesis, and he liked what he saw. We explored the possibility of the New Israel Fund sponsoring a law fellow at McGill for a master’s in law – an internship at Project Genesis – and then return to Israel to establish a legal clinic at Genesis Jerusalem. This idea of the McGill Middle East Program/ICAN fellowship programs was aided, if not inspired, by The New Israel Fund law fellowship program. Norman – a former human-rights lawyer with grassroots experience in Buffalo and summer roots as a Catskills

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musician – and I went for lunch at Multi-Caf, a community cafeteria established by Project Genesis to involve and serve those who lacked food. Now independent and run by the people who use the service, we sat at a table alongside homeless people and enjoyed a meal and a conversation with them. By the time the day was over, we had agreed in principal that the New Israel Fund would become an important supporter of Genesis Jerusalem. In May 1993, the New Israel Fund selected Carole Younes. Algerian-born and Paris-trained, Carole was trilingual and brought exceptional experience to the Montreal scene where she also worked very closely with the late Professor Rod MacDonald, former Dean of the Faculty of Law and Chair of the Canadian Parliamentary Commission on Access to Justice. *** During June 1993, the students focused on the school rights issue. The students approached journalists from local and national media to report on the denial of rights to kids from low income families. The group had some success and personal stories of parents and pupils that suffered from the policy were published in the local and national media. Letters on the need to change the policy were sent to the municipal education department. At that stage the students and their supervisors decided on organizing a public conference for June 24th where parents would be able to raise their concerns in the presence of officials and politicians. They invited the school principals and the Beersheba parents’ board to co-sponsor the event. Meanwhile a group of parents organized and took an active role in the conference preparations. (Kaufman p. 11) The team contacted Knesset members. About 10 articles appeared in the press over a two-week period, giving voice to an issue that had received no prior public attention. Representatives of the Ministry of Education and a Knesset member agreed to participate on the panel. The municipality refused. 2:00 A.M. Sunday morning, June 20th. The phone blasts me out of a deep sleep. I had just moved. It takes me awhile to find the phone among randomly stacked boxes piled high. “If you don’t stop the conference, over my dead body will there be a Genesis organization in Beersheba.” It was the mayor. He accused me of breaking our agreement and of organizing against the city prior to the election. Scrambling to respond, half asleep, finding a box to sit on, I recall saying that I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. And I don’t want to. “This is a national issue and the city should be with us. Together we should demand that the Ministry of Education fix it, and we should congratulate our students for their efforts.” Ijo banged down the phone. There followed a flurry of recrimination, accusations of non-consultation, third-party interventions and feather-smoothing that, once again, exemplified the perils of politicization and what to do when confronted with it.

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The conference – now referred to as a rally and soon to be referred to as a “demonstration” – all before anything actually took place, went ahead. There would be significant damage, however. In my view, being far away in Montreal, I was stunned how quickly things unraveled. The students had talked about moving ahead; there seemed to be a growing consensus about Genesis and that we had found our way to dance between the raindrops by focusing the issue on national policy and not on the municipal level. Instead, I found myself amidst a desert storm – dancing between raindrops was not an option. The meeting was held in a large public hall in the center of the city on June 24th, 1993 and was attended by several hundred people and the local and national media. The panel members included a variety of national and local politicians, government officials, and representatives of local and national professional associations. Knesset member Pini Badash supported the parents and spoke out against the phenomenon of denial of educational services. He promised to demand that the Minister of Education explain to the Knesset why he had not taken the necessary steps to end this unbearable situation. The deputy mayor Rafi Shitrit, however, said that the parents’ claims were baseless. He added that he had been against the establishment of the Project Genesis and that now he was sorry that the project had started. Avner Amiel tried to divert the discussion from the municipal to the national level by saying that the government is in charge of the policy and not the municipality. (Kaufman p. 11) Having Pinhas Badash as the Knesset member on the panel was a stroke of Avner’s genius and helped to quiet the waters about “leftists.” Badash was serving as mayor of Omer – a very affluent suburban town on the outskirts of Beersheba. He was also a member of the Knesset for Tzomet41 between 1992 and 1998, which was a secular, right-wing party. Badash did raise the issue of the lack of previously publicly funded services for low income children in the Knesset. Education Minister Eli Rubenstein pledged to rectify the situation as quickly as possible. A petition, signed by 600 Beersheba parents, was presented to him. A flurry of positive press ensued. The Steering committee met three days later on June 26. Kaufman renders this account: The committee members at the meeting were joined by the eight students and their supervisors. The Municipality representatives stated that the group had not informed the committee about their activities, and as a result had breached the agreement between Project Genesis and the city. They mentioned that the Project was meant to deal with national policy issues and not local. They said that the city wanted to freeze all the Project activities. (Kaufman p. 12)

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I did write Mayor Rager several times. We were poised to scale up and set up in the Daled neighborhood, we had the support of Montreal and Ben Gurion, and the students had put us on the map. Avner would be visiting Montreal in July, and his visit would be followed by that of Hadas and Michal – all generating positive momentum. Rager threatened on several occasions to shut us down; it was before the municipal elections, and we had every interest in resolving this issue and moving on. Yet, even though we had ignited the ire of the Mayor, he was unable to shut us down or cancel the public meeting precisely because he did not control us and because we had established a very important and strong partnership with Ben Gurion University and the Montreal Federation as well as with neighborhood residents. The Montreal Federation’s independent evaluation of its Project Renewal programs was very critical of the Beersheba municipality and the overall project renewal program. The Mayor did not want to jeopardize the relationship with Montreal, which was already rumored to “be reconsidering its involvement in Project Renewal in Daled” (Kaufman p. 13). We did not want to be an issue of contention between Montreal and Beersheba. Rather, I believed that I could count on Montreal’s support and the Ben Gurion partnership. I advised staff “to continue to approach the municipality as partners. We have to be sensitive to the concerns of the municipality. At the same time, we must proceed in a manner which is professionally sound.”42 The municipality’s objections and complaints – all based on control rather than substance – continued, making it abundantly clear that a partnership with this mayor was not feasible. Independence from the municipality was a good idea – if we could maintain Montreal’s support. The mayor was going to resist the emergence of any organization independent of his influence and control and, specifically, did not want us in the Daled neighborhood. The Daled neighborhood is poor, run-down, and has high vacancy and turnover rates. Why the preoccupation with Daled? I did not know, but my instincts sensed that there was more to this than what appeared. I heard rumors and read things in the local press about real-estate speculation in the neighborhood tied to city hall with plans to tear down the poor housing in Daled and rebuild the neighborhood for upper-middle-class folks. Houses were being bought and left unoccupied. The Beersheba newspapers reported that the contract to manage the early childhood center funded by Montreal was awarded to a private non-profit corporation in Tel Aviv, which contributed heavily to the mayor’s re-election campaign. This corporation was awarded many contracts in Beersheba for the management of group homes for seniors, nursing homes, and day centers for the disabled. According to local papers, all these contracts were fixed, and people in Beersheba were not informed to bid on them. Further, residents expressed many concerns that the early childhood center would cater to middle-class people from other neighborhoods. The municipality claimed that there were high turnover and vacancy rates and chronic drug problems. Municipal services such as police, housing, welfare,

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recreation, education, and sanitation were neglecting the Daled neighborhood. These were all parts of a puzzle with many missing pieces that may have influenced the mayor’s reluctance for us to enter the Daled neighborhood. *** The arrival of Avner in Montreal in August was much anticipated – particularly in the Sephardic community. Avner is an understated, much-loved folk hero in the Moroccan community, and having the opportunity to meet him, hear his views, and host him was a highlight event on the Sephardic calendar. Avner’s visit coincided with the signing of the first agreement of the Oslo Accords on August 20, 1993. The signing gave Avner a platform to speak about the relationship between the occupation and inequality in Israel. Avner argued that the diversion of resources from programs to reduce inequality and promote civil society in Israel to support the occupation was taking a harsh toll on Israeli citizens. The widening gap between those who have and those who do not is, Avner maintained, in part a result of the occupation. “Large Israeli industries profit from the occupation while the average Israeli is increasingly frustrated and deeper in debt,” he said. “The occupation – with its accompanying violence on both sides – will erode the soul of Israel as it normalizes violence in everyday life.” Avner praised the community leadership for supporting Genesis Israel as “a clear alternative to providing funds for programs which are in essence the obligations of the State of Israel.” Avner’s visit was followed by the arrival of Hadas and Michal, who spent several weeks at Project Genesis observing how it worked, collecting material for translation into Hebrew and adaptation to Israel. The energy was reciprocal and the relationships mutually reinforcing. It would be followed by a visit from the executive director and storefront coordinator of Project Genesis and, later, by several Project Genesis volunteers. *** In Jerusalem, the municipality designated staff for the Genesis team. The JOINT distribution committee, the Jewish Agency, the National Insurance Institute, the New Israel Fund, and the Moriah Fund became funders. A search committee was struck to hire the Jerusalem branch/national director. Four finalists were selected, and the committee interviewed each of them. I was a member of the committee but unable to be present. I gave my views about the finalists and spoke with them on the phone. The committee reached a consensus and offered the position to Barbara Epstein. Barbara and her husband, Randy, moved to Israel from New York in 1976. Barbara had an MSW degree from Rutgers University, where she specialized in community organization and planning and had direct organizing experience in her field work with a Newark tenants’ association. In Israel, she worked as a community worker, became the acting executive director of The Israeli Movement for Progressive Judaism and, at the time of her application, coordinated a citizen participation demonstration project. Barbara supervised social work students from the Hebrew University, was a board member of the New Israel fund, and was a

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chairperson of the Shatil Steering committee. Having been hired in September, Barbara visited Montreal a month later to familiarize herself with Project Genesis and to introduce herself to the Montreal community. I understood that there was a potential conflict of interest here. Sari Revkin was the executive director of Shatil and a Genesis Israel board member. Barbara Epstein was chairperson of Shatil, and, consequently, Sari was accountable to her. At Genesis, however, Barbara would be accountable to Sari. Notwithstanding, we felt that Barbara was the best candidate and that Sari had been playing a vital role in the development of Genesis Israel. With a common purpose and given the depth of the board membership, I believed that conflicts of interest could be avoided. The hiring of an executive director in Israel would necessarily change my role. As the organizations in Beersheba and Jerusalem developed, they would require local hands to make decisions. For the adaptation of this rights-based model to succeed, it would have to be “totally owned” by local people and local organizations. My direct involvement in operational decisions would lessen, as would my knowledge of day to day affairs. Transitions in organizational and personal life are often unexpected and are always emotionally charged. Transitions create opportunities but can be risky, threatening, and generate uncertainty. Successful organizational transitions have a great deal to do with timing along three central dimensions. Internal organization – having the right people – staff, students, volunteers, and board members who understand and are committed to making rights-based practice work on the ground and have the tenacity to stick with it and the wisdom as to when to hand over their authority and transition to another role. Michels warned of “the iron law of oligarchy”43 “where, over time, power becomes concentrated in the hands of a few.” While there are advantages to accumulated organizational experience and continuity, if people remain in staff or volunteer functions too long it will, over time, undermine democracy and participation, which is the life’s blood of rights-based organizations. New staff, board members, and storefront volunteers can infuse the organization with ideas, passion, and energy. Delegating authority facilitates the emergence of new leadership, and the creation of new valued, organizational roles widens the circle – making it possible for leaders to give over their roles, perhaps assume new ones, and feel pride in their contribution. The second dimension concerns the organization’s activity on the ground and its place in the community – its physical location and what it does in terms of outreach, organizing, advocacy, and storefront and the respect it has earned in the community. The third dimension concerns external resources. These are both monetary resources as well as institutional support. The more time devoted to fundraising, the less time available for actual service. Rights-based practice in nongovernmental organizations will never have fully secure financial resources, and this is not necessarily a bad thing. It depends on the balance. Without an 18-month forecast with two thirds of its budget secure, the organization can’t plan, will do less in the community, and will do more in trying to impress funders

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and the public to support it. Having a secure, multi-year funding partner around whom other funders can be recruited is of vital importance when rights-based practice moves from its initiation to an ongoing organization. Organizations in their early stages, particularly those promoting rights-based practice, require strong institutional support. With Project Genesis, I had McGill. In Beersheba, we had Ben Gurion University, and in Jerusalem we had the municipality – each provided legitimacy and resources to help create the initial space for the emergence of these organizations. *** Work on incorporation was in advanced stages – with one big hitch. We wanted to incorporate as Genesis Israel but soon discovered that not only was there an incorporated organization named “Genesis Israel” in Beersheba; there were literally hundreds of organizations that had “Genesis” as part of their organizational name, many of them of a religious nature. After much deliberation, the board decided to incorporate under the name Community Advocacy (Singur Kehilati), which took effect in June 1994. “Project Genesis” was formally registered as a notfor-profit voluntary organization and changed its name to “Community Advocacy” (CA). CA had two branches, the head office in Jerusalem and an additional branch in Beersheba. The wording on the application was: Community Advocacy is a non-political, not-for-profit organization, whose goal is to raise the awareness of the average Israeli regarding his rights in general and his social rights in particular, to enhance those rights and to assist in their realization with the bureaucracy.44 In Beersheba, following an October 1993 meeting with the municipality, Amnon Shinar summarized the consensus in a memo to Maxyne Finkelstein at the Montreal Federation: It was agreed that Genesis will operate in Beersheva as an independent corporation. The Municipality will appoint a representative to insure the coordination between them and Genesis. Genesis will continue its work in the “Yud Aleph” neighborhood and there is an understanding that it will gradually expand to the “Vav” (number 6) neighborhood and “Daled” neighborhood. The above represents a consensus of all the participants in the meeting.45 Shortly thereafter Federation/CJA (renamed from Allied Jewish Community services) granted Genesis Beersheba $49,600 from its administrative budget to carry it until the next budget year commencing April 1994. In November 1993, Ben Gurion University and McGill University signed a Memorandum of Understanding regarding joint teaching, research, and exchange of students and faculty. Municipal elections took place throughout Israel on November 2, 1993. Ijo Rager was re-elected mayor of Beersheba. Rachel Levy, director of social services,

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switched from the labor party to the Likud and was appointed Deputy Mayor by Ijo Rager. The stage was now set for the December meetings. I expected things to unfold as planned. With the mayor re-elected, he had no coherent threats to worry about for the next five years. The senior municipal staff, Ben Gurion, and Montreal were in synch. Or so I thought. The meeting was convened by the Mayor and included Montreal members of the Project Renewal Committee, senior municipal staff, and representatives of Genesis Beersheba. All the names of the Genesis Beersheba representatives were cleared with the Mayor’s office prior to the meeting: Professor Jon Anson; Joseph Mustaki – a local resident steering committee representative who developed an orchestra consisting entirely of immigrants; and Dov Rubin – director of social planning for development towns in Negev, Ministry of Labor. At the start of the meeting, the Mayor declared he would not permit Genesis Beersheba to be part of Project Renewal and that he had veto power over all Project Renewal expenditures in Beersheba. He accused me of being a political instigator and stormed out of the meeting – screaming “over my dead body will Genesis happen in my city.” Why would the mayor attempt to blow things up after all parties were an agreement? Was he that emboldened by the election results that he was no longer hesitant in doing whatever he wanted? Montreal was also not pleased with the Mayor’s assertion of veto power. Were there other things going on in the Daled neighborhood and other plans for it that would account for the Mayor’s behavior? Professor Dov Bahat, the Rector of Ben Gurion University, sought to mediate. His attempt failed, and he wrote me that “I regret to inform you that the meeting that you and I wanted to hold with Mayor Rager in order to settle previous misunderstandings, was refused by him, claiming that you involve yourself and others in political instigations.”46 I rewrote the Beersheba proposal in the first days of January 1994 based on the premise that the Montreal–Genesis–Beersheba funding relationship would be less problematic if, for the next year, Montreal funded Genesis not from Project Renewal budgets, which require municipal approval. The proposal left the door open for the mayor to reconsider and for the city to participate on the steering committee. Considering the Municipality of Beersheba’s decision to withdraw from the Beersheba Steering committee, seven persons were elected to the Genesis Beersheba Steering Committee on January 19, 1994. Kaufman noted: The composition of the new steering committee demonstrated the complete separation from the municipality and the ‘establishment’ in general, and the growing connection to the university and to outstanding figures in the neighborhood that could help the Project. It also reflected the creation of new sources of support in the city for the organization, enabling it to continue its activities. (Kaufman p. 16) On January 13, 1994, Robert Berger confirmed “that we will allocate an additional $50,000 (U.S.) from the administrative budget for 1994–1995 on April 1,

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1994” with the proviso that we would avoid entanglements with the Mayor, seek out other sources of funding, and coordinate with the Project Renewal committee. The next day Robert confirmed this arrangement with Mayor Rager with the proviso, “We have advised him (me) that the objectives of our Project are primary and therefore should not be affected by the operation of Project Genesis, Beersheba or we will reconsider our participation.”47 We had weathered the storm, danced between the raindrops, moved toward the people, and were poised to cross boundaries. *** While Community Advocacy Beersheba was moving forward and avoiding entanglements with the municipality, the municipality and the mayor himself were becoming increasingly entangled in a web of rumors, investigations, and charges regarding financial impropriety, contract rigging, and fraud. Beersheba newspapers questioned the awarding of the contract to manage the early childhood center that Montreal was financing and alleged that the company was making money by catering programs to children from wealthier families outside the neighborhood – to the exclusion of children from the Daled neighborhood where it was located and intended to service. I had been teaching a graduate seminar at Ben Gurion University in the winter semester of 1994. The students were all middle or senior management in various public service organizations. At the last class, one student asked if she could speak with me about a personal matter. I agreed and went to my departmental office. She asked me if I knew what she did professionally. I said that I wasn’t sure but thought she worked in probation services. “Not quite,” she said. “I am a state prosecutor for the Southern District.” “And, you want to speak with me about a personal matter!” I exclaimed in surprise, thankful that I had left the office door open. “Yes, I cannot talk about the contents of our investigations, but we are looking into the contract between the municipality and the organization it signed with to manage the Montreal-funded Early Childhood Center.” She went on to say that there was no doubt that the Montreal Jewish community was unaware of what had transpired, but it was likely that the mayor would be indicted, and the indictment would include matters related to this contract. “Montreal can cancel this contract with 30 days’ notice, and it should consider doing so before indictments are handed down. I know that this is personal to you and members of the Jewish community. So, this is the ‘personal matter’ I wanted to discuss with you.” I met with federation leadership upon my return to Montreal in early July 2004. Days before, the Israeli Ministry of Interior appointed an external comptroller for the Municipality of Beersheba “to temporarily assist in managing the city, until its financial situation stabilized.”48 The meeting did not go well. I shared with the group what I was told, what I had seen, and what I had read and suggested to them that they cancel the contract with the management company and engage in a process to find an organization in Beersheba to manage the early childhood center where residents and parents could be involved in decision making. One federation officer accused me of stirring things up for my own ends and said that Federation should cease funding

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Genesis Israel. “If the community finds out, it will hurt the campaign,” and then mentioned that he co-chaired an important committee with Mayor Rager, and his own reputation would be on the line. He declared “we may be compelled to terminate the funding upon which we have agreed upon sufficient notice only to permit you to pay already incurred liabilities, that is, 30 days!” The Jewish community in Montreal had pressing domestic priorities. Support for Israel was being overshadowed by local needs. A separatist government was in power in Quebec, and plans were underway for a second referendum on independence. The uncertainty was continuing a demographic shift in the Montreal Jewish community as younger families were moving out of province – leaving a higher percentage of elderly and poor people in Montreal. Campaign revenues were not increasing sufficiently to meet local community needs, and the percentage of campaign allocations directed to Israel, though remaining very significant, had been getting increasingly smaller. In parallel, Deputy Mayor Rachel Levy wrote Federation leadership: The combination of the Genesis workers and anti-establishment political entities in the neighborhood is a matter for serious concern. These factors are calling for militant action against the municipality and this is creating constant tension and conflict in the neighborhood. We have the feeling that there is a conflict of interest between the professional stance demonstrated by Professor Jim Torczyner, both as a professional person and as a representative of the community in the matter of community work with which we have no argument, and his personal involvement in the Genesis project. Therefore, this unhealthy process must be stopped. Professor Torczyner’s formal position, as well as the formal mechanisms which will enable the development of this process, must be defined clearly.49 Maxyne Finkelstein, responsible for the Federation’s Israel program, voiced her ambivalence but stressed that funding should be continued. Following our conversation yesterday I felt that perhaps I was not very clear on why I feel that continued support for Genesis in Beersheva should be considered at some level. . . . From a personal and professional perspective, I have found the process of working with Jim Torczyner difficult and time consuming. . . . At the same time, I have only heard positive feedback concerning the approach of Genesis in addressing issues such as access to special education programs for immigrants and assisting low income families in enrolling their children in expensive afternoon activities that the schools organize. . . . I take my cues from those who ultimately decided to support Genesis in Montreal. The development of that organization was difficult and unpleasant but today Project Genesis in Cote des Neiges is a service we look to with pride – it serves the least advantaged and is a statement of our caring for our neighborhood in the broadest sense.

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The Municipality of Beersheva has a shameful record of encouraging neighborhood organization .  .  . does not nurture a grassroots approach to organizing. We know that any chance of impacting the multi-generational poverty cycle will come in part when an individual begins to take control of h/her life and can envision a way out. Project Genesis can help make this happen – a government cannot because the individual is never the focus of attention. . . . I believe we should tell Jim that we expect that future requests will come from Genesis Israel and not from him on McGill stationary and that we expect Barbara Epstein and the board to be involved. I believe this is a way to move the focus away from Jim and toward the Project.50 On December 27, 1994, a Federation delegation visited Genesis Beersheba – followed by a two-week working trip by Alice Herscovitch – Executive Director of Project Genesis – and Storefront Coordinator, Marcie Klein. Later, Project Genesis volunteers Edith and Harry Mindel and Nadia Rotter visited the storefronts and exchanged experiences with their Israeli counterparts. Two weeks later, President Lester Lazarus wrote Barbara Epstein, The Montreal Federation, having worked closely with you in the development and establishment of Project Genesis in Beersheba, is pleased to extend our commitment for $100,000 funding to fiscal 1995–1996.”51 In a follow up letter, Lester Lazarus committed Federation to three year funding with a progressive reduction of 25% each year ($75,000 in year 2, and $56,250 in year 3). Along with this commitment, the letter underscored that they could terminate funding should the work compromise Federation’s relationship with the Beersheba municipality and in future years, the actual request for funds should be received from the Board of Directors of community Advocacy/Genesis Israel. The communicator for the request should be the Executive Director of community Advocacy/Genesis Israel. I had no objection to leaving the role of interlocutor between Community Advocacy and Federation/CJA Project Renewal Committee. I did not want to be part of an unravelling scandal with the Municipality of Beersheba and Mayor Rager. As dramatic and gripping as the Rager saga had become, for me, it was quite secondary. I had set out to launch rights-based community practice in Israel and had done so in Beersheba and Jerusalem. Now was a quite fitting time for me to remove myself from this triangularized relationship. Community Advocacy had excellent staff leadership and outstanding programs on the ground, and Federation/CJA was committed to significant three-year funding. Barbara Epstein was demonstrably capable of representing Community Advocacy overseas and with the staff and leadership of the Montreal Federation. The results on the ground were ones that she and Hadas were responsible for delivering, were experiences that they lived and that they could better represent than me.

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Epilogue On December 25, 1995, Mayor Itzchak Rager was indicted for fraud. On December 25, 1995 the Jerusalem Post reported that Mayor Ijo Rager had been indicted for multiple charges of fraud and breach of trust including filing two and three separate expense reports for the same items for reimbursement from different sources that he controlled. On June 16th, 1997 – weeks before his trial was to commence – Beersheba Mayor Yitzhak Rager died in office at age 65. On November 26, 1998, the federation president wrote the newly elected mayor about the deplorable state of the Early Childhood Center and its management and asked that the contract with the management company be cancelled: This past July we were advised that members of the Kehila Amuta raided the offices of the Early Childhood Center and subsequently fired its director. Since then we have witnessed the slow deterioration of the Center. What was once a model of early childhood education not only for Beersheba but for all of Israel has become a mediocre gan yeladim (children’s nursery). We ask that you terminate the contract between the municipality and Kehila. In the case of the EEC we ask that a new governing body be established and that it be accountable to the Advisory Board of the EEC. We also ask that the director be reinstated.52 Mayor Rager’s legacy was summed up in the Jerusalem Post as follows: In pursuit of progress, Rager encountered allegations of corruption, crooked deals and graft-motivated business dealings. Even today, public sentiment remains divided. Say the name Yitzhak Rager, and half of those who remember him will say that he was the finest man to walk the earth, while the other half insists he belonged in jail. Even the street name change was disputed. Yitzhak Shatil, author of several books on Beersheba including a history of its streets, recounts how it happened: “It was very ugly,” he says, when Yitzhak Rager passed away in office, a group of his supporters went directly to the city council during a public meeting and proposed changing the name to Sderot Rager. No one had heard of the name-change proposal before – it was a complete shock. Everyone, including the council, was taken by surprise. But the city hall was full of people – under those circumstances, who could say no? I argued against it, asking why they’d take this important name – honoring the presidents – and change it to the name of a politician. It wasn’t right. I would reflect on this turn of events often as I would drive over Itzchak Rager Boulevard before turning to get to our storefront in Schunat Daled.

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Notes 1 Roni Kaufman, “From Project Genesis” to “Community Advocacy”- Establishing “Community Advocacy” in Israel 1991–1994 p. 5. 2 Fred Lazin, “Citizen Participation: Project Renewal in Israel.” Journal of Urban Affairs, Vol. 18, No. 3, 1996; see also Fred Lazin, Politics and Policy Implementation: Project Renewal in Israel, Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1994. 3 The International Committee (1984) (IC). (1983, 1984, and 1985). 4 Fred Lazin, Op. cit. 5 L. Shelah, “Three Aspects of Local Steering Committees in Project Renewal: Composition, Involvement and Decision-Making.” Mimeographed, Jerusalem: Hebrew University, Labor and Welfare Research Institute, 1984. 6 International Committee for the Evaluation of Project Renewal, 1984, 1985; Op. cit. 7 Fred Lazin, Op. cit. 8 With regard to “over nourishment and missions to Israel” see Chaim Chertok, Israeli Preoccupations: Dualities of a Confessional Citizen, New York, NY: Fordham University Press, 1994. 9 Neil Gilbert and Harry Specht, Dynamics of Community Planning, Cambridge, MA: Ballinger Publishing Co., 1977. 10 Doron and Karger Privatizing Social Services and its Effects on Israeli Society International journal of social welfare April 1992. 11 “Evaluation of Montreal Jewish Community Projects in Beersheba: 1988–1992.” (Miri Levin-Rozalis volume 1 p. 16), Beersheba, Israel, 1994. 12 Levin-Rozalis, op. cit. (p. 16). 13 Peter Marris, The Politics of Uncertainty: Attachment in Private and Public Life, Abingdon, UK: Routledge, 1996. 14 Correspondence, Maxyne Finkelstein Dec. 16, 1991. 15 see Genesis 21: 22–34. 16 Genesis 28: 10–15 and 46: 1–7. 17 I Kings 19: 3. 18 Beer-Sheva municipality archived February 21, 2009, at the Wayback Machine., Dun’s 100. 19 The Renewal and Development Plan of Beersheba, 1989. 20 Los Angeles Times, January 30, 2005. 21 Beersheba neighborhoods were assigned numbers – Daled is 4. 22 Avni et. al. (Cities 53, 2016). 23 Named after the father of a prominent Montrealer. 24 I kept detailed field notes throughout the development of the Middle East program. These field notes, as well as various correspondence, newspaper accounts, proposals, and other documents, are frequently cited in the narration of this story and are archived at ICAN McGill. Quotations in this chapter, unless otherwise cited, are from: Jim Torczyner, Confidential Field Notes, January 1992. 25 Fred Lazin, Politics and Policy Implementation: Project Renewal in Israel, Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1994, p. 55. 26 http://in.bgu.ac.il/en/Pages/management/Former_Presidents.aspx. 27 Avner Amiel, Community Organizing in the Year 2000, Hebrew, unpublished, 1992. 28 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alice_Shalvi 29 Jim Torczyner Letter to Rafi Shitrit, April 25, 1992. 30 I, by and large, let my field notes tell the story. (Jim Torczyner; Israel; Genesis Development Stage; June 2–July 2, 1992: CONFIDENTIAL FIELD NOTES). 31 Beit Tzefafa was split in half by the 1948 War – with a fence and train tracks running through the town. Villagers would hold wedding ceremonies and other events along the fence to enable both sides to participate. 32 Confidential Field Notes: Op. cit.

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33 Confidential Field Notes: Op. cit. 34 Letter Jim Torczyner to Shraga Sharok, October 20, 1992. 35 Minutes of the Jerusalem Planning Committee, October 18, 1992. In attendance were Avner Amiel; Michael Atlan; Louis Goldberg; Sari Revkin; Alice Shalvi; and Jim Torczyner. 36 Zeav Ben Sira letter to Jim Torczyner, October 27, 1992. 37 The description of what transpired in Beersheba is largely drawn from Kaufman, R. (2009). From “Project Genesis” to “Community Advocacy”: Establishing “Community Advocacy” in Israel 1991–1994. Ben Gurion University, Beersheba: Israel. (Unpublished manuscript). It is augmented with documentation from my files, which describes the parallel processes between AJCS, Genesis Beersheba, and the Municipality. 38 (Field notes: Genesis Beersheba Update: April – June 1993). 39 Jim Torczyner FAX to Carlos Shtiglitz, April 9, 1993. 40 Hadas Maabari Personal Statement May 1993. 41 Tzomet was founded by General Rafael Eitan in 1983 after his retirement from the position of Chief-of-Staff. The party joined Yitzhak Shamir’s government in 1990 and left the coalition in December 1991 in protest of Shamir’s participation in the Madrid Peace Conference and later opposed the Oslo accords. 42 (memo August 3, 1993). 43 Robert Michels, Political Parties, “Introduction” by Seymour Martin Lipset. New Brunswick, NJ: Transaction Publishers, 2009 [1915]. ISBN 978–1–4128–3116–1. 44 (Community Advocacy; Incorporation papers, June 1994). 45 Memo: Amnon Shinar to Maxyne Finkelstein, October 11, 1993. 46 Memo from Dov Bahat, January 23, 1994. 47 (Letter Robert Berger to Jim Torczyner January 13, 1994). 48 Rotem Gonen, “Shirking and Shifting Policies: Uncooperative Political Appointees in Israeli Local Government.” PhD thesis, London School of Economics and Political Science, United Kingdom, 2005. 49 Letter from Avishag Avtubi and Rachel Levy, August 30, 1993. 50 Memo: Maxyne Finkelstein, November 2, 1994. 51 Letter from Lester Lazarus to Barbara Epstein, January 12, 1995. 52 Letter from Stanley K Plotnick and Michael Frankel to Mayor Elect Yaacov Terner, November 26, 1998.

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With funding secure for both Beersheba and Jerusalem and with a clear plan of action to develop an independent, professionally managed, volunteer-driven, and academically linked organization, work on the ground proceeded in earnest. Two powerful, local institutions – one a university – Ben Gurion – and one a municipality – Jerusalem – who understood, valued, and were committed to the establishment of rights-based community practice in Israel would guide and support our initial activities. Over the next two years, Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel would become deeply rooted in Beersheba, Jerusalem, and nationally.

Opening shop In April 1994, the Beersheba steering committee opened shop in Mercaz Gilat – the central square in the Daled neighborhood – across the street from the social welfare office and directly on a bus line. “At the hub of disadvantaged neighborhoods, accessible, central and visible, two connecting storefronts were rented. They were furnished by contributions of used furniture by a Histadrut Health Fund Clinic and Ben Gurion University.”1 With the desert cooler in full operation and with donated furniture and equipment, residents brought chairs from their own homes, as did I. My donation of a second-hand toaster oven maintained a place of fondness in the store for many years. It felt like home. The back of the storefront was directly off the main boulevard. The front joined a row of small storefronts on the perimeter of the square. Its sign – in Hebrew, Russian, Arabic, and English, “Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel” – was visible both from the street and from the square. At first, the storefront was run by Hadas and Michal, and the students. Through outreach and their presence in the community, they gathered up potential volunteers to become storefront advisors. On May 19, 1994, the first course for volunteer advisors was conducted for 24 volunteers who were interested in serving as rights’ advisors at the storefront. The volunteers were trained by the storefront staff and by faculty members of the social work department in the university. On July 18, 1994, a special ceremony was held at the university in their honor; present were representatives

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Crossing boundaries of the board and steering committee, the university, the community, and the families of the graduates. A diploma was presented to each of the graduates. Fourteen volunteers began to work in the storefront.2

In Jerusalem, Kaufman observed how the ideology of joining diverse groups around common concerns was expressed in their choice of location: The Genesis Project in Montreal functioned in a multi-ethnic context and enabled different groups to unite around shared civil rights concerns. In his vision, Torczyner saw how the population of Jerusalem, made up of Jews and Arabs, old timers and new immigrants, Ashkenazim and Sephardim, religious and secular, could provide a fruitful setting for common action for civil rights. Following that vision, he chose to focus the Jerusalem activities in the three low-income neighborhoods: Katamonim, Gilo, and Beit Safafa which are in the same area. The Katamonim was an old neighborhood with a long history of community activity for social change. Social change activities began at the end of the 1960s when the Black Panther movement was active there and continued into the 1980s, when the Ohalim (Tents) movement was established there. The Gilo neighborhood was a much younger neighborhood, established in the early 70s. Both neighborhoods were constituted primarily of immigrants. The immigrants had come to Israel from the Islamic countries in the 1950s, and recent immigrants arrived from the former Soviet Union. Beit Safafa was an Arab neighborhood. These neighborhoods were similar in that they had a high level of poverty, were adjacent, and their residents were Israeli citizens. The concept guiding the choice of location for the project was that Genesis’ operating principles would hopefully enable these groups to unite around the shared goals of achieving their civil rights despite the tensions existing between Jews and Arabs in Jerusalem. (Kaufman p. 24, 25) In October 1993, a storefront was rented at the Patt intersection, centrally located by a small shopping mall. Barbara Epstein assigned three social work students from the Hebrew University to the project, and the director of the Municipality’s Department of Community Work placed the community workers from Patt and Gilo in the project ofces, each in a half-time position. Later, following a visit by the mayor, Mr. Ehud Olmert, together with the Canadian Ambassador to Israel, David Berger, at the project ofces in Jerusalem, it was agreed that the municipality would provide one full-time position to the organization. The Rights Storefront at the Patt intersection officially opened to the public on December 8, 1993. A lawyer began volunteering a month later – running a legal clinic at the storefront. Initial activities consisted of neighborhood outreach and meetings with various organizations: schools, health and welfare agencies, and community centers. Barbara operated the storefront with the assistance of the three social work students who also began outreach work in

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the neighborhoods, with the support of the municipality’s community workers and with a few volunteers that were recruited to the project.3 In the first two months, several hundred persons were reached, volunteer lawyers recruited, legal clinics provided and several resident groups had begun to be organized around lack of financial assistance for heating for eligible elderly persons, non-reimbursement to elderly people by the Histadrut Health Fund for medication purchased, handicapped living in the community without enough support from National Insurance to hire the help they need, returnees from Kuwait to Beit Tzefafa who evidently have no rights whatsoever, and the inability of low-income youth to participate in neighborhood community centers because they lack the necessary funds for tuition.4 The number of volunteers grew rapidly. In June 1995, Community Advocacy reported: Volunteers are the essential service providers. Mostly neighborhood residents themselves, they are trained and supervised by staff to advise other residents about their rights, advocate, if necessary, on their behalf, conduct door-todoor outreach, and help to organize around collective concerns. Through our outreach, public information meetings, publicity and word of mouth, we recruited volunteers in both cities. In Jerusalem, we trained 26 residents and 12 became volunteers for the storefront and the outreach team. In Beersheva, 33 people were trained and 17 became volunteers. A year ago, we had no volunteers. Students and staff were pivotal in providing services . . . Today, volunteers are vital in Community Advocacy’s day-to-day activities and community organizing.5 Volunteers formed the Store Committee and the Community Work Committee. As knowledge of the organizations grew, so did the frequency of visits to the storefronts as well as the diversity of issues confronted. In the past year, Jerusalem’s storefront helped 529 people; in Beersheba 600 residents turned to the storefront. The citizens came for help with problems related to basic needs- housing, health, national insurance, worker rights, education, municipal services, and legal aid. New people who have heard of the organization by word of mouth, publicity or our public information meetings in various community centers continue to come to the storefront for help in accessing their legal rights and entitlements.6 7 Popularizing rights through outreach and direct door-to-door canvassing made the new organization part of the daily life of the community. Through doorknocking, we reach the most isolated and less mobile (seniors and the handicapped) by bringing storefront services to their homes. Additionally,

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Crossing boundaries outreach allows us to sensitize people to their rights and entitlements and teach them to advocate for themselves. In 1994–95, our outreach teams reached a total of 2200 people in Jerusalem and Beersheba.

With the return of Carole Younes from her year at McGill, legal advocacy became integrated in the Jerusalem and Beersheba storefronts. “The clinic, staffed by seven volunteer lawyers, provides legal information and consultation about housing, workers’ rights and civil status.”8

Community organizing Initial organizing activity sprung out of local concerns, and beginning attempts were undertaken to raise national issues – particularly in relation to public housing. In Beersheba, the organization took cautious steps to avoid entanglements with the municipality. The staff identified the potential of store owners and operators as helping to refer customers to the storefront. In June, a meeting was held with 15 owners and operators, at which the participants decided to organize themselves in order to advocate their interests to the municipality. They elected an action committee to “achieve involvement and influence for the Gilat Center renovation process.” The project decided to assist the new group by making its premises and office facilities available. However, they did not participate in their discussions with the municipality – demonstrating the caution the project continued to practice when relating to the municipality.9 Community Advocacy Beersheba directed its organizing efforts toward accessing entitlements for special needs children, single parents, and public housing tenants. The parents group whose children were in special education clarified procedures and parents’ rights during the placement process (both to and from) special education and assisted these parents to ensure that their rights were respected. The single mothers’ group distributed information about single parent’s rights in National Insurance (welfare). As a result, 70 mothers received an additional 700 NIS per month on their stipend – a direct financial benefit of about $175,000 per annum in entitlements for single mothers. Low income parents of school-age children organized to ensure that various schools stop the illegal practice of preventing low-income children from taking part in cultural activities and refusing to give them report cards, because their parents could not afford to pay these non-mandatory fees charged for these activities. Lastly, Amidar (public housing) tenants worked to improve maintenance services from the Amidar Public Housing

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Corporation. Repair work was done in several apartments after neglect of twenty years.10 *** In Jerusalem, Kaufman observed that: Of the many issues in the community and the limited resources of Community Advocacy Jerusalem, the steering committee adopted criteria for issue selection: “The chosen issue must be of general concern; involve several population groups including Arabs and Jews; it must be widely dispersed; and there must be a high chance for the intervention to succeed. At the steering committee meeting of November 28, 1994, new criteria were added: issues which are not dealt with by other organizations or are not within the mandate of any other organization; where the project is the most appropriate organization to deal with the issue; issues where the timing for intervention is appropriate.11 Six groups were formed – around educational fees, public housing, and single parents. “Teens at risk,” for example, concerned the rights of disadvantaged youth to use community facilities. As part of a delinquency prevention program, the municipality subsidized teens. The community centers, however, refused to allow them in. Community Advocacy helped the teens present their case before the deputy mayor and the press. It became clear that the real issue was inaccessibility of community centers to the poor because of high fees. Despite efforts to negotiate, the community centers did not cooperate. The teenagers, their parents and other concerned neighbours met with the Knesset sub-committee on youth where a working group, chaired by MK Benny Temkin was set up with representatives of the welfare and education ministries, the community centers corporation and Community Advocacy to suggest solutions to the problem.12 A second major issue concerned “Health and the Elderly,” which focused on the high price of medicines. Twelve elderly and chronically ill residents of Patt, Katamonim and Gilo organized, with the goal of achieving or raising the subsidies for medicines from Kupat Holim Clalit (the major medical services provider). The group began its activities following numerous requests for assistance, which came to the storefront from elderly residents regarding the high price of medicines. Upon investigating, the group discovered that there in fact existed a mechanism for granting discounts on medicines, but it was not being put into practice. The group distributed a petition that some 200 residents signed, demanding reduction of the price of medicines and operation of the discount

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Crossing boundaries procedure. The group sent letters to Kupat Holim and raised the issue of discounts for medicines, and the lack of knowledge and notification to the public regarding the list of medicines for which discounts were available. An agreement was reached regarding a procedure for discounts, including forms which would be placed in the local clinics for this purpose.13“This was a direct financial benefit of 20 to 100 NIS monthly to citizens. Many people now use this system on their own. Those who have used our storefront to access these discounts have saved $32,000 so far.”14 The group has begun lobbying to include medicines as part of the health coverage provided by law. They were invited to the Knesset to present their case to several Knesset members who plan to raise the issue in Knesset committees.15

In Jerusalem and Beersheva, public housing tenants for “the first time have organized to stand on their rights as tenants.” “They are now preparing, with our lawyers, to go to court to challenge the contract which they are forced to sign with the public housing authority as coercive contracts which compromises their rights as tenants.” Thus in a relatively short time, the methodology had taken root, and communitybased, volunteer-driven, professionally managed, and academically linked rightsbased centers in Jerusalem and Beersheba were engaged in outreach, located in the hearts of the communities they served, organizing around local issues with national import, and recruiting and developing a volunteer membership. Community Advocacy was having a broad impact on the conception of social work, rights, and interdisciplinary practice through professional associations, in academic discourse, and among community residents. *** The election of Yitzhak Rabin and the Labor party in June 1992 brought decisive changes in Israeli-Palestinian and Israeli-Jordanian relationships. The Fafo Institute – an arm of the trade union movement in Norway – hosted secret meetings in Oslo between Israeli and Palestinian negotiators. Out of sight and off the radar, negotiators completed an agreement on August 20, 1993 as to an agenda, a process, and a time frame for resolving all issues between Palestine and Israel. Letters of Mutual Recognition were signed on September 9, 1993. The PLO recognized the State of Israel, and Israel recognized the PLO as “the representative of the Palestinian people.” The agreement, officially titled the Declaration of Principles on Interim Self-Government Arrangements (DOP), was signed on the White House lawn on September 13, 1993. Rabin, Arafat, and Israeli Foreign Minister Shimon Peres were awarded the 1994 Nobel Peace Prize for their efforts. The Oslo Accords “transfers of power and responsibilities” commenced on May 18, 1994, when Prime Minister Rabin implemented the “Jericho first” plan and Israeli forces withdrew from Jericho and Gaza City. A few months later, in July 1994, Yasser Arafat returned from exile to head the Palestinian National Authority.

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A peace treaty between Israel and Jordan – mediated by President Clinton and with support from the Egyptian regime – culminated on October 26, 1994 when Jordan and Israel signed the peace treaty in a festive ceremony held in the Arava valley of Israel, north of Eilat and near the Jordanian border. Israel and Jordan opened their borders in early 1995. Visas were issued at newly constructed Northern (near Beit Shean) and Southern (near Eilat) bordercrossings, allowing tourists, businessmen, and workers to travel between the two countries for the first time. The Allenby border-crossing – the most direct route between Jerusalem and Amman – was open to persons travelling on foreign passports who already had a visa. The Allenby Bridge remains the only crossing for Palestinians from the West Bank and Gaza. *** The famous Rabin–Arafat handshake on the White House lawn sharply split the Israeli public about the future of Israel and the future of a Palestinian state. A portion of the Israeli public believes in “Land of Israel” and the “Greater Israel” movement, which often invokes that the entire land between the Mediterranean and the Jordan River rightfully belonged to the Jewish people as part of a covenant with God thousands of years ago. Those who argue for the nation of Israel speak to the erosion of its national soul brought on by the occupation. Peace was more important than the acquisition of land – particularly if it required occupying an entire population of millions of people. Israel could not survive as a Jewish state and as a democratic state by continuing to occupy Palestinians. Occupation introduces violence into the daily routine of life, and this violence would, as the Israel Prize winner and philosopher Professor Yeshayahu Leibowitz warned in 1968, lead to: A state ruling a hostile population of 1.5 to 2 million foreigners would necessarily become a secret-police state, with all that this implies for education, free speech and democratic institutions. The corruption characteristic of every colonial regime would also prevail in the state of Israel. The administration would suppress Arab insurgency on the one hand and acquire Arab quislings on the other. There is also good reason to fear that the Israel Defense Forces, which has been until now a people’s army, would, as a result of being transformed into an army of occupation, degenerate, and its commanders, who will have become military governors, resemble their colleagues in other nations.16 Polarized Israeli civil and political life left little middle ground. Social justice activists, peace organizations, feminist groups, and Arab organizations rallied behind the peace processes and the Rabin government. Nationalist, religious, right-wing organizations coalesced, some citing extreme rabbinic pronunciations justifying the occupation, the murder of Palestinians, and, ultimately, the murder of the leader of the Israeli government.

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The public sphere became a contest among these groups. I attended Friday afternoon rallies of “Women in Black” – a feminist, anti-occupation, and propeace organization – often to be shouted down and sometimes assaulted by “Women in Green” consisting primarily of women settlers whose website proclaims that We are dedicated to safeguarding our G-d given Biblical homeland. We act out of the belief in the central role of the Land of Israel to the future of the Jewish People “Eretz Yisrael Le’Am Yisrael” “The Land of Israel belongs to the People of Israel” is our motto.17 Most Israelis, however, were cautiously optimistic about the prospects for peace. More than two out of three were in favor of a two-state solution living side by side with mutual recognition and without violence. Many were skeptical and didn’t trust the other, but most were prepared to trust in the process being led by their government. There were similar divisions in Palestinian society. Those supporting a “twostate” solution were prepared to compromise. The PLO – now The Palestinian Authority – had recognized Israel. This recognition came with a price, as militant portions of the Palestinian population opposed recognition of Israel, compromise, or even acceptance of the 1948 United Nations international borders. The militant right – both Israeli and Palestinian – found themselves in the opposition, each benefiting from the violent actions of the other. They engaged in acts of extreme, perverse verbal and physical violence and terrorism to destabilize the tentative steps taken by governments to cross boundaries to frame a different future. This violence directly impacted our work in Jerusalem. On February 25, 1994, an Israeli settler, Baruch Goldstein, opened fire on Palestinian Muslims worshipping at the Cave of the Patriarchs-Ibrahimi Mosque in Hebron, killing 29 and injuring 125. We had engaged in systematic outreach to the Arab community of Beit Tzafafah to utilize our storefront and to become volunteer advocates, and we had recruited a Palestinian social work student to further promote this effort. We were slowly making progress, until the Goldstein massacre. This one event threw back our efforts by at least six months as Palestinians feared for their safety. A year later, a suicide bomber exploded on a bus less than 100 meters from our storefront in Jerusalem. This incident threw back our efforts to encourage Jewish residents to seek common ground with the Palestinian residents in the adjacent Beit Tzafafa neighborhood. Such incidents, whether committed by Jews or Muslims, strike fear and further polarize divisions within both the Palestinian and Israeli communities between those who denounce violence and those who believe it is ethically, if not divinely, justified. Violence is personal. It impacts directly, shockingly, and deeply. It provokes self-defense, fear, anger, retribution, and permeates the environment all Israelis and all Palestinians experience in their daily lives directly – or, if not directly – certainly existentially.

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Driving, for example – always a challenge in Jerusalem – became more nervewracking. Many times, being stuck in a traffic jam with a bus in front of me and a bus on the passenger’s side, I stayed focused, knowing that there was absolutely nothing I could do were a bomb to go off in one of the two buses. We become more intensely aware of potential threats and their impact on our daily sense of well- being. The changed political context presented opportunities for me to test out in practice my core beliefs: that the promotion of peace and the reduction of inequality within and between societies were intrinsically related and that academic institutions had a place in advancing these ideas in theory and practice, and to do so regionally. I imagined the potential of finding academics in Israel, Jordan, and Palestine who shared similar values and who could create together a regional platform to advance them. In the long run, I believe, democratic, participatory societies – no matter how unwieldly – and a social climate that protects the rights of all its members are quintessential components of lasting peace. The link between the twin goals of advancing social justice and advancing peace in conflict zones has deep roots in modern social movements such as the labor movement, the feminist movement, and contemporary expressions in the Occupy movement, the women’s march on Washington, Black Lives Matter, and the thousands of high school students out on the streets demanding safer schools and sensible gun control laws and who continue to advance in ideology and in practice the interconnectedness of peace and justice. Most notably stated by Dr. Martin Luther King, “True peace is not merely the absence of tension; it is the presence of justice” and “There can be no peace without justice, and there can be no justice without peace.”18 I was knowledgeable about Palestine and Jordan but had not traveled in or experienced either firsthand. I thought it best to first test out possibilities in Jordan, where issues were more settled and a peace treaty was signed that opened borders. Israeli tourists were lining up to visit Petra, Mount Nebo, Amman, and Jarish and to enjoy the adjoining Red Sea beaches of Eilat and Aqaba. The peace treaty with Jordan was widely supported within Israel. While the breakthrough at Oslo was unexpected, a peace treaty with Jordan had long been anticipated. In 1987, Israeli Foreign Affairs Minister Shimon Peres and King Hussein tried secretly to arrange a peace agreement in which Israel would concede the West Bank to Jordan. The proposal was not consummated due to Israeli Prime Minister Yitzhak Shamir’s objection. The following year, Jordan abandoned its claim to the West Bank in favor of a peaceful resolution between Israel and the PLO.19 The peace treaty between Israel and Jordan was not as well-received by the Jordanian public at large. At least half the Jordanian population was of Palestinian origin – having become refugees in the 1948 and then in the 1967 conflicts. Many felt abandoned by this agreement. The remaining half of the Jordanian population was of Bedouin, Hashemite origins – fiercely loyal to King Hussein. Jordan provides more democratic freedoms than most countries in the Arab world and permitted limited public demonstrations and expressions of dissent. Trade

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unions and professional associations took the lead in their opposition and banned their members from having any direct relationships with Israelis. Others within Jordan saw the peace treaty as an important step – promising security, stability, and economic progress. The signing of the peace treaty between Israel and Jordan and, more pragmatically, the opening of official border-crossings, provided me with an opportunity to learn about Jordan and check out the feasibility of partnerships in the broad field of social welfare; the idea was vague, but the passion was deep. We had a strong relationship with Ben Gurion University, and its president, Avishay Braverman, was keenly interested in establishing relationships with Jordanian universities. I needed to go there and would arrange to do so within weeks of the border’s official opening in early 1995. I read vociferously about Jordan’s history, demography, economy, and political structure, as well as much as I could about King Hussein, his American born, Princeton-graduate wife, Queen Noor (née Lisa Halaby, daughter of Syrian-American aviator and FAA administrator Jeeb Halaby), and tensions and opportunities facing the kingdom. I was limited by my inability to read Arabic and my limited vocabulary in the language. I did find, however, enough documentation in English about Jordan, particularly about its academic institutions, to move forward. Social work was not an academic discipline in Jordan or in most of the Arab world. Traditional forms of charitable assistance – associated with religious movements or the mosque – provided charitable relief and counseling. Royal societies – The King Hussein Foundation, JOHUD, and the Queen Alia Foundation – were more advanced in their approaches to promoting social development and the rights of women. The royal family took the lead against honor killing, steps ahead of significant segments of the Jordanian population. Governmental and royal institutions as well as international organizations provided financial assistance, child welfare services, orphanages, and the like. Separate educational institutions are run by the government for Jordanians and by UNRWA for Palestinian-Jordanians with refugee status. Youth unemployment is a paramount concern – with more than 30 per cent of young people between the ages of 15–24 unemployed (ILO). According to studies of the Wolfensohn center, these high unemployment rates persist into the 30s – forcing delays in marriage and starting families while living in their parent’s homes. The Brookings Institution described this as a “ticking time bomb.” Throughout the kingdom, literacy rates were very high, and medical care was well-regarded. Founded in 1962, the University of Jordan is the largest and oldest and considered the premier university in Jordan and one of the most prestigious in the Arab world. It has the highest admission averages in the country, employs about 1,400 faculty, and has more than 37,000 enrolled students – 31,855 undergraduates and 5,837 postgraduates. It offers degrees through 20 different colleges and institutes.20 Jordan’s demographic transformation has been dramatic. Overall, the population of Jordan had soared from 449,000 in 1950 to 3,416,000 in 1990. In 2016, the population of Jordan was 9,531,712. In parallel, the capital city, Amman,

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grew disproportionately. In 1950, 108,000 people lived in Amman, fewer than one quarter of the entire population. By 1999, 38 per cent of all Jordanian inhabitants lived in Amman, and by 2015 the percentage rose to 42 per cent with over four million people living in the country’s capital.21 To a significant degree, this population growth was influenced by external events, which brought millions of Palestinians, Iraqis, and most recently Syrians to find refuge in Jordan. In parallel, significant population shifts from rural villages to the urban centers brought young people in search of employment to the cities – often leaving their elderly relatives back home in villages and without the traditional communal safety net. Women in the cities were becoming a significant part of the labor force in the 1990s. Those who suffer the most from this inevitable transformation are those least able to fend for themselves – the elderly left in rural villages, the disabled, women, and particularly single parents – and entire lowincome neighborhoods where population growth has overcrowded inner cities and overtaxed the limited services publicly available. Although there was no academic discipline of social work taught in Jordan, I felt that the timing may be opportune for McGill to offer assistance to the University of Jordan to launch an academic social work program. I felt that high unemployment – particularly among female university graduates – and the demographic transformation in Jordan would bring about the expansion of public services that would increasingly require professional social workers. I understood that this would not just be an academic discipline but held the promise of professionalizing social work practice in the Kingdom – imbued with the values that all people share the same rights and trained in techniques of promoting empowerment. I envisioned this as part of a regional program convened by McGill University, which would include Ben Gurion University and be a platform for peace building. It can be discouraging to advance ideas in practice from an academic base because of the disproportionate ratio of skeptics to doers in academic institutions. I was fortunate to find exceptional resources and support at McGill from its top leadership. I have already written about the support we received from Gretta Chambers, the chancellor of McGill, and Principal David Johnston. In 1994, Bernard J. Shapiro22 was appointed Principal and Vice-Chancellor of McGill – precisely at the time that the Israeli program and partnership with Ben Gurion were taking shape, and the ideas for a partnership with Jordan were just emerging. I would not have gotten very far without the ongoing hands-on support of Bernard Shapiro, Gretta Chambers, and Roger Prichard – vice principal International – supporting the values and programs I was seeking to put in place. When people like Bernard and Gretta lead, work such as mine can flourish. Bernard Shapiro offered wise counsel and the clear support of the university. He remains a member of our advisory board today, as did Gretta Chambers23 until she passed away in 2017. Bernard, the son of Jewish immigrants, has a twin brother who became the president of Princeton at the same time that Bernard was the principal of McGill. The New York Times featured the brothers, who were born in Montreal in 1935. “Their father, Max, had grown up in a small village

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near Warsaw, but left early, seeking work and finally moved to Montreal, where he met Mary, his wife.” “Did I think they were geniuses when they were young?” asked the boys’ mother, Mary Shapiro Kantor. “No.” Over time, both boys pursued academic paths – but not before taking an unusual detour. Shortly after they graduated with honors from McGill, their father died. So, the two took over his stake in Ruby Foo’s, a Chinese restaurant that is legendary in Montreal. “Even my children, who have never put their feet in there because it was gone long before they grew up, have heard of it,” Gretta Chambers told the Times.24 It is, in the long run, relationships among people that influence institutions. With the full support and sage counsel of Bernard and Gretta, McGill University established for itself a new presence on the Middle East scene to serve as a go-between, an interlocutor, and a neutral, respected convener to bring together academic institutions from countries emerging from prolonged conflict to promote the social good. Both Ben Gurion University and the University of Jordan had signed bilateral agreements with McGill in 1993 and wanted to build on their relationships. I was on a one-semester sabbatical as of January 1995. Before leaving Montreal, I asked Gretta and Bernard to use their influence to open doors to the University of Jordan. Gretta had an excellent relationship with Canadian Ambassador Michel de Salaberry, and Bernard wrote a letter to the president of the University of Jordan, Dr. Fawzi Ghareibeh, to introduce my purpose in broad terms. The broad terms were for McGill to convene a “working session” of academics from McGill, Ben Gurion, and the University of Jordan to “develop exchanges and programs to improve social welfare.” I felt we needed to be direct, clear about our intentions, and at the same time be vague enough to allow for a process to grow and for the University of Jordan and Ben Gurion University to have room to find their level of comfort with this idea. Ambiguity can create a safe space within which people and institutions can test the landscape without risk. Presidents of universities in Jordan are appointed by the King, serve at his pleasure, and can be replaced at any time. Following hierarchy both externally toward the palace and internally in the decision-making structure within the University of Jordan is central and administered through rigid bureaucratic rules managed by people who are only accountable vertically. Faculty has no say in the appointment of the president, and, once chosen, the president selects his (there has never been a woman president of a major Jordanian university) own team for the senior administrative vice-presidential positions. Proximity to power depends on who you know, your family, and tribal affiliation – within which there is a meritocracy. Notwithstanding the well-established monarchy in Jordan and the authority bestowed on institutional leaders, complex tribalism impacts interactions and decision making. In addition to differential status between Jordanian Bedouins and Jordanian Palestinians, power depends on one’s tribal affiliation, the family to whom one belongs, and the region from which one comes. The forces of tribalism lead Jordanian decision makers to seek consensus. This ambiguous relationship among hierarchy, tribalism, and consensus takes time for an outsider to understand and appreciate. Despite strong executive

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authority, change happens slowly. Personal relationships and stature are essential resources. From what I observed, those who lack connections to decision makers often become apathetic, disinterested, and alienated from the institutions they serve. This combination of hierarchy, tribalism, and consensus also produces an aversion to risk-taking. Risk taking is essential to social innovation. Change in Jordan follows a complex stream. Ideas interact and are processed hierarchically, tribally, and bureaucratically, and, in this mix, consensus is achieved and progress is made slowly and cautiously. Experiencing this process felt familiar – reminiscent of my experience learning to play the oud. To the unsophisticated Western ear, Arabic music may appear to be repetitive and monotonous, but it is not. Rather, it is complex and sophisticated. It follows a different path. It does not utilize chords, and musical themes are explored deeply and persistently before moving on to a different theme. I took oud lessons for two years when I lived in Jerusalem in the 1960s, and, although my mastery of this instrument was limited, the process of musical exploration and linkages helped me years later to understand the process of decision making in Jordan. On April 8, 1995, President Gharabeih sent me an official invitation.

Professor Jim Torczyner School of Social Work McGill University James Administration Building 845 Sherbrooke Street West Montreal, PQ Canada H3A 2TS

Date: April 8, 1995

Dear Professor Torczyner, Professor Bernard J. Shapiro has informed me that you shall, henceforth, be in charge of pursuing proposals for linking the Social Work at McGill University with the University of Jordan. It gives me pleasure to extend to you an invitation to visit the University of Jordan, in the course of this year, to elaborate discussions on this matter, and to give you first-hand information about the University of Jordan and the programmes it is offering at the various levels. I look forward to hearing from you as to when you can materialise this visit to our University, and until then, wish you all the best. Sincerely yours, Fawzi Gharaibeh President

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Within weeks of the opening of the border, I made my first of more than 200 crossings to Jordan I would undertake over the next 25 years. In advance, I had several phone conversations with Dr. Mohammad Maqusi, the vice president academic at the University of Jordan – to discuss the idea and schedule meetings. With an ofcial letter of invitation from the president and with my visa in hand, I was ready to go. I got into my rented car. It was April 22, 1995 and unusually hot for this time of year in Jerusalem. I headed toward the Allenby Bridge, driving through the Judean desert and past the ancient city of Jericho. The Allenby crossing lies about 10 miles east of Jericho, near the point where the Jordan River narrows to a trickle down to the Dead Sea. The Allenby Bridge, named after British General Edmund Allenby, who captured Jerusalem from the Ottoman Empire in 1917, is no wider than 30 feet and connects Jerusalem and Jordan via the West bank. It is the lowest place on earth, often the hottest, and arguably one of the most desolate. I had no complaints. Driving along in my air-conditioned Hertz rent-a-car, I left Jerusalem around midday. An hour later, I was in Jericho. Turning east at the main square, I proceeded through Jericho and made my way toward the Allenby Bridge. I arrived at the Israeli checkpoint. I rolled down my window and presented my official visa. A young Israeli soldier carrying a submachine gun approached my car. He leaned over, examined my visa, and said: “You can come across, but the car can’t.” “But what do you mean. I am an official visitor on university business. I have to go on to Amman, and that’s two hours away.” “Yes, I know”, said the soldier. “But, you see, the peace agreement allows for you to come over, but not the car. There’s no agreement yet about cars. I’m sorry, but you can’t take it across.” Scratching my bald, sunburned head, I got out of the car and approached the soldier. I sized him up. Younger than my son, I thought, probably a university student doing his reserve duty. I’ve been thinking about this problem of mine – with the car. You say that I can’t take it across, but I must cross over the border now as I have important meetings in Amman. What about if I leave the car here on the side of the road on my responsibility, and I’ll be back to pick it up in three days? “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow that. This is a military zone; not a parking lot.” “A military zone!” I exclaimed, getting annoyed while sweating profusely – wearing a suit in 110-degree heat. “There’s nothing here. There’s nothing to guard.” “I’m sorry, those are the rules. We are not allowed to guard cars, only borders”. I felt I would die of heatstroke, right here at the end of the earth. My fate, a 50-year-old professor, human rights activist, dies of heat stroke in a suit while arguing with an 18-year-old with zits and a sub-machine gun about leaving a rented car. I crossed the road and wandered down about 10 feet. Now, I have entered Palestine. I approached the checkpoint and greeted a young man in uniform also

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carrying a sub-machine gun and looking remarkably like his Israeli cousin across the road. “Hello, hello. I am a Professor from Canada and I have important meetings in Jordan. May I leave my car here on the side of the road across from your checkpoint?” “Is that a Jewish car?” the soldier asked. “Well actually, it’s probably Catholic. It is a Fiat, from Italy,” I replied. “Are those Israeli license plates?” “Yes, indeed they are sir. But . . . I am Canadian, and I need to leave my car somewhere so I can continue on to Amman. Might I leave it here for a few days?” “If the Jews won’t guard their own car, we the protectors of the Palestinian people will never, ever guard a Jewish car.” Each never was louder and more emphatic. Determination rang from every syllable. Yes, this is the Middle East, I thought. Cars have religion. My tiny rented Fiat Uno was Jewish and couldn’t be parked here in the middle of a military zone guarded by soldiers whose task was to turn away stray automobiles. Feeling despair, I got into my car, turned on the air conditioner, and turned around. “What does one do?” I thought out loud. “I have to cross over to Jordan, they allow people but not automobiles, and there is no place to leave a car?” Driving back toward Jerusalem, I came upon the central Palestinian bus depot in Jericho, and, right next to it, there was a very large, fenced-in, protected parking lot – the size of two football fields. I peered through the barbed wire fence, and I saw many cars: white license plates from the Gaza strip, blue ones from the territories, green ones from Palestine, but no yellow ones from Israel. I realized that my car would be the only one among the hundreds parked in that lot that had a yellow license plate. I figured it was worth a try. I drove up to the guard at the entrance to the parking lot and rolled down my window. Hello sir! I know that this is an Israeli car. Worse! It’s Hertz which makes it an Ashkenazi, Jewish car, but I am Canadian. I have important business in Amman. Might I park here and pick it up in a few days? “No problem”, said the guard, park it over there – between the others.” Now, that was easy, I thought. There is progress in the Middle East. I parked my car, took a cab to the Allenby Bridge, crossed over, grabbed another cab, and made my way to Amman. The drive to Amman felt uncannily familiar. It was identical to the drive from Allenby to Jerusalem – through the desert and up the hills. An aerial view of the topography from Amman down to the Dead Sea and up again to Jerusalem reveals a natural symmetry – with waterfalls to the south fed from northern rivers and streams and emptying into the Dead Sea. Its beauty is spectacular. I found Amman accessible, safe, with an interesting mix of Jordanians, Westerners, and Arabs from the Gulf. With a Christian population of about five per cent, Amman and Jordan are tolerant, allow the sale of alcohol, and permit women to engage freely in all aspects of society. The hotel was comfortable. I went over my

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notes, went to sleep, and woke up early to be picked up by President Gharabeih’s driver. The drive to the campus, located in Western Amman, passed through prosperous neighborhoods. The city is built on seven hills, and there are seven circles that mark the main intersections through the city. Eastern, older Amman is poorer. At the very bottom of these hills is ancient Amman, with a Roman amphitheater built at the time the city was called Philadelphia. The University of Jordan campus itself is large and beautiful – with modern buildings, many trees and green spaces, and bustling with students. I was ushered into President Gharabeih’s spacious and elegant office. We exchanged a few pleasantries and agreed that I would see him at the end of my visit. I then met with Vice-President Maqusi, an engineer by training, quick, intense, practical, focused, and task-oriented, with a quick wit and a wry, Middle Eastern sense of humor. Being of Palestinian origins, he had strong views about Israel, as well as about the status of Palestinians in Jordan. This was my first opportunity to explain face-to-face my academic interests in law, social work, and demography. I described MCHRAT and what it does, Project Genesis, and our overall approach regarding the interaction between citizens and the state. I explained that our primary interests were in assisting disadvantaged citizens to make better use of services and entitlements made available to them by the state and in assisting citizens to work together to improve their social conditions. I described my interests in the region, my affiliation with Ben Gurion University, and the two teaching centers established in Israel. I explained that McGill is very supportive of this initiative, has a firm reputation in supporting this kind of work and in promoting links in a diverse environment – being an English-minority institution in a majority-French society. Dr. Maqusi pointed out that there was no science and technology agreement yet between Israel and Jordan. Even if there were, he added, there is a long history of conflict in the region, and such a process as I proposed required sensitivity to the feelings, beliefs, and sensibilities of those concerned. Even though there was a peace agreement, there was longstanding distrust and antagonism. He said some people would be openly for what I was proposing, some absolutely against, and most would be very cautious. Social development is tied to issues of culture and religion. He knew that there was an Arab culture but told me he wasn’t certain what or if there was an Israeli culture. Rather, it may be transplanted Western beliefs on a region with a deep culture. I told him that this suggestion that Zionism is a transplanted Western political imposition on the region ignores the reality that Zionism is a deeply rooted ideology and belief that is inherent to the Middle East and to the Jewish people as well as being a politically organized movement with its sources in late-19th-century Europe. There are both justice and injustice on both sides – deeply rooted in this prolonged conflict. Dr. Maqusi observed that the resolution of conflicts in the world takes time. I agreed with him and underscored that my work and that of the university could not be political. Rather, my ambitions were far more modest. If universities in the region could begin to play a role in social development and preparing and

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educating more competent citizens and practitioners, we would have achieved a great deal. I stressed that I respected the sensitivity of social development issues and that this was why I had not articulated a clearly defined agenda. Rather, I wanted to bring the appropriate representatives from Jordan as well as counterparts from Ben Gurion to develop an agenda at a series of planning meetings in the fall. Dr. Maqusi suggested a parallel process. McGill, by invitation of the principal, could invite a group of academics from the University of Jordan to discuss and develop a framework and agenda for future collaborative work. Perhaps by then an agreement would have been signed between Israel and Jordan regarding education and technology, and we could proceed more quickly. He suggested that it could be possible for these meetings to take place at the same time as meetings that Ben Gurion faculty were having at McGill, and perhaps there might be some overlap. The invitation should come from the principal of McGill. I asked him if he would like to attend, and he said he would be interested. This was a good meeting. We agreed I would write up a draft of our approach and would visit again soon. Given the range of passionate feeling and opinion about partnerships with Israeli institutions, the overall caution in Jordanian society, and the volatile political environment, I understood that this process would require a lot of small steps and a great deal of face-to-face meetings. These were not just issues of intellectual merit but were issues infused by history. I was asking people and their institutions to step beyond their histories, envision a different future, and find a safe space through McGill to test them out. The experience of Israeli-Egyptian academic programs following their peace treaty was neither encouraging nor long lasting. A lot of money was put on the table to promote Israeli–Egyptian academic cooperation, and there were a lot of agendas, interests, and styles that often clashed. The outcomes were neither significant nor long-lasting, and there is much to learn from these experiences. Israeli and Arab academic contact, however, was not infrequent but rarely took place formally. Israeli and Arab academics often studied at the same universities, served on the same faculties, met at international meetings, participated on boards of scientific societies, and interned at the same North American hospitals. So, there was established groundwork that distinguished between global academic interactions and specific institutional programs between Israeli and Arab Universities. My thoughts were that McGill could create and fill this space between normal academic interactions and direct programs. After meeting many academics and several deans during my stay, I had a closing meeting with President Fawzi Gharabeih, who impressed me as a thoughtful and wise leader – wishing to move his university forward, particularly through building partnerships with well-recognized universities abroad. He was in favor of opening academic relationships with Israeli universities and saw many synergies but needed to approach this cautiously. Notwithstanding his broad authority to introduce policies as he saw fit, he would approach change one step at a time. I shared with him the synergy I believed could be found between the University of Jordan and Ben Gurion – both universities were established around the same time, both have highly regarded medical schools, and Fawzi and Avishay share

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similar backgrounds and worldviews. Educated at major American universities in the fields of management and economics, I encouraged them to meet and offered to ask the Canadian ambassador in Amman to host them. Fawzi’s response was incisive. Look, a Jordanian institution is not going to rush into a partnership with an Israeli one given past history and the lack of agreements. But you are already doing something for Israel. Do something for Jordan in the same field of social work, and then, trust me, over time, the two programs will come together naturally. I said, “That’s really interesting. I am in it for the peace building, and you are asking me to trust you. So of course, you are right. Let’s figure out how we do this.” I agreed to write up a revised approach and return to Amman within the next few weeks. Fawzi Gharabeih called his driver to drive me the 45 minutes back to the Allenby Bridge. Before leaving, I shared with him my experience with the rented car in coming over. Fawzi looked at me with shock and horror. His secretary said: “You will be lucky if you have your tires when you get back.” His assistant quipped “Tires, they got too many – they burn them – but the radio, they’ll take.” The driver said, “If that’s all, you are lucky. Most likely, you’ll find your car intact, but it will have a big bomb in it. That’s for sure.” The driver dropped me off at the bridge, and I made my way back across the Jordan River. I took a cab to the parking lot and was pleased to see my car – seemingly with all its parts. Two things, however, worried me. First, there was not another car within 100 yards of mine. Second, the cab driver refused to drive me into the parking lot or too close to my car. I got out of the cab, gathered up my bags, and in the midday sun, shuffled my way into the parking lot. “Maybe there is a bomb in it,” I thought. “How would I check? How do you tell?” I look under the car, nothing. “Ah! I’ll check under the hood. But, before I do, remember what my mother always told me – “Don’t get the suit dirty!” I stripped down to shorts, my middleaged pot glistening with sweat in the 110-degree Jericho sun. I open the hood . . . nothing. Maybe it’s alright. Standing outside the car, I stuck my hand through the open window, and put the key in the ignition. I stretched away from the car as far as possible, closed my eyes, and turned the key thinking “Maybe it’s a small bomb and I’ll only lose a finger or a hand!” The car starts. “Aha! Maybe it’s a delayed bomb!” I walk away about 100 yards carrying my suit. I wait. Two minutes . . . three . . . five . . . nothing happens. “Maybe, it’s alright,” I thought. I got in the car and drove toward the gate. A guard approached me. I realized that it was not the same one as a few days ago.

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“Who are you?” he queried with thick arms crossed over his chest. Well sir! Three days ago, there was another guard here, and he said it was alright for me to park my car here. You see, I’m Canadian and I needed to go over to Jordan for a few days and I had no place else to leave my car. “Thank God” he said, his face visibly relieved. I saw this rented car with yellow plates, and I was sure some right-wing Jewish extremists put it here – with a bomb in it! So, I had all the other cars moved away from it, and I am waiting for the bomb squad to inspect! I drove through the gates realizing that building bridges and crossing boundaries is a very complicated business – for cars, for people, and for the gatekeepers – be they those standing in the Jericho sun or those seeking to rearrange the contours of institutional relationships. *** I drove to Jerusalem without turning on the radio (who knew, I thought, perhaps if there were a bomb it could be triggered by the radio!), unpacked, and sat down to process the thoughts and concerns I had heard over the past several days. It was a good visit. There was an openness to me, to the idea, and a keen interest in building partnerships with McGill. I had gained insight from the Jordanians I’d met and had absorbed their different perceptions of Israel. Moving ahead required trust and benefits. It was not difficult to think of academic benefits for the University of Jordan and for McGill. To develop a program that also included Israel, however, required building trust. As President Gharabeih wisely suggested: treat each partner equally and trust in the process. I pitched a discussion paper at a level of generality and ambiguity that would ensure each partner could find and define their comfort zone and circulated it among Jordanian, Israeli, and Canadian partners. Titled, “Proposal for a collaborative approach to emerging themes in social development: McGill University, Ben Gurion University and The University of Jordan,” it set out five objectives: 1

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To promote and develop intellectual leadership in the understanding of broad social welfare issues which modern states such as Canada, Israel and Jordan address in seeking to advance social development. To promote interdisciplinary and interuniversity research and exchange relationships regarding the unique dimensions of culture and ideology that shape approaches to social development and social policy in Canada, Jordan and Israel. To promote understanding of the role of nongovernmental organizations regarding social policy formulation and social service delivery in each of these countries.

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To promote interuniversity research and exchanges regarding practice techniques and methods of social service delivery. (Law, social work, community organization, urban planning etc.). To assist in the development of teaching centers to train practitioners and students from McGill University, Ben Gurion University and the University of Jordan in methods of practice which promote professional excellence in social development and the delivery of social services.

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I knew that for anything to gain traction, it would require political support. I asked Ambassador de Salaberry and President Fawzi Gharabeih to mention the McGill initiative to Her Majesty Queen Noor and assist in obtaining a meeting once we had a clear program we were putting forward. I wrote Shimon Peres – then the foreign minister of Israel – and he gave me an appointment to meet him at his ofce in Jerusalem. The Foreign Ministry was housed at the time in a series of bungalows and barracks, which were more reminiscent of a summer camp than an important government ministry. The relaxed and informal atmosphere would be transformed when the new Foreign Ministry building was completed in 2002. Minister Peres’ historic stature is well recognized, and he was certainly attending to issues and events of far greater significance than my fledgling efforts in Jordan. He gave me a half hour of his time anyway, because, he noted, that he and my first cousin Zeav Tur-Sinai were in the founding group of Kibbutz Alumot. Mr. Peres recommended that I meet with Israeli ambassador Shimon Shamir on my next visit to Jordan. He thought that McGill was an excellent convener of these efforts and provided the necessary space and cover for Jordanian and Israeli academics to interact and meet. I very much appreciated the opportunity to discuss my approach, receive his wise counsel, and obtain his blessings, which would help me within the Israeli Foreign Ministry and in opening doors abroad. I was ready for my second trip to Jordan.25 I would, however, take a cab from Jerusalem to the Bridge. The timing for my June 1995 visit was not opportune, as it came following a downturn in relations between Israel and Jordan and an escalation in Jordanian public opinion against normalizing relationships. The Israeli government’s initial decision to expropriate Arab lands in Jerusalem intensified distrust. A previously banned public, political meeting, which, reportedly, was to attract 600 delegates from across Jordan opposed to the peace treaty, was rescheduled with the permission of the King. The event was scheduled for May 29th in an auditorium located literally at the doorstep of the University of Jordan. Following the Israeli government’s decision rescinding the expropriation, the Jordanian government again cancelled the planned rally – hours before it was scheduled to take place. Ambassador Shamir, a professor of Middle Eastern studies at Tel Aviv University, had only recently taken up his position in Jordan. His temporary official residence and office was on a floor of the Forte Grande Hotel. He warned me of the lack of success in a variety of proposed collaborative programs in a range of fields (medicine, agriculture, science). The Israeli position – be it on academic or political levels – is unequivocally supportive of all such initiatives including this one. Ambassador Shamir suggested that developing direct relationships between McGill and the University of Jordan may be a prerequisite for a future trilateral

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relationship. He thought that developing informal relationships among McGill, Jordanian, and Israeli colleagues first, without needing to commit institutions formally, may prove to be more successful. I had a fascinating, in-depth meeting with Professor Mohammad Sartawi, Dean of religious studies (Shar’ia). He described in detail the Muslim philosophical approach and practices regarding social welfare and communal responsibility. He welcomed my initiative. He explained his angst about not being able to visit Jerusalem and the religious importance and significance of Jerusalem for him. Poignantly, he showed me his keychain with the Al-Aqsa mosque on it and said this is his closest connection to this place, which is so important to him. He remarked about the similarity of Jewish and Muslim traditions both about social welfare and assisting persons not from their faith and hoped progress could be made here. Mohammad Maqusi had just traveled with Crown Prince Hassan to Tokyo. He was as pleased to see me as I was to see him. He suggested that we concretely develop the McGill–University of Jordan link first and proceed cautiously with Ben Gurion. His point was that, in the area of social development, McGill now has a link with BGU. A symmetrical relationship could be established by first developing a similar teaching center with the University of Jordan. With this development and the passage of time, relationships would naturally enlarge. I said that I supported this but would like/need some plan as to how this could evolve into a trilateral relationship including Israel and BGU. It could be through parallel meetings or through MCHRAT, where a number of universities are represented in addition to McGill and Ben Gurion – thus diluting the intensity and officiality of the contact. Dr. Maqusi expressed understanding and promised to think it over. I was received enthusiastically and graciously. I was Dr. Maqusi’s guest at the faculty club for lunch, along with many faculty members. I gave a seminar on rights-based practice, which generated a lively discussion and support for the idea of a practice-teaching center at the University of Jordan. The atmosphere was friendly and positive. Mohammad had his driver take me all the way to the Allenby Bridge as a personal gesture of his friendship. The driver took me through a road (or series of goat, camel, and donkey trails) that passed through his home village. He explained that most Jordanians are unaware of this road. I believed him. It was an incredibly beautiful journey – and one which, because of the driving conditions, I feared I may never get to talk about. From my perspective, I wrote at the time It is very difficult to be “holding the tail” of a very complex and rapidly evolving process. Political events influence perceptions and willingness to pursue other forms of relationships and these, in turn, influence political events. The absence of an official higher education agreement between Israel and Jordan, a fairly broad feeling that Jordan and the Palestinians have yet to see the dividends from the peace treaty, a divided Israeli public whose mood is rapidly affected by acts of terror, concerns about progress on Palestinian autonomy and the Peace Process all had a very direct influence on the pace and willingness of Jordanian academics to pursue collaborative relationships with Israeli universities. Compound these issues with the sensitivity of culture, religion

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I understood the complexity and ambivalence of embarking on a trilateral relationship of Canada–Jordan–Israel. This ambivalence is both a reflection of a half-century of conflict and lack of direct contact between the two people, as well as an aversion to risk taking. For Jordan, therefore, to enter such programmatic relationships, no matter how they were formulated or where they would take place or who would convene them, the potential benefits for the University of Jordan must be enough to overcome opposition and outweigh this aversion to risk taking. The idea of parallel groups at McGill was workable, but the purpose for Jordan and what the University of Jordan would gain from this had to be more explicit, clear, and advantageous. Ambiguity creates a safe space to explore relationships but is not useful unless the inducements to explore the safe space are clear. I would need to rethink my approach. I redrafted the April Discussion Paper in the form of a letter to Dr. Maqusi.

Dear Dr. Maqusi,

June 3, 1995

As you know, my original purpose was to explore the possibility of facilitating the establishment of a three-way dialogue between McGill, University of Jordan and Ben Gurion University in order to identify a potential collaborative agenda in the field of social development. Each visit has broadened my understanding of the complexity and opportunity inherent in this process. I can visualize the great contributions such collaboration, if sensitively and respectfully handled, can produce for the

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development, stature and resources of the entire region and each of our three universities. Each of us can gain from and contribute to each other in a way that the whole will be much greater than the sum of its parts. Done in the right way and with your leadership, achievements can be created among us, which, over the course of time, will be known and respected the world over. How might we achieve this and set ourselves along a path where we all feel comfortable and which gives each of the participants what they seek without imposing on any of them? My discussions with you and University of Jordan faculty members clarified what the University of Jordan might hope to achieve from this process. The University of Jordan would very much like to expand its relationship with McGill and do so in the area of social development. A teaching center applicable to Jordan and resembling Project Genesis was discussed as a possibility as well as participation on the advisory board of MCHRAT, involvement in meetings, exchange of students and faculty etc. Given this perspective, I suggest that a Jordanian delegation visit McGill to explore possible joint activities in the broad field of social development. That specific attention be focused on the applicability of the Genesis interdisciplinary model of practice in order to explore the feasibility and desirability of adapting it to the Jordanian context as a Teaching Centre of the University of Jordan in collaboration with McGill University and MCHRAT. This would include participation at the MCHRAT semi-annual board meeting scheduled for October 95 and which will feature presentations from Barbara Epstein – Executive director Community Advocacy/ Genesis Israel and Alice Herscovitch – Executive Director Project Genesis. Professor Neil Gilbert, MCHRAT scholar in residence would lead a seminar with us and present a distinguished public lecture sponsored by The Sir Edward Beatty Memorial Fund on “the Changing Nature of Public Entitlements around the world and the Implications for Human Rights Advocacy Practice.”27

*** Community Advocacy/Singur Kehilati (in Hebrew) had much to report in 1995. More than 5,000 citizens were assisted to access benefits by 60 volunteers and staff. Genesis Israel/Singur Kehilati in Jerusalem formed a coalition of seniors, including Arabs and Jews from the former Soviet Union, Moroccans, and nativeborn people and persuaded the Social Lobby of the Knesset to give seniors a 50 per cent discount on the spiraling costs of medicine. In Beersheba, Community Advocacy put the issue of public housing squarely on the national agenda. In Beersheba the public housing tenants’ group we organized, representing 6000 public housing tenants had a series of meetings with officials, including a tour of dilapidated apartments with the Director General of Amidar

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Crossing boundaries (Public Housing Corporation) and a Knesset member. These efforts resulted in a meeting with the Housing Minister and a promise to bring up to standard all substandard apartments in Beersheba (some 300).28 In addition, Community Advocacy filed a lawsuit against Amidar challenging the standard lease agreement which all Amidar residents were required to sign before an apartment is available for them to inspect. It is impossible for them to determine the condition of their apartment before signing their contract. If repairs are needed the tenant becomes responsible for them. The contract also releases the housing company from basic responsibilities for upkeep and maintenance including the provision of hot water and sealed windows.29

The Israeli courts granted Community Advocacy standing to represent all public housing tenants in a suit challenging discriminatory aspects of Israeli public housing policy. Community Advocacy was gaining wide recognition and had direct links with several Israeli social work and law faculties and participated in numerous professional symposiums designed to address issues of social rights such as a full-day program sponsored by the Association for Civil Rights in Israel, where I presented alongside Hebrew University Law Professor Ruth Gavison. Community Advocacy received a prestigious two-year demonstration grant from The National Insurance Institute (Bituach Leumi) to evaluate its storefront advocacy approach – the first time a voluntary organization was funded by them. At the time, the Knesset deliberated adopting a Charter of Rights as the supreme, “basic” law of the land. Contentious politics made it impossible for Israeli lawmakers to agree on a charter as a whole. Instead, they focused on the adoption of individual clauses, which together would become the “basic” law. Attention was focused on individual rights. The right to personal dignity became the first “Basic Law” to be adopted. We lit a torch around the idea of social, collective rights such as the rights to an adequate income and shelter being a precondition in order to exercise the right to personal dignity. Barbara Epstein developed a much broader funding base, and Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel was becoming less reliant on the central funding of the Montreal Jewish Community. In 1994, the total Community Advocacy Budget was $235,000 with $100,000 coming from the Montreal Federation, $85,000 from Israeli sources, and $50,000 from a foundation. By the end of 1995, the budget had grown to $390,000. While the Montreal Federation contribution remained at $100,000, its percentage contribution to the total budget dropped from close to 50 per cent to about 25 per cent. Israeli sources of income rose by $100,000 to $185,000 in 1995, and contributions from foundations doubled and reached $105,000. Inviting Barbara Epstein to speak at McGill, to then address Jewish community leaders, and then to meet with individual donors provided an important boost to

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CA’s recognition and support in Montreal. These events, highlighting Barbara and her work, strengthened a direct relationship between her and the Montreal Federation. Community leaders got to know and hear directly from Barbara – the person realizing this vision on the ground in Israel, who spoke with authenticity. *** In late July, Mohammad Maqusi wrote me that his fall schedule had changed, and he would be unable to travel to North America during the fall semester. He suggested sending delegates – Professor Amal Farhan, and Farah Daghestani, the daughter of Her Royal Highness Princess Basma, responsible for the Zenid organization, which focuses on the empowerment of women. *** I will never forget where I was when I heard the news bulletin on November 4, 1995. Prime Minister Yitzchak Rabin was assassinated at a peace rally in Tel Aviv. Rabin was disparaged by right-wing conservatives and Likud leaders who perceived the Oslo peace process as an attempt to forfeit the occupied territories. National religious conservatives and Likud party leaders believed that withdrawing from any “Jewish” land was heresy. Rallies became increasingly extreme in tone. Likud leader Benjamin Netanyahu accused Rabin’s government of being “removed from Jewish tradition .  .  . and Jewish values.” Netanyahu addressed protesters of the Oslo movement at rallies where posters portrayed Rabin in a Nazi SS uniform or being the target in the crosshairs of a sniper.30 The assassin, Yigal Amir, a 25-year-old far-right law student, felt that the signing of the Oslo accords would lead to an Israeli withdrawal from the West Bank, which would deny Jews their “biblical heritage which they had reclaimed by establishing settlements.” Amir believed that Rabin was a “rodef ” – a religious term meaning a “pursuer” who endangered Jewish lives – and believed he would be justified to “remove” Rabin as a threat to Jews in the territories. The assassination of Rabin was a shock to the Israeli public and to the world. Rallies and memorials took place near Kings of Israel Square – later renamed Rabin Square in his honor – as well as near Rabin’s home, the Knesset building, and the home of the assassin. The funeral of Rabin took place on November 6, 1995 at the Mount Herzl cemetery in Jerusalem. Hundreds of world leaders, including about 80 heads of state and government, attended the funeral. *** The December MCHRAT meetings in Montreal took place, as scheduled, a full month after the Rabin assassination. Amal Farhan and Farah Daghestani from Jordan could not attend due to a variety of administrative issues at home and, perhaps, I felt, due to the discomfort of attending alongside Israelis so soon after this tragedy. Professor Gilbert’s Beatty Lecture was a key McGill event for social policy

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thinkers, and Community Advocacy and Barbara Epstein gained wide exposure in the Montreal Jewish community, the grassroots organizing community, and the media. The three-day forum generated excitement. The mayor of Montreal, Pierre Bourque, announced that he would be visiting Israel in June 1996 and would visit Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel and bring greetings from Project Genesis in Montreal. The mayor’s program was being organized by Nancy Rosenfeld, former director of planning at Federation and well-known and respected in the Jewish community. The mayor’s entourage would include political leaders and Montreal Jewish communal leaders, and he would be received at Community Advocacy by the mayor of Jerusalem, Ehud Olmert. *** One week after the MCHRAT meetings, I flew to the Middle East for three weeks to try to “thread the needle.” Both Israel and Jordan were interested in academicpractice linkages. I would look for ideas that would provide something to Jordan and to Israel that they each needed and wanted and could be contextualized in the same program and allow for interaction between them but would obligate neither to any formal institutional relationship with the other. The broad umbrella of community-based, academically linked, professionally managed and volunteerdriven rights-based centers provided a framework, and my site visits to the Queen Alia Foundation, and Zenid – an important royal organization dedicated to the empowerment of women – gave texture to the conversations. Together, we shaped a proposal to establish a rights-based center that would focus on the empowerment of women and would be developed jointly by the University of Jordan, the Queen Alia foundation, and MCHRAT. This feminist perspective adopted in our rights-based work in Jordan in 1995 recognized that Jordan was undergoing a process of transformation from a traditional society to a modern, more democratic state. Forces of modernization are evidenced on a political level, as many democratic reforms have been introduced; educationally, through a proliferation of advanced academic institutions; socially through significant advancements made by women; and with the economic expectation of a significant “peace dividend”. There is a dual need to both protect traditional social values and to facilitate a process whereby women benefit from the emerging economic and social regional relationships. There are increasing attempts to join training in social rights with more traditional forms of community and economic development for women. The rights-based model provides tools for these efforts.31 From discussions about the linkage of the proposed center to an academic degree program, a consensus emerged to establish an academic social work program. The University of Jordan established a planning committee, which included representation from associated academic departments and representatives from government and nongovernmental organizations. Under the chairmanship of Dr.

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Mohammad Maqusi, a mission statement and raison d’être were developed, and the Jordanian minister of planning sent an official endorsement to the Canadian ambassador. McGill formed a parallel committee, which included Gretta Chambers, Bill Rowe, the director of the School of Social Work, Associate Director Estelle Hopmeyer, Nicky Aumond, myself, and Jean Panet Raymond – the director of the Université de Montreal school of social work. One of the early findings of both committees was that there were no academic faculty members in Jordan who had a degree in social work, and there were perhaps a handful of practitioners in Jordan with graduate social work degrees obtained abroad. I suggested a variation of the “Vermont” option. When the University of Vermont introduced a social work program in the 1980s, they had no faculty with degrees in social work with whom to initiate it. So, they sent several faculty members with PhDs to McGill (less than 100 miles away) to enroll in the McGill MSW program. Holding PhDs. and with the attainment of their MSWs from McGill, these faculty were then authorized to initiate a social work program at the University of Vermont in conformity with international standards. I suggested we apply the same idea and bring over several Jordanian faculty members to study models of social work practice and to think through and develop a curriculum that would be sensitive to the Jordanian reality, Arabic culture, and Islam. Applying the ideas of the New Israel Fund law fellowship, fellows would spend a full year at McGill taking courses and visiting and experiencing social work organizations in Montreal and in Canada. In their second year, they would return to Jordan and fulfill their research and field work requirements by putting the beginnings of a social work program into practice. The Jordan fellowship program would stand on its own as a bilateral relationship between McGill and The University of Jordan. Having underscored this point, I proposed that in parallel MCHRAT also sponsor several Israeli fellows who would focus on rights-based practice while obtaining their master’s degree in social work. They would spend a year in Montreal studying alongside the Jordanians and sharing an office. No pressure would be put on anyone, but I felt in my gut that if you get the right people who are focusing on a common mission and set of values and throw them together in the same office, they will work it out. We, at MCHRAT, would provide individual assistance and organize activities for the group. Fellows would be selected by the institutional stakeholders in their country – together with McGill. Educational objectives would be formulated by the planning committees in each country. The idea of two, independent bilateral fellowship programs excited the stakeholders in each country as it provided something to each that they needed and wanted. At the same time, the programs would join under a common MCHRAT program. We chose to name the program The McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building – a program of MCHRAT. It enabled interaction between the Jordanians and Israelis but did not require it. What would evolve, I hoped, would evolve naturally – as President Gharabeih had predicted in his first discussion with me.

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With agreement on the principles, we sought funding to inaugurate the fellowship program in September 1997. We proposed that the first two Jordanian fellows participate in graduate seminars regarding the knowledge base, values, and methodologies of social work practice and have opportunities to visit and explore a variety of university social work programs in Canada and a diversity of field settings and methods of practice. In the second year of the academic program, the practicum and research would be carried out in Jordan. One fellow would apply the knowledge gained at McGill to the development of a social work curriculum at the University of Jordan while the second fellow would develop field training and employment opportunities for graduates. At the conclusion of the second year, the postgraduate fellows would have completed requirements for a master’s degree in social work from McGill. *** On May 3, 1996, Gretta Chambers and Daniel Jacoby, Ombudsman for the Province of Quebec, headed a delegation to Israel and Jordan for a travelling symposium titled: “Managing Social Change: Reflections on Diversity, Coexistence and Human Rights.” Over eight days, the group toured the Genesis/Community Advocacy organizations, met with university, professional and organizational colleagues, and presented five papers. The group toured low-income neighborhoods and experienced the reality of our engagement directly and unfiltered. Most memorable was a visit to an unrecognized Bedouin village. Nicky Aumond described it as follows: Particularly moving for all members of the group, was the visit to the village of Abu Kaf, northwest of Beersheba. A Bedouin village of 3,000 residents, Abu Kaf is not officially recognized as a legal settlement and, as a result, is ineligible for basic municipal services such as water, electricity and health & welfare services. The delegation was received in the home of Jazzy and Sara Abu Kaf. Jazzy, a graduate of Ben Gurion, who teaches elementary school in a recognized Bedouin settlement and heads the Abu Kaf village association. The visit was arranged by two young Bedouin women, the first from their villages to attend university. Their early achievements and their ambitions for progressive social change within their tribes and in relation to the wider Middle East context, impressed us deeply.32 On Thursday, June 8, Gretta and I crossed the Jordan River to have dinner with Mohammad Maqusi at the Amman residence of Canadian Ambassador Michel de Salaberry. Gretta was the consummate McGill ambassador to “seal the deal.” Her grace, charm, wit, clarity, empathy, and authenticity, combined with her political intuition, stressed the positive and sidestepped the potentially problematic. Michel de Salaberry was Canadian Ambassador par excellence. He hosted us and was supportive of the efort. By the end of the evening, we had an understanding between two institutions to sign a declaration of cooperation to establish the first academic social work program in Jordan.

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We stayed over at Michel’s official residence. The next morning, Michel drove us around Amman. We parted with much gratitude and good feeling, and Michel dispatched his driver to take us to the Allenby Bridge. By now you know that there always seems to be a story when crossing the Allenby Bridge. This is entirely correct – although only a few such encounters are recorded in this book. On this occasion, the driver dropped us off at the first bridge checkpoint to pay departure tax. I said to Gretta that I would go inside the barracks and take care of it. Gretta sat on a bus stop bench waiting patiently – refined, if not elegantly dressed, holding my suit, which was hung on a single hanger as I only brought the suit for the dinner and saw no need for a suitcase. There was no one in the barracks except for one clerk asleep in his booth. I knocked on the partition and finally roused him. He said. “No speak good English  .  .  . we close the bridge early today.” I asked him why. We would be stranded, and Gretta was returning to Canada the next day. He raised his hands toward the heavens and shrugged his shoulders. I said, “But I am travelling with the Chancellor of McGill, and she is a very important person.” “Shu hada (“what is?” in Arabic) chancellor?” I responded, “It is the president. She is the president of McGill.” “Shu hada McGill?” “Well McGill is the royal family of Canada, like the Jordanian Royal Family and the King and Queen. So, I am travelling with the president of the royal family of Canada. Can you help me? We are just coming from the Canadian ambassador’s residence?” He tells me to wait outside. I return to Gretta, who is sitting on the bench by the bus stop, holding my suit raised on its single hanger, flapping in the desert breeze and utilized by Gretta as a sun screen and to swat away swarms of desert flies which gather at the Allenby Bridge in wide conglomerations. I explain to Gretta what transpired, to which she quipped “so we will either be escorted across the border or to a police station” She was right. A few minutes later, a Mercedes limousine pulled up with the clerk I spoke to now in full uniform and with a driver. They opened the door to this very fancy limo in this barren wasteland and said they were honored to take us to the Israeli side. So, we crossed boundaries and made it back to Jerusalem in time to meet up with the rest of the group. *** Shimon Peres, who became the prime minister upon the assassination of Itzhak Rabin, called for national elections to be held on May 29, 1996. Peres was seeking a broad national mandate to continue the policies of Rabin and was widely expected to succeed. Labor and Peres had a 20 per cent lead in the polls early in 1996. However, a spate of suicide attacks including the Jerusalem Bus 18 massacres and attacks in Ashkelon and the Dizengoff Center, which killed 59 people, severely damaged Peres’ election chances.33 Polls taken in mid-May showed Peres ahead by just four to six per cent. Two days before the election, his lead was down to two per cent.34

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Despite the national trauma of Rabin’s assassination and although many blamed the leaders of the Israeli political right for the incitement that preceded the murder, public opinion shifted because of the suicide bombings and a failed military operation – “Grapes of Wrath” – conducted in Lebanon that caused many casualties among Lebanese civilians. As a result, 50.5 per cent of voters chose Netanyahu on Election Day. A significant number of Israeli Arabs boycotted the elections in protest of the Lebanese casualties. This became an advantage for Netanyahu, as most Arabs would have supported Peres. In addition, Netanyahu got support at the last moment from the Chabad movement. Overnight, this political shift became the new Israeli reality spawning the phrase “went to sleep with Peres, woke up with Netanyahu” and would have a broad impact on the Palestinian–Israeli Peace Process and the region. *** A week later, Montreal Mayor Pierre Bourque arrived on an official visit to Israel. On June 6, accompanied by media, Canadian officials, and the Mayor of Jerusalem, Mayor Bourque visited Community Advocacy in Jerusalem, bringing a gift from Project Genesis in Montreal. On June 7, 1996, following Mayor Bourke’s visit to Community Advocacy in Jerusalem, Gretta Chambers published a nationally syndicated column entitled: “Montreal’s Project Genesis sows seeds of hope in the Mideast.” Gretta described Mayor Bourke’s visit, the roots of Genesis Israel in Montreal, and the plan to bring professional social work to Jordan. Gretta concluded: Normalization of relations, which was not possible before peace moved on to the political agenda, is now being actively sought, carefully still, but with commitment to the long haul on the ground. It is ground already tilled with the hope of peace and sown with the expectation of reaping its benefits. The growing season has been long and productive enough. It must be hoped to discourage even hawks in high places from ruining the crops.35 *** I met with officials at the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) in Ottawa. I expected that our proposal would be greeted with open arms. I was wrong. We were deemed “an unsolicited proposal,” and, indeed, we were. We also were connecting development to peace building for which CIDA did not have a framework or a clear funding envelope. As well, Israel was excluded from CIDA funding because it was not on the list of developing countries eligible for international aid assistance. While fair enough, the policy also had the effect of limiting interactions between CIDA and Israeli officials and framed their interactions within the context of an occupation. We were proposing that in the context of the Middle Eastern conflict, development efforts can succeed when they bring protagonists together and directly connect to peace building issues.

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I was told that funding would not be available as they have no “envelope” from which to fund regional endeavors, would not fund Israelis anyway, and didn’t feel that social work education was a priority for Jordan. Polite but unhelpful, I sensed clear bias against cooperation with Israel. It was convenient to relate to Israel solely as an occupier and thereby avoid the more compelling and complex issues of how development and peace building can be linked. The officials played the referral game and sent me to multiple offices – none of which had any interest in funding this idea. I also played the referral game, as I needed to show that I faithfully went to everyone suggested to me in the Canadian government – even though I was rapidly becoming aware that these would be dead ends. I had proposed a budget of $450,000. The amount of money we requested was inconsequential to CIDA, but I found no willingness from officials to support it. Having tried and failed, I felt that it was time to approach this on a political level. Sheila Finestone, then Minister for Multiculturalism and Citizenship and the leadership of McGill, pushed our proposal politically. Sheila had served on the Montreal Federation committee to determine if it should fund Project Genesis in 1976 and subsequently was President of the Fédération des femmes du Quebec. She ran for Parliament in Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau’s seat upon his retirement and served as an MP and minister until 1999, followed by a term in the Senate of Canada. Sheila was close to the grassroots, Project Genesis was in the heart of her riding, and Sheila became an early and strong supporter of our work in Israel. She became our indispensable champion for Jordan, Palestine, and our Middle East program. Sheila spoke with Minister for International Cooperation Don Boudria, who deemed that it was possible and important to fund the Jordan part of our proposal and that the Canadian government would provide a grant of $250,000 toward this effort. MCHRAT pledged to raise the funds for the Israeli participants. The program was officially launched at McGill on January 20th, 1997. Dr. Maqusi represented the University of Jordan. He and Gretta Chambers signed this declaration of cooperation on behalf of their institutions: DECLARATION OF COOPERATION: SOCIAL WORK EDUCATION MCGILL UNIVERSITY and the UNIVERSITY OF JORDAN Whereas poverty, inequality and social exclusion remain a fundamental threat to peace and security. Whereas, the development of a professional social work program in Jordan can contribute directly to the achievement of three important objectives: the reduction of inequality; the promotion of opportunities for women, and the advancement of peace. Whereas McGill University and the University of Jordan seek to work together to develop the first social work program in Jordan and whereas a structure has been put in place to achieve this through the Montreal Consortium for Human Rights Advocacy Training and the University of Jordan committee to establish a social work program.

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Crossing boundaries McGill University and the University of Jordan formalize their collaboration to develop the first University-conferred degree program in social work in Jordan.

The launch was attended by several hundred people and was covered extensively by the media. Minister Boudria could not attend. He delegated to his senior officials and the officials connected to the Jordan file and asked Sheila Finestone to convey his greetings and read his prepared remarks. The remarks were written by the officials and included the phrase “this is a one-time non-renewable grant for an unsolicited proposal.” Sheila did not like this wording. Instead, she inserted “this is the first grant for this program, and I, and the Canadian government hope you will come back for more.” The officials were miffed. But it was now on record – giving us a basis to apply for further funding. *** Ambassador Michel de Salaberry’s term in Jordan had come to an end. He was succeeded by Mike Molloy, a career immigration official who had overseen the Canadian operation to resettle 60,000 Vietnamese boat people. He then went on to open the Canadian embassy in Syria before being appointed as Canada’s ambassador to Jordan. I was informed that Queen Noor would meet us on May 14, 1997. Along with Mike Molloy, Fawzi Gharabeih, and the newly appointed Vice President Academic Sami Khasawneih, we made a trip to the Royal Palace. Situated on a hill in the center of Amman, the Royal Palace is a complex of exquisite buildings, one of which serves as Her Majesty’s office. We were escorted into her beautifully designed suite of offices. I summarized the meeting in a memo to Nicky Aumond on May 15, 1997: It was interesting how much Queen Noor knew about the program – much more than being a quick read – and how much she genuinely was committed to it. She said that she hopes to continue to “follow the development very closely”. She added that she hoped that Jordanians who get the degrees will return to Jordan and make a commitment. The Queen pointed out about how much she needs competent, professional staff in her own foundation. We spoke about the $60 million the World Bank announced for Jordan to develop a social safety net and how important social work professionals can be in this process. We discussed the survey of the current and potential social work job market in Jordan. We spoke about peace building and the two parallel MCHRAT initiatives – Genesis Israel and University of Jordan social work. She spoke about this program becoming a role model to other Arab countries. I did not ask for a letter or make any specific request. This was both my intuitive sense as well as the advice of Ambassador Molloy and Fawzi Gharaibeh. The contact is there and so is the support, if needed and at the appropriate occasion.”36 ***

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There was one more task I wanted to accomplish before returning to Canada and in advance of the fellows arriving – that President Gharabeih and BGU President Braverman meet. I spoke with President Gharabeih about this immediately following the meeting with the Queen. Mike Molloy offered to have them over for lunch at his residence. He suggested that the luncheon be informal and its main purpose ought to be to create a relaxed atmosphere where natural chemistry could take over. For this reason, Mike suggested and Fawzi and I agreed that there should only be four people at the luncheon: Mike, myself, Avishay and Fawzi. Mike suggested July 1 – Canada Day – as a fitting date for the get-together. I asked Dr. Gharabeih if he might give Avishay a tour of the campus following the luncheon, and he agreed. I returned to Israel and met with Avishay and BGU Vice President External, Zvi Shtauber, a former brigadier general. Logistically, Avishay and I would cross the Allenby Bridge in the morning in a diplomatic car and return in the evening. Zvi Shtauber is a forceful, direct career military officer. He was not pleased with the proposed visit, and it was clear to me that he disparaged the luncheon being orchestrated by a non-Israeli, non-military social work professor. He claimed that the entire meeting had to be handled by a senior professional like himself. He insisted on attending the meeting. I refused. I said to him that I gave my word and I was sticking with it. “If I am not going, then Avishay will not go.” I refused to budge. He asked me what my goals were for the meeting, and I said that the goal was to encourage these two individuals with similar backgrounds and interests to establish a relationship. “You are shooting at a target and you don’t know where it is,” he said. “Excuse me,” I responded. “I have never held a gun in my life. Besides, the goal is to establish relationships – not to shoot at them.” The impasse remained. Avishay decided to go with me. Crossing the Allenby Bridge in a diplomatic vehicle provided me a very different perspective on travel to Jordan. Efficient VIP service and treatment, the delay at the border was no longer than 15 minutes. We arrived at the Canadian Ambassador’s residence and were warmly greeted by Mike and his wife, Jo. Fawzi Gharabeih arrived a few minutes later. Introductions were made and the conversation was easy. Both displayed quick wit and talked about their studies in the United States and the headaches of managing a large university. They talked about the McGill program and how each institution would benefit from it. Almost simultaneously, Avishay and Fawzi said that they hoped the McGill program would further academic cooperation between Israel and Jordan. I looked at Mike. He nodded and we retired to the garden to smoke wonderful Cuban cigars, which were in fine supply at the residence. We then spent a good half hour chasing after and trying to retrieve the Ambassador’s cat, which had disappeared in the residence gardens. The lunch and meeting lasted two hours, at which point Fawzi asked Avishay if he would like a tour of his campus. Avishay and I said our goodbyes and got into the presidential limousine. Avishay and Fawzi sat in the back, and I sat next

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to the driver. It was about a half hour drive to the campus. The intent was to give Avishay a drive-through tour – but without stopping or an official reception – both because of the political sensitivity and because it was getting late and we were returning to Jerusalem that evening. Arriving at the main gate of the campus, I saw a commotion, heard shouting, and smelled smoke. We got closer and I saw some very angry faces covered with keffiyehs stomping on a burning Israeli flag. Apparently, this was carried out by a radical wing of a student organization. They had no idea who was in the presidential limo. I turned to the backseat and could see that Fawzi was upset. He apologized to Avishay and said he had no idea that this was happening. Avishay responded semi-seriously. Believe me I have the same problem. I am never quite sure who will be demonstrating and what cause they are espousing, but for sure, especially on Thursdays, there is always a demonstration on my campus. Seeing this is reassuring. I thought you didn’t have such problems and could just admonish them, and they go home. Fawzi chuckled. “We both studied in the States. Remember LBJ. He said, ‘I’d rather have them in my tent pissing out, then outside my tent pissing in.” The two presidents laughed and shook hands. I looked out the window and saw the demonstrators’ rage and anger on the other side of the glass. There it was for me to see and experience, the two realities and the creative possibilities that arise when we cross boundaries and seek common interest. It was time for me to return to Canada and prepare for the arrival of five Middle Eastern fellows.

Notes 1 March 1995: First Year Summary Activities of Community Advocacy Beersheba March 1994 – February 1995. 2 (Kaufman, Op. cit. p. 18). 3 (Kaufman, Op. cit. p. 25). 4 Genesis in Israel Overview 1994. 5 Community Advocacy: Project Genesis Israel, Highlights:1994–1995, June 1995. 6 Community Advocacy: Project Genesis Israel, Highlights:1994–1995, June 1995. 7 Figure 1–Percentage breakdown of issues dealt with 1994–95. Beersheba

Jerusalem

Housing 24% Municipal Services 12% National Insurance 12% Education 9.5%. Single parents 4.5% Health Fund 4.5% Worker Rights 4.0% Other 29%

Housing 26% Debts 19% Health 18% National Insurance 18% Education 9% Employment 7% Other 2%  

Source: Community Advocacy: Project Genesis Israel; Highlights:1994–1995; June 1995

Crossing boundaries 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22

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24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36

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Community Advocacy: 1994–1995 Highlight Sheet. Kaufman, Op. cit. p. 19. Community Advocacy: In Brief: A Resume of 1994–1995. Kaufman, Op. cit. p. 27. Community Advocacy/Project Genesis Israel 1994/1995 Highlights. Kaufman, Op. cit. p. 27. Community Advocacy/Project Genesis Israel 1994/1995 Highlights. Community Advocacy/Project Genesis Israel 1994/1995 Highlights. “The Territories,” Leibowitz cited in Yeshayahu Leibowitz, Judaism, Human Values and the Jewish State, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, January 1, 1992, pp. 225, 226. https://womeningreen.org/ Dr. Martin Luther King Letter from Birmingham City Jail. Disengagement from the West Bank. www.kinghussein.gov.jo. Retrieved December 2013 Hussein surrenders claims on West Bank to the P.L.O.; U.S. peace plan in jeopardy; Internal Tensions. John Kifner, New York Times, 1 August 1988. http://ju.edu.jo/home.aspx. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jordan. Having taught at Boston University, Bernard Shapiro later moved to the University of Western Ontario where he became Dean of the Faculty of Education and subsequently its Vice President (Academic) and Provost in 1978. From 1980 until 1986 he was the Director of the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education, and in 1984 he published The Report of The Commission on Private Schools in Ontario for the Ministry of Education (Ontario). In 1986 he joined the Ontario public service as Deputy Minister of Education. Gretta Taylor was born in 1927 to an Anglophone father and a francophone mother. She was the first of three children born to Walter Margrave Taylor and the former Simone Marguerite Beaubien. Her father owned a steel company, and her mother came from a politically engaged, close family. Her younger brother Professor Charles Taylor is a world-renowned philosopher. The New York Times: PROFILE; A Pair of Presidents Keep It All in the Family; Kimberly J. McLarin; April 2, 1995. Confidential Notes on Second Trip to Jordan, May 29–31, 1995. Confidential Notes on Second Trip to Jordan, May 29–31, 1995. Jim Torczyner, Letter to Dr. Mohammad Maqusi, June 3, 1995. Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel; Update January 1996 – October 1996. Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel; Update January 1996 – October 1996. Demonstration with Netanyahu on YouTube. DRAFT: Genesis in Jordan: A Proposal to Establish a University and CommunityBased Advocacy Program for Women; Torczyner; Montreal, Quebec, Canada, February, 1996. Nicky Aumond, MCHRAT News; July 1996. “Suicide Bombings Scar Peres’ Political Ambitions.” CNN, May 28, 1996. “Pivotal Elections: Candidates.” CNN, 1996. The Montreal Gazette, June 7, 1996. Jim Torczyner, Memo to Nicky Aumond, May 15, 1997.

4

It’s about relationships The launching of the McGill Middle East program in Civil Society and Peace Building

Two Jordanians and three Israelis arrived in Montreal in the summer of 1997 to take up residence at McGill as the first Middle Eastern fellows. Linked by a common interest in advancing social welfare, they had diverse cultural, religious, and political backgrounds with varied interests and different mandates. Through them and with them we discovered the sometimes complex and sometimes familiar contours of interactions among people from a longstanding conflict zone who, at the same time, shared an office, a common program, and the same broad academic social work goals. We needed a new name. Our Middle East initiative was gradually becoming the major program of MCHRAT and necessitated identity and structure of its own. We chose the name “McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building” (MMEP). Hmoud Olimat, serious, scholarly, with a wry sense of humor, in his mid-40s, arrived from Jordan with his wife Wafa and five children. Hmoud’s parents worked in agriculture in the fields of northern Jordan, and Hmoud was born near one of these fields and registered in the city of Mufraq. Hmoud obtained his PhD and MSc in sociology from Oklahoma State University and was an assistant professor of sociology at the University of Jordan prior to joining the program. Hmoud describes himself as holding moderate traditional views about family, Western values, and contact with Israel. Hmoud’s life view and philosophy were rooted in traditional Islam and guided by religious practice, the values of family, charity, and social justice. With a keen interest in child welfare, Hmoud was tasked with developing a social work curriculum for Jordan rooted in Islamic values. Hmoud believes that “Values are universal, and I think they are shared by divine religions and noble human beings in general.”1 Mohammad Maani, Assistant Professor of population studies at the University of Jordan, arrived with his wife Mirvat and their preschool daughter Asile. Mohammad obtained his PhD in demography at the University of Glasgow. Mohammad’s tasks were to develop the professional field work component while also focusing on services to the elderly. Both Jordanian men were reluctant to interact with Israelis and women. Notwithstanding, they were joined by three Israeli women in a common program – one from a religious kibbutz, one from a Bedouin village, and one born in New York. Amal El- Sana – one of the two students who had guided us around unrecognized Bedouin villages, joined the first cohort of Israeli fellows. I met Amal again at

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Ben Gurion University where she was just completing her bachelor’s in social work. I was deeply impressed by this young, pioneering Bedouin feminist. Amal grew up in Lagiya – an unrecognized village in the Negev desert in Southern Israel – the sixth of 11 children in a remarkable family. Although very traditional, these six girls and five boys became doctors, lawyers, accountants, teachers, and social workers. Generally, in traditional Bedouin society, girls were not expected to pursue an education – relegated to household chores or herding sheep and goats. By age 10, Amal was breaking down barriers. She organized girls her age to refuse to herd the livestock if they were not allowed to attend school. By the time she was 18, Amal was instructing literacy classes for women and was a founding member of the first Women’s’ Organization of Lagiya. While studying at Ben Gurion University, she was a steering committee member of the New Feminist Center in Beersheba and, at the same time, coordinated programs in 25 Bedouin villages, including the establishment of a mobile library and the organization of a seminar series about human rights, preventing violence in the family, and school drop-out rates. From the very beginning, it was clear to me that Amal had dynamic charisma and incredible leadership abilities. On her own merits and given her accomplishments despite only being in her early 20s, I wanted Amal in the program. Being a Bedouin and a feminist were additional assets. Amal, however, was unmarried, and, despite being a feminist, was bound by the tradition that a single woman from her tribe could not study abroad unaccompanied. Amal and her childhood sweetheart Anwar, from a smaller and less powerful tribe, broke tradition and married. Anwar would go to Italy to study law while Amal would study social work at McGill. We did, however, have to convince Amal’s parents to support this plan. Amal’s father, Kareem, is an unusual man. He fully supported his daughters’ dreams and educational ambitions, even if it meant negotiating the contours of acceptable traditions with ingenuity reminiscent of “Tevyah” in “Fiddler on the Roof.” I went to Amal’s home and met her parents. Amal’s mother would not shake a man’s hand directly but, as a sign of closeness, wrapped her hand in a shawl and shook mine. It didn’t take long for us to find a way to move forward. We decided that I would be Amal’s father while she was in Canada and her real father would bestow these responsibilities on me. Upon completion of her year in Canada, I would return her to her father in Lagiya. The deal was struck over fine Bedouin food and undeserved presents of tapestries woven in the village. Noga Porat grew up on a religious, Orthodox kibbutz in the Galilee and earned a bachelor’s in social work at Bar Ilan University. Strong and outspoken, Noga was a community organizer at Community Advocacy Jerusalem where she worked on public housing issues. These two middle-aged, conservative Jordanian men with PhDs and two feminist women in their 20s from Israel with bachelor’s degrees in social work would study in a common, uniquely crafted MSW program where they would take many but not all courses together. Merav Moshe became part of the group and shared the common fellowship office. Merav was my PhD student – commencing an interdisciplinary PhD in social work and law focusing on the relationship between inequality and building peace. Merav arrived in Montreal with her three young daughters. As described

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in Chapter 2, Merav was a central figure in the establishment of Community Advocacy in Beersheba. Although Merav’s academic program would be entirely different from the others, she would remain in Montreal for five years and become a mainstay of this and succeeding cohorts of fellows and, to this very day, a central pillar of the ICAN program. In total, our first fellowship community consisted of three Israeli women, two Jordanian men, two spouses, and nine children. We had a general idea of how to proceed but would learn from experience and build on it in each successive cohort. I knew the Israeli fellows – many over several years – and I spoke Hebrew fluently. I would now begin to know the Jordanian fellows and with very limited Arabic. I would understandably be tested for bias, so I chose to only speak in English to the fellows and to ensure diversity among my staff. We created a common calendar out of this cultural mosaic. Our events respected those who kept kosher and those who kept halal, the presence and/or serving of alcohol, and accommodations for Jewish and Muslim holidays and prayer times. We presented this balance publicly. Some of the leadership In the Jewish community was enthusiastic and supportive, others were cautious, and a few were antagonistic and saw me as betraying their previous support for my work in Israel by extending it to Jordanians. The Arab community in Montreal was newer, smaller and with fewer institutional resources. While they liked the idea of Jordanians studying at McGill, they criticized me for not having Palestinians, who were at the core of the conflict. Most were critical of the Jewish community and of Canada’s consistent support for Israel – compounded by the almost total absence of relationships between Jewish and Arab organizations. Much of my initial support came from people in the Jewish community who shared my beliefs. I believed that there were people like them in Montreal’s Arab community, and we would reach out and find them. Ad hoc, we were creating a new set of experiences not only for the Jordanians and Israelis but for Arabs and Jews living in Montreal, for McGill, and for the student body and faculty of the school. We presented a consistent message: peace and social inequality are interrelated, and peace is advanced by reducing inequality within societies and across borders. We were not politicians. We had no intention of trying to create a common political, historical narrative from the very diverse experiences that the fellows brought with them. Rather, we wanted the fellows to understand each other as people and, through that process, become more open to each other’s narratives. We intuitively grasped that the best way to promote inclusion is by establishing an inclusive culture – where our involvement went well beyond the academic. Our programmatic concern was their overall well-being, whereby each person could find their own space and level of comfort. We encouraged the fellows to participate in and fully experience Montreal’s multicultural society. We helped enroll their children in school, to open bank accounts and to use the public transit system, and, most urgently, prepare for winter. We wanted them to experience life in a dynamic society in a Canadian city that functions by the rule of law and strives to accommodate diversity in its schools, in its housing, and in its cultural life.

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We found host families for each of the fellows to stay with until they found and chose their own places to live. During their year, we organized cultural visits in Montreal, Quebec City, and Ottawa, field visits to various communities and their organizations as well as to public services and recent innovations in the Quebec health and social services network. Retired faculty volunteered as academic social work mentors and tutors. We hired Marie LaCroix – then a social work PhD student at McGill – and Sandy Lipkus, a social work graduate who had worked closely with Professor Estelle Hopmeyer to coordinate programmatic efforts. Together with Andrew Woodall – who coordinated our Youth Rights Initiative at MCHRAT and later joined the MMEP team – and Lucie Marion, who managed our financial affairs, and, with Nicky’s management, we became a dedicated team. Notwithstanding shared offices and a common program, we would not push the fellows to do things that made them uncomfortable. Notwithstanding hesitations, their encounters became increasingly rich and honest and developed a life of their own. Hmoud’s eldest daughter, Razan, and her mother, Wafa, bonded with Amal and appreciated her freedom. Unbeknownst to Hmoud, they would meet at Amal’s apartment and dance, and even on one occasion, Amal took Razan to see a movie. Hmoud, much Amal’s senior, adored Amal – despite struggling with her more liberal attitudes. The fellows were respectful of each other’s religious perspectives and often debated their own. We ran a seminar series featuring a Rabbi, an Imam, and the late, renowned Catholic theologian and McGill professor Gregory Baum on religious perspectives on social justice. Amal debated the Koran with Hmoud, distinguishing between scripture and what she described as patriarchal interpretations that imposed control over women, and Noga debated Torah with Merav about its modern-day relevance. Issues of accommodation were approached imaginatively. For example, Nicky would defend her right to drink alcohol without this having to influence the Muslim’s abstinence sitting at the same table. Hmoud refused to sit at a table where alcohol was being served. They found a compromise. All would sit at the same table. All would order food according to their beliefs and preferences, alcohol would be available at an adjacent table – near enough so one could rest a glass on the adjacent table and drink from it without leaving one’s chair. Jews, Muslims, and Christians were deferential to each other’s beliefs and genuinely curious and eager to understand. On one trip to Ottawa in minus 30 degree Celsius conditions, we wanted to duck in to a restaurant and find shelter and food. It was the month of Ramadan, however, and we needed to first find out what time Ramadan ended in Ottawa and the feast could begin. We wandered around the city market asking Arab vendors what time the fast ended while discussing among us how similar this is to Judaism. The similarity went further. Most of the Muslim vendors didn’t exactly know – as most Jews if asked wouldn’t exactly know when the Sabbath ended – but they knew approximately. Approximately wasn’t good enough for Hmoud (as it wouldn’t have been for my father), so we stuck it out until we found a pious Muslim vendor who told us the exact time the fast ended, at

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which point we went to a restaurant. The Muslims had seafood, Merav had salads, Nicky had a glass of wine at the adjacent table, and we all were very grateful to be out of the bitter cold. It is shared experiences that create inclusion, but it was not always easy. There were very definite political differences about the Middle East conflict, Western democracy, parenting, gender rights, and distinctions between public and family life that influenced interactions, as did the idiosyncrasies of these five very capable but very different individuals. During one discussion, Hmoud said, “Amal you are one of us. You are an Arab and a Muslim.” A while later, Merav said “Amal, you are one of us. You are an Israeli citizen and you speak Hebrew.” Amal paused. “Well I am a member of both groups and the only way that is possible is to understand that we are one group.” The dynamics began to shift. We recruited mentors to work with the fellows on their conceptual and academic understanding of social work. We matched Amal with Sheila Goldbloom, a recently retired professor of Social Work highly regarded in the social work, philanthropic, and Jewish communities. The bond established between a young Arab, Muslim Bedouin woman and a distinguished, New York-born, Jewish professor of social work expanded and deepened and remains constant to this very day. Estelle Hopmeyer, the assistant director of the school of social work who introduced social work with bereavement groups in Montreal, also Jewish, mentored Mohammad Maani. Noga was mentored by a Quebecois francophone social work professor and Director of the Universite de Montreal school of social work – Jean Panet Raymond. Creating these intergenerational and intercultural mentorships was not by design but emerged and evolved as the first fellows arrived and would become a central fellowship program feature. The fellows represented the program to the public as ambassadors of peace through social work. There were numerous articles in the press, television and radio interviews, and the fellows engaged in considerable public speaking. In September 1997, Gretta Chambers hosted a reception at McGill to introduce the fellows to the Montreal and McGill communities. About 100 people attended the event. We had set up two buffet tables on opposite sides of a very large room, with considerable space in between for circulating. One table had all halal food. The second table had strictly kosher food. We needed to demonstrate through what we do that inclusion, reciprocity, and the idea that all people share the same rights be evidenced in every aspect of our program. I was, however, pleasantly nonplussed as many of the Jews ate from the Halal table, intrigued by the food, and many Muslims went over to the kosher table for the very same reasons. The program we constructed had to be responsive to the specific needs of the fellows, the requirements of McGill, and, through this process, assist them to gain vital knowledge adaptable to the Middle East. McGill required a BSW as a prerequisite for the MSW program. Those who had degrees in other fields would have to study in a one year “special BSW” program and then apply for the oneyear masters. This was complicated for us. Since there was no academic discipline of social work in Jordan, we would be unable to recruit Jordanian faculty with a social work degree – even though they had PhDs in related fields.

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Thanks to the ingenious stewardship of Estelle Hopmeyer and Dean of Graduate Studies Martha Crago, we devised a two-year program specifically for cohorts from the Middle East who were required to return to and practice in their home countries. The first year consisted of graduate-level courses as well as special classes designed to infuse their studies with material they would have learned in an undergraduate social work program. While other MSW students would complete their studies in one calendar year – taking eight semester courses, 450 hours of field work, and completing one quarter of their credits as an independent research project – the fellows would defer the actual field work and research project to the second year back home where they would spend four days a week in the field and one day writing up their research project. Altogether, the two years of academic and field work was more than the equivalent of a one-year master’s. McGill’s Board of Governors approved this unique program designed for cohorts and as an international master’s degree and has continued to do so in its subsequent iterations. This innovation opened the doors and allowed us to recruit doctors, lawyers, architects, organizers, poets, and educators, creating both a diverse and multitalented mix. Financial issues were difficult in these beginning stages. The grant from the Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA) covered the full costs for the Jordanians, including airfare, tuition, medical insurance, books, and an annual stipend of $30,000. CIDA, however, would not cover Israeli costs. We had to find money ourselves for Amal and Noga, which we did from fundraising activities, but, as single individuals, they received a lesser amount. *** I needed to develop a strategy to sustain the program. A one-off, two-year fellowship could only initiate a process that would barely scratch the surface of what needed to be done. I knew that the program required longer-term funding from the Canadian government. It was time to expand the program to include Palestinian institutional partners, both because they were a central partner to the conflict and because, during this post-Oslo season, world donors were focusing much attention on assisting Palestine and the peace process. Canada was a central player in the peace process. We wanted the Canadian government to engage us as partners in promoting peace and development. I had initiated contact with several Palestinian universities, but, to further this discussion, I would have face to face meetings in the spring of 1998 when I would be in the region. In the interim, I would focus on a strategy with the Canadian International Development Agency for multi-year support for fellowships whose graduates would establish rights-based centers in Palestine, Israel, and Jordan and continue to advance professional social work education in the region. My meetings with various departments at CIDA in Ottawa were not encouraging. Israel and, therefore, a peace building component, did not fit into CIDA’s Middle Eastern strategy, which focused on bilateral assistance to the emerging Palestinian Authority and Jordan. Regional strategies that would empower people locally to relate development to peace building were not present in the CIDA

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repertoire of interventions, and, consequently, they had no envelope through which to fund such endeavors. CIDA did, however, run a program called University Partnerships in Cooperation and Development, which awarded a few competitive Tier 1 grants to support academic–community partnerships that advanced CIDA development priorities in countries to which they provide assistance. The proposals had to be interdisciplinary and provided up to $1,000,000 annually for five years. These criteria fit us. Each university could only propose one project, following an internal competition scheduled at McGill for late 1997. I wanted to put together an interdisciplinary proposal with the faculty of law, with whom I had developed the joint law-social work degree. However, Irwin Cotler informed me that the law faculty was not interested, so I searched out related departments. We had been doing a lot of work around housing issues in Israel, and this led me to the school of architecture, where I met faculty involved in the promotion of better housing for low-income people both in Canada and abroad. Vikram Bhatt, a professor of architecture, developed the Minimum Cost Housing Group, which has done field work in the Philippines, Mexico, Nigeria, India, and China and led to several imaginative projects to better house the disadvantaged. Vikram was very keen in joining this effort, and we agreed to propose a five-year Tier 1 grant, which would connect social work, housing, and peace building. We proposed bringing together academic institutions and NGOs in Palestine, Jordan, and Israel with the goal of “the creation of a network of three self-sustaining centers which give professional training at both university and community levels and address the specific issues of housing, human rights and social welfare.”2 We requested graduate fellowships in social work and rights-based practice or in architecture, in a common program of 36 Palestinians, Israelis and Jordanians, who would study together in three consecutive cohorts. Their work together, we proposed, would lead to better understanding and joint projects – administered by a board with equal representation from each country. This program will give to Jordanians, Palestinians, and Israelis unique abilities and experience in the broad field of civil society and peace building. It will lead to improved housing, balanced social development, increased respect for human rights, and increased participation of women in all aspects of life. It will strengthen community-based organizations and academic institutions in Jordan, the Palestinian Authority and Israel to develop and apply new organizations, methods and programs rooted in empowerment techniques, the popularization of professional knowledge, and in strategies of social inclusion, and to relate them to peace building. This program will further develop collaboration among Israelis, Palestinians and Jordanians through the building of people-to-people relationships, and the development of regional strategies. Long term impact includes sustainable housing programs, reduction in inequality, rule of law, democracy building and coexistence.3

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Our proposal won the internal McGill competition, and, as it turns out, our main competition was from the Faculty of Law. The proposal was then forwarded to CIDA. It would take months for this competition to be adjudicated and be at least a year before funds became available. In any event, we had gained ground. We now had the academic backing of the University and a partner faculty at McGill for this proposal. Follow-up meetings with CIDA officials to identify other possible CIDA avenues for funding were discouraged at every turn. It was clear that the bureaucracy was not supportive, and, if we were to move ahead, it would have to be through a political route. Gretta Chambers and Sheila Finestone networked for us to secure a meeting directly with the Minister for International Development, Hon. Diane Marleau. Scheduled for January 20, 1998, it would be attended by senior CIDA officials, as well as Minister Sheila Finestone, myself and Professor Vikram Bhatt, the five fellows, and Jonathan Goldbloom – the son of Sheila Goldbloom – who generously helped us in the preparation of our presentation and strategic approach. The closer we got to the date of the meeting, the more pressure intensified from CIDA officials. I was told that we would never get the $1,000,000 a year we were asking for, the best I could hope for was a one-time renewal of the $250,000 granted, and there was no money for peace building efforts. I should “Take it or leave it!” No official is pleased when one bypasses channels and makes a direct overture to the minister. It seemed to me, however, that their opposition ran deeper. Part of it was that we thought about process and outcomes differently. CIDA was committed to Logical frame Analysis (LFA) with inputs, outputs, activities, outcomes, impact, risk mitigation strategies, which is a common approach with international donors where measurable results are specified in the application. I had no familiarity with this approach. I rejected it, as it felt that we were being boxed into a way of thinking that inhibits creative possibilities, which emerge from a process approach where the players decide the contours of peace building, the relationships they are willing to establish, and the directions they wish to take as the process unfolds. One could not commit partners to outcomes in a peace building program before they had entered it. On the other hand, there is considerable utility to this official, structured planning approach – provided that is not used as a singular tool of program direction. In addition to conceptual differences, I felt strong resistance from CIDA officials to engage Israel in any program in the region. CIDA only engaged the Palestinian side and their narrative – to the exclusion of an Israeli narrative – and lacked a framework and approach that relates development, respect for universal rights, and peacebuilding. Actually, 10 years earlier, CIDA and the Israeli Foreign Ministry International Cooperation Department – MASHAV – had cooperated on a joint project to increase dairy production in the Dominican Republic. The project did not go well for the countries, the farmers, and the cows involved and ended with mutual recrimination, which further exasperated relations at the time.

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It would take many years for CIDA and Mashav to renew attempts to develop joint projects to assist developing countries. In advance of the meeting, I wrote Minister Marleau: As the Middle East peace process deteriorates, it becomes increasingly urgent to develop partnerships which relate development to peace building. Our work to date in the Middle East has been inspired by this belief and has had considerable success, notwithstanding the difficult political climate. The proposed expansion of this program defines a leading Canadian role in peace building and development which parallels and builds on the “Ottawa process” which resulted in the historic land mine agreement.4 The meeting took place following a horrendous ice storm that devastated much of Montreal and Ottawa. Thirty-five people died as a result of the storm; more than 1.2 million homes in Quebec and 250,000 homes in Ontario lost power. Canadian army battalions were engaged in massive rescue, road clearance, and emergency activity. The fellows lived through it and experienced firsthand Canadians of all languages, faiths, and cultures pulling together, lending a hand in face of sudden catastrophe. Arriving in Ottawa the day after another storm that dumped 30 centimeters of snow on the city, we made our way first to Minister Finestone’s office. Sheila briefed us. We should focus on the impact our work would have on women and building peace and not worry about what the officials said. At one point, Sheila left the room. Amal, dressed in full traditional Bedouin outfit befitting a meeting with a minister, walked over and sat in Sheila’s chair at her desk. At that very moment, Sheila returned to her office. Amal jumped up and said, “I admire you so much, I just wanted to see what it would feel like to sit in your shoes.” Sheila beamed, and together we went to meet with Minister Marleau in her conference room. The meeting was positive, upbeat, and decisive. Minister Marleau5 expressed support and raised possible bridge funding in the short term. The CIDA officials did not speak.6 *** I left for the Middle East a few days later to prepare for the week-long visit to Israel and Jordan by McGill Principal Bernard Shapiro. Fawzi Gharabeih hosted us and gave us a tour of the campus, followed by a luncheon in Bernard’s honor. Bernard gave a lecture to an overflowing audience of 300 University of Jordan faculty members and Presidents and Vice Presidents of all Jordanian Universities entitled: “The Future of Higher Education in the 21st Century.” That evening, we were invited for dinner by Canadian Ambassador Mike Molloy at his official residence together with Crown Prince Hassan, his wife Sarvath, Israeli ambassador to Jordan Oded Aran, and Fawzi Gharabeih. Crown Prince Hassan, officially representing the Palace, as his brother King Hussein and Queen Noor were in London, has a commanding presence and a regaling quick wit.

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The crown prince was a longstanding proponent of promoting understanding among the world’s religions, and the dinner provided an opportunity to present the broad strokes of our program. We had a lively discussion and were enthusiastically encouraged. At one point during the dinner, Mike Molloy, Bernard, and I could not help but notice the frequent and rapid exchange of notes between the Crown Prince and the Israeli Ambassador. We did our best to restrain our excitement – thinking that perhaps our dinner might be the place where an important breakthrough in Middle East relations was occurring right before our very eyes. Humbled, it wasn’t so. The Crown Prince and the Ambassador were exchanging jokes – some of which were “inappropriate” for this austere gathering! Early the next morning Fawzi Gharabeih’s driver took us on the three-hour drive to Petra. One of the great wonders of the world, Petra is believed to have been settled as early as 9,000 B.C. and established in the 4th century B.C. as the capital city of the Nabataean Kingdom. The Nabataeans were nomadic Arabs who established Petra as a major regional trading hub and the focus of Nabatean wealth. By the early Islamic era, Petra had been abandoned and remained unknown to the world until it was rediscovered in 1812 by Johann Ludwig Burckhardt. More recently, it served as the site for Indiana Jones films and is a UNESCO World Heritage Site and a major tourist attraction. I had been to Petra several times, and it involves hiking and/or paying for a ride on a donkey to the site itself. Not so with Bernard and Fawzi’s limo. We were driven into a narrow site near the ancient Nabatean Treasury building and were given a fascinating tour by the chief archeologist, for which we were most grateful. We were then driven another two hours to the southern border crossing to Israel, crossed over, and were met by a driver from Ben Gurion University who drove us for another two hours to Beersheba and dropped us off at our hotel at 9:00 P.M. – a long, exhausting, and exhilarating day. The following day, we were the guests of Avishay Braverman at Ben Gurion University. We started with breakfast, followed by a tour of the campus, which included an unexpected, delightful visit with a passionate professor of plant biology whose lab was filled with exotic fruit trees and flowers from all over the world that he was adapting to desert climates. Avishay’s passion, vision, and intense energy were ever-present. Ben Gurion University was truly on the move and would soon rank highest among Israeli students as the most sought-after of all Israeli universities. Bernard led a luncheon symposium along with Avishay and Nachum Finger – the rector of Ben Gurion – and was presented with the Ben Gurion University Medallion. Following lunch, Bernard led another symposium in the department of social work entitled: “The role of the University in the Community” and gave interviews to Haaretz and The Jerusalem Post. Bernard loves opera, and the new opera house in Tel Aviv had just opened. Avishay came up with two tickets for the performance of the French opera Samson and Delilah, and this was an opportunity for Bernard to have some down time with one of his favorite pastimes. We drove an hour and a half in each direction.

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Bernard’s ticket was in the mezzanine, and mine was up in the balcony. I am not much of an opera buff and, exhausted, I confess I slept through much of it. What I found most remarkable was that on the back of the seats there was a running translation in Hebrew of a French opera set in Biblical Israel. Globalization at its best! Community Advocacy organized the following day, which began with a visit to Community Advocacy in Beersheba, a tour of the neighborhood, and doorknocking accompanied by students and staff. It was clear that these encounters as well as those with storefront volunteers resonated both with Bernard’s educational philosophy and personal values. From there, we traveled to Jerusalem and to the Knesset where Community Advocacy made a presentation entitled “Neighborhood Democracy: From Grassroots to the Knesset” to a group of Knesset members and senior leadership in government and higher education. Afterward, we joined in the Knesset’s official celebration of Tu B’Shvat.7 We arrived at the Community Advocacy storefront in Jerusalem for an official McGill reception for Bernard Shapiro. It was without precedent to host the principal of McGill University at a storefront in a rundown neighborhood, but it was also making a statement. It showed McGill’s commitment to issues of poverty, inequality, and social justice and showed McGill alumni living in “the other side” of Israel, which our guests had not encountered previously. More than 100 people jammed into our one-room storefront, and we celebrated the spirit of McGill and the accomplishments of the staff, students, and volunteers. *** In 1998, Community Advocacy storefronts assisted more than 6,000 citizens. Community Advocacy succeeded in having two important public housing laws passed by the Knesset, which set a deadline for the public housing authority to make repairs and which enabled public housing tenants to buy their apartments – using their back-rent payments as a down payment. Although the law passed, Community Advocacy, along with other groups, kept the pressure on and successfully sued the Public Housing Authority in the Supreme Court of Israel to fully implement these laws as passed. Community Advocacy’s funding base continued to expand with support from North American, Israeli, and European institutions, foundations, and private individuals. Raising funds, however, was becoming increasingly difficult, paradoxically, with success. Success leads to expansion, which leads to greater dependence on outside funding, which then requires increasing amounts of organizational energy to maintain operations and often leads to reduced risk taking. Cloward and Piven wrote about this in “Poor People’s Movements: How They Succeed and Why They fail” where they describe how social movements inevitably move to administering gains and when doing so de-accelerate the struggle for social justice.8 The more successful an organization is at claiming a previously unoccupied space in the public and community arenas, the more likely others will arise to claim the same space, fight for the same limited resources, and legitimately

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imagine other applications of empowerment, rights, and social justice. Particularly during times of scarcity, resources for rights-based practice activities become more difficult to obtain. There is less available for all organizations, especially for those with a social change agenda. Organizations like Community Advocacy have no real base to generate funds on their own – either through income-generating social projects, membership donations, or other strategies designed to reduce dependency. Organizations like Community Advocacy, therefore, must simultaneously deliver results to the community while raising the money for these efforts, including advocacy, from outside the community they serve and often from governments whose policies they oppose and often in competition from similar, like-minded organizations. Social change organizations like Community Advocacy require strategies to balance their different publics. Sana (2017)9 describes strategies AJEEC employed to diversify funding with substantial percentages coming from income generating social enterprises. Other strategies include spinning off programs and projects so that they become independent entities able to focus on their mission and thrive on their own. Notwithstanding, the spun-off organizations will also face the same dilemmas arising from service to – and funding from – different publics. Social change organizations must engage with all these publics in the context of flexible and changing environments – while seeking to remain true to their purpose. From the perspective of rights-based practice, change involves not only making room for the voices of those least heard but promoting reciprocity between those who are privileged and those who are less so and empowering those with the least access to change policy. Operationally, this happens through engagement, which will necessarily involve struggle, goal displacement, growth, and retrenchment. In other words, social change organizations and their leaders must adapt to survive and, inevitably, cannot stand alone. After five years, Community Advocacy was no longer “the new kid on the block.” Its success brought about its expansion and increased budgets as well as the emergence of an unexpected competitor. The Montreal Federation three-year annual funding of $100,000 was ending. The new federation president, Stanley Plotnick, was not averse to Community Advocacy but questioned ongoing funding for it. He and others argued that funding was not indefinite, notwithstanding a Federation- commissioned independent evaluation of Community Advocacy, which found that Community Advocacy had surpassed all expected results. As much as Community Advocacy’s success was due to the Montreal Federation’s funding, as difficult as the struggles for funding were initially, and notwithstanding the impact of the sudden death of Mayor Ijo Rager shortly before his trial, things had changed. Montreal was giving less money to Israel and was entering a new phase with the Jewish Agency program: “Project 2,000.” Continued funding for Community Advocacy “outside the box” of regular funding streams came under greater scrutiny, and the Montreal Federation would gradually reduce its support to Community Advocacy and terminate it entirely over the next several years.

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Sari Rivkin, the Executive Director of SHATIL and founding board member of Community Advocacy and Avi Armoni, the national executive director of the New Israel Fund in Israel initially reached out to Shira Hertzog at the Kahanoff foundation to fund Genesis Israel – Community Advocacy. At that time, Shira had committed to funding the entire budget of the Jerusalem Community Advocacy organization if the board of Community Advocacy agreed that the Kahanoff foundation would be the only funder for Jerusalem. While we were cognizant of the challenges such a relationship could pose, we were just getting off the ground and were inclined to accept this generous funding commitment of approximately $500,000 over three years. At a meeting at her brother Itzchak Hertzog’s boardroom to sign agreements, Shira informed us that she wanted to name half the board members and the Executive Director. We refused, and Shira withdrew her support. It was due to Avner’s persuasion that the Kahanoff foundation provided a one-time grant of $50,000. Fast forward a few years; we were suddenly informed of the abrupt resignation of Sari Rivkin from the Community Advocacy board as well as from her position as executive director of Shatil. Simultaneously, Avi Armoni resigned as executive director of The New Israel Fund/Israel. Sari Revkin and Avi Armoni resigned their positions in order to establish a new NGO together with the Labor party. The new organization “Yedid” – the Association for Community Empowerment – was founded “to restore the original vision of the Israeli Labor movement: a vision of a democratic Israel based on equality, social justice and peace.”10 Sari Revkin became its founding executive director and retained this position until it closed in 2017. Yedid set up storefront “citizen’s rights centers” throughout Israel initially to help the labor party defeat Netanyahu in the coming election and thereby attempt to gain strength among the most marginalized communities who had consistently voted for the right-wing Likud. Early elections took place on May 17, 1999 following a vote of no-confidence. Likud Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu was defeated in a landslide vote by Labor’s Ehud Barak, who promised to storm the citadels of peace through negotiations with the Palestinians and withdrawal from Lebanon by July 2000. The Kahanoff foundation was a founding partner and significant funder of Yedid. The funding relationship between the Kahanoff foundation and the Israeli Labor Party was investigated by both Israeli and Canadian authorities. Barak’s labor party was fined more than $4.1 million after the investigators concluded that the Kahanoff Foundation as well as contributions from other donors were found to be illegal.”11 The Globe and Mail reported this controversy as follows: “Israeli report names Canadian charity as source of funds” “A Canadian charitable foundation that donates money to Israel has been named as one of numerous sources of illegal campaign funds that helped Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak win the general election last May.

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The Kahanoff Foundation, a Calgary-based charity with assets of more than $100 million, is mentioned three times in a damning report published last Thursday by Israeli state comptroller Eliezer Goldberg. The flow of funds from foreign donors into a string of foundations that helped Mr. Barak’s campaign is now the focus of a criminal investigation by Israeli police. The comptroller levied a fine of more than $4.1 million on Mr. Barak’s One Israel movement because of the illegal donations, which the report says were organized by his adviser Yitzhak Herzog, a lawyer who now is cabinet secretary. Kahanoff Foundation president Jim Hume said yesterday that the comptroller’s report came as a complete surprise to him. “Our understanding was that these donations would go to charitable community programs of the organizations in question. We are disturbed to learn that they were apparently used for other purposes.” The foundation, he added, “does not and cannot support political organizations or activities.” The foundation’s vice-president is Shira Herzog, the cabinet secretary’s cousin. They are part of one of the most storied families in Israel. Her father Yaacov was chief of staff to Prime Minister David Ben Gurion in the 1960s and ambassador to Canada. She declined to comment yesterday.”12 I did not object to our model being adapted and applied in various spheres. No one owns a model of practice, especially a model that seeks to popularize knowledge and access to it. I do object, however, to tying grassroots community-based organizations to any political party. Doing so only replicates the existing structure where political parties pull at low income communities, offer its leaders benefits and, in so doing, further fragment them. A rights-based approach organizes across all factions in communities, identifies issues that unite rather than divide, and applies pressure as a united community to all political parties. I believe that political parties must earn the respect of community organizations by what they deliver. The establishment of Yedid was not only a philosophical conflict between related approaches. Yedid established local storefronts and utilized media and political lobbying strategies to pressure for progressive social change but did not organize residents on a local level and had no strategy to increase their participation. Yedid had great success in cultivating North American donors. From their long experience at the New Israel Fund, Sari Revkin and Avi Armoni had extensive relationships with major Federations in North America, foundations, and wealthy philanthropists who supported social justice causes in Israel. Combined with the network of support Barak and the Labor party had, Yedid was well positioned to fundraise and to capture media attention. Yedid raised a lot of money, hired savvy media strategists, and knew how to make headlines and put themselves on the map. Through their operations, they helped to achieve important gains for the disadvantaged in Israel, but the costs to other organizations was very dear. Yedid misrepresented itself in its published material: “Yedid is the only national organization in Israel that empowers Israelis to break the cycle of poverty through free individual legal and social assistance, community education initiatives and grassroots organizing for social change.”13

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Over the years, by “cornering the market,” by not acknowledging the work of other organizations, and by having exclusive reach to important funders, Yedid established itself – but at the expense of others. In the context of shrinking resources, Yedid’s self-promotion made it more difficult for other organizations such as Community Advocacy to seek support from the same, limited sources. Organizations that have an active constituency and are committed to democratic decision making like Community Advocacy invest heavily in direct organizing where citizens struggle through issues and ideas, and, in the end, make their own decisions. Such organizations lack the infrastructure to maintain and cultivate overseas funders because their staff commitments are directed toward work in disadvantaged communities rather than toward outreach to overseas philanthropic communities. Compounding these differing philosophical, practice, and funding orientations, there was a profound rupture in what had been a deep, personal, organizational, political, and social friendship between Barbara Epstein and Sari Revkin. These factors would impede progress in the years to come for a coherent, national grassroots, social justice strategy to emerge in Israel. *** The last few days of February and early March thawed Montrealers as temperatures rose above freezing for the first time in a long while. People were outside, chatting, walking, and catching rays of sun. Mohammad Maani, one of our Jordanian fellows, was walking to the McGill School of Social Work school that morning, when he collapsed, fell into a snowbank, and lost consciousness. An ambulance from The Royal Victoria Hospital, just up the hill, quickly arrived and rushed him to emergency. Upon examination, they discovered that Mohammad had undergone double kidney failure – both of his kidneys had completely shut down. In intensive care and on dialysis, Mohammad stabilized, and Hmoud and I visited him and spoke with his doctors. With two failed kidneys, the best option for Mohammad was a kidney transplant. Finding an available and compatible donor was a complex, often lengthy process, and it required an extensive array of blood tests to ensure that the transplanted kidney would not be rejected. Mohammad had a brother, Ayman, living outside of Amman, who was willing to donate a kidney. I contacted Sami Khaswneih and Fawzi Gharabeih and forwarded to them the list of preliminary blood tests required to determine suitability. These preliminary results were forwarded to Dr. Loercher, head of nephrology at the royal Victoria Hospital, and were determined to match. Quebec has an enlightened policy regarding transplants. All medical expenses are charged to the kidney’s recipient. As Mohammad had Quebec health insurance, all treatments would be 100 per cent covered. Any medical procedures, tests, etc. done on the donor are totally free – irrespective of the status of the donor. Even transportation costs are covered. It is not only humane, but it is far more cost-effective than keeping someone on dialysis indefinitely.

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Another set of blood tests was required to make a final determination as to compatibility. This involved having Ayman’s blood sample drawn in Jordan and transported to Montreal within 24 hours. Making this happen and coordinating it was urgent and critical. I got in touch with Ambassador Molloy and Laurent Beaulieu – first secretary at the Canadian embassy in Amman – and Sami Khaswneih as to what was required. Two more blood tests needed to be carried out. Immediately following the successful completion of these tests, Dr. Loercher would write a letter confirming that Ayman Maani had been selected as a “live” donor. I suggested that Ayman’s blood samples be drawn at the last possible moment prior to being airborne to the Royal Victoria Hospital to arrive within 24 hours. We explored flights from Amman or Tel Aviv, which were the only direct ways to get the blood to Montreal on time. We discovered there were no direct flights between Amman and Montreal. We would have to depend on having the blood transported by someone to a second location and to have it then transferred to a flight to Montreal. This seemed very risky, both in terms of the safety of transferring blood vials and the potential delays in its arrival within 24 hours. We didn’t know what to do. I called my good friend Dany Segev. Dany is a pilot for El Al airlines. He was raised on Kibbutz Ein Gev on the shores of the Sea of Galilee across the lake from the city of Tiberius. He had been a fighter pilot in the Israeli air force, and, upon his retirement, became a pilot at El Al, Israel’s national airlines. Dany is married to Ruthie, the daughter of Bert and Julie Gample – both doctors – who I knew from my years in Jerusalem in the 1960s. Back then, I became very close with the whole family, and this friendship continued and strengthened over time. Dany lives in a remote agricultural village, which buttresses a valley on the so-called Green Line dividing Israel from Palestine. Palestinian workers worked in Dany’s village. When Dany and others discovered that these workers did not have access to medical care in Palestine because they lived on remote, inaccessible hilltops, Dany organized that the fence dividing them be opened twice a week to admit Palestinians for a free medical clinic at his village in Israel provided by village medical professionals. Dany is no lefty peacenik. He is, I believe, like many Israelis, especially those who grew up on Kibbutzim, a humane and caring individual with social values he acts on and lives by. Dany told me he needed a couple of hours to think about it. He called me back with a plan. Look, I believe in what you are doing, and I believe in doing what we can to help Mohammad. So, here’s my plan. Have Ayman take the bus from Amman across the Allenby bridge and from there to Tel Aviv. I will pick him up at the bus station, take him home and will have a nurse draw the blood. We will feed him, take care of him, and drive him back to catch the next bus. I will change my flight schedule and fly the blood in myself. You will have it within 15 hours! And after we drop it off, you will take me for breakfast at Beauty’s (a landmark breakfast deli in Montreal).

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I called Oded Aran, the Israeli ambassador, and he agreed to immediately issue a visa for Ayman to travel to Tel Aviv. I then called Fawzi Gharabeih, explained the plan, and said that Ayman would need some money to cover his costs while travelling. “Done!” said Fawzi. “I will pay for this out of my own pocket rather than to explain why I am authorizing funds to send a Jordanian to Tel Aviv at this time. This way . . . no bureaucracy.” And so it happened. Schedules were coordinated. Ayman arrived at the central bus station in Tel Aviv – speaking no Hebrew or English. Dany was there to pick him up, took him to his home to meet his wife and kids, to have a meal, to have his blood drawn – all done by a former Israeli fighter pilot who had participated in wars with neighboring countries including Jordan – and whom Ayman had only experienced as a destructive, powerful enemy. People who were former enemies did this. Official processes and political discussions can’t make happen what human beings can do with simple decency, united around the common value of saving a life. Dany arrived at Dorval airport, and I met him there. We delivered the blood to the Royal Victoria and I then fulfilled my commitment and took him for breakfast at Beauty’s. Once the results of the blood compatibility were carried out, Mohammad, Hmoud, and I met with the nephrologist and the chief of the transplant unit. Mohammad had undergone four emergency blood transfusions when he arrived in the ER. In response to the transfusions, Mohammad developed antibodies that would reject all potential donors at this time. Mohammad’s antibody level would first have to come down enough so his body would not reject a donated kidney. I asked the likelihood of Dr. Maani’s antibodies coming down sufficiently within six months to permit a transplant from his brother Ayman. We were told this cannot be predicted, but was highly improbable. I wrote Fawzi, Please be reassured that we are doing whatever is possible to ensure that Dr. Maani receives the best medical attention available in Canada. At the end of the day, however, we are faced with the probability that the transplant will not be carried out in Canada. Therefore, unanticipated issues of ongoing and frequent dialysis for Dr. Maani in Amman must now be considered.14 Throughout the crisis and continuing for the remainder of the year, we all pitched in to assist Mohammad, his wife Mirvat, and his daughter Asile. They did not speak much English, but with the support of Amal and Hmoud’s family and the care extended by Merav, the group grew closer. Mohammad underwent dialysis several times a week, completed his year, and returned to Jordan. He continued a successful career as a Professor of Social Work at the University of Jordan. He became deeply involved in disability issues and services for seniors. Mohammad never did have a kidney transplant. He continued with dialysis and retired from the University at the mandatory retirement age a couple of years ago.

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Mohammad’s odyssey would have an important, indirect impact on establishing partnerships in Palestine. *** Tuesday, April 21, 1998: We received a letter from the Honorable Minister Diane Marleau awarding us $1,000,000 annually over the next three years to support fellowships for 16 Jordanians and Palestinians who would set up rights-based teaching centers in their home communities and to support the establishment of a regional network of Jordanian, Palestinian, and Israeli academics and practitioners. The grant had two provisos: “Securing full participation from Jordanian, Palestinian and Israeli partners; and securing matching funds.” The matching funds would be a challenge, but given that CIDA could not fund Israeli fellows or centers, we knew that we needed to cover eight fellowships. In a complex formula, McGill University received 12 per cent in overhead costs; 23 per cent of this 12 per cent or about $100,000, would be returned to MCHRAT. We would plough this back to support Israeli fellows. The Quebec government provided a cash grant to the program of $150,000 and waived foreign tuition, which saved us an additional $250,000. Adding to this the Community Advocacy budget, the in-kind contributions of the partners, and additional funds we could raise, the prospects looked good. *** I believed that securing Palestinian partners would be difficult, complex, and impacted directly by political events that shape the Israeli–Palestinian relationship. Under occupation and with little progress in the peace process, Palestinian intellectuals and organizers, by and large, adopted a strong anti-normalization policy. This policy not only forbade Palestinian institutions from having direct relationships with Israeli institutions but blacklisted universities worldwide that had partnerships with Israeli institutions, forbidding Palestinian universities from working with them. I believe that such restrictive policies not only defy basic principles of academic freedom and integrity but also deny Palestinians important access to world academic institutions, research, and sources of funds. I had few contacts and very limited experience in Palestine. I had not traveled there because I am opposed to the occupation and believe that it is not good for Israelis or Palestinians. Although I had the legal right to travel freely in Palestine, I believed that one doesn’t go and visit someone’s home without being invited. And why would I be invited? I had nothing to offer, am Jewish and a Zionist, and, at the same time, I was intimidated by fear of violence. Notwithstanding, I believed that there were Palestinian intellectuals, leaders, and community organizers who understood that the way to change the abnormal situation of occupation is by getting “normal” people on both sides to work together to change it.15 There are potential allies if one can identify self-interest and shared values. I now had something to offer – a Canadian-funded program with graduate fellowships for Palestinians and funds to support the establishment of rights-based centers. It was time for me to reach out.

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I left for the region on May 4, 1998.16 The overall environment I found upon arriving was the worst I had seen in many years. The standstill in the peace process – notwithstanding efforts to mediate it in both London and Washington – had not produced results. “The 50th anniversary of the State of Israel, planned as a crowning moment in Jewish history, has been a bittersweet event as Israelis are worried and disillusioned about prospects for peace,” I wrote. For Arabs, it is the 50th anniversary of “Naqbah” – “the great catastrophe.” Demonstrations, rock-throwing at Israeli troops and at Jewish worshipers at religious sites and violent confrontations throughout the West Bank and Gaza left about a dozen Palestinians killed in the past 10 days. Both Israeli and Palestinian extremists have attacked and killed innocent civilians. In Jordan, sporadic bombings aimed at toppling the secular regime have taken place, and internal security has become much tighter. Demonstrations against Israel, the United States and the regime in Jordan have intensified. There is talk of war, instability and turmoil – accompanied and pushed forward by the deterioration of the Israeli, Jordanian and Palestinian economies. Tourism is down. Unemployment and inflation are up. Not only has the “peace dividend” been elusive, but many feel that their economic security is worse today than it was prior to the peace process. There is very little optimism in the region, and less willingness to trust the other side or to engage in joint activities.17 I sought reputable academic and community partners with broad recognition and legitimacy in the Palestinian community; willing to participate in this program which also includes Israeli partners – irrespective of how ambiguously worded; and are acceptable to McGill’s Jordanian partners.18 We had to consider the scope and reach of potential Palestinian partners in the context of a divided emerging state. In effect, there are three geographic Palestinian communities within Palestine: West Bank; Gaza; and Palestinian sections of Jerusalem annexed by Israel after the 1967 war. Each has distinct histories, cultures, and needs. Palestinian Jerusalemites are dependent on Israel for all public services. East Jerusalemite Palestinian students can attend Israeli universities or Al-Quds University, the only Arab University in Jerusalem. Palestinians in East Jerusalem have rights of residency but not citizenship and need to constantly prove and maintain residency or face losing their status as Jerusalemites. In the West Bank, Palestinians manage their own educational and health institutions but are subject to curfews and restrictions on internal mobility. Gaza had been part of Egypt prior to the 1967 War. Physically cut off from the West Bank, its systems steeped in Egyptian law (rather than Jordanian law, as in the case in the West Bank), it is physically isolated, and its residents are not free to leave. Palestinian academic institutions have not been able to develop freely since the 1967 war and were closed repeatedly during the Intifada. Palestinian NGOs have principally been oppositional groups, highly politicized and closely tied to various

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political and religious movements. NGOs and public institutions are now undergoing a rapid transformation. Some remain oppositional but find themselves opposed now to their Palestinian government. Others are redefining their roles, management styles, and activities as partners in nation building. At the same time and irrespective of the causes, the cumulative effects of living under Israeli rule, several generations living in refugee camps, the violence and destruction of the intifada, the frustrations about the stalemate in the peace process, high unemployment and poverty produce explosive societal conditions and trauma for individuals, families, communities and their institutions.19 To seek out partners in this context within a short period of time, we utilized our McGill contacts – especially Musa Kamal – to identify potential Palestinian academic partners. Bir Zeit University in Ramallah was well known but did not have a social work program. Bethlehem University did offer a bachelor’s program in social work, as did Al-Quds University, but neither had architecture. An Najah, in Nablus, had a distinguished architecture and engineering faculty but not social work. I would attempt to meet them all. Bir Zeit and Bethlehem University were not prepared to participate in any program that included Israelis. In January 1988, one month after the eruption of the first intifada, Israeli authorities shut down Bir Zeit University for 51 months. Bethlehem University, a much smaller Jesuit University, had fewer than 2,000 students in 1998. It, too, fully supported the anti-normalization policy. Neither Bir Zeit nor Bethlehem was prepared to consider alternative formulas that would enable them to participate. I had formulated several principles about overall governance, given the antinormalization movement. Each partner would have a direct, bilateral relationship with McGill that was not dependent on any other agreements McGill had in the region. These various bilateral programs shared common interests and programs: fellowships to McGill; the establishment of community-based teaching centers; the development of social work as an academic discipline; and the initiation of new housing solutions. All the partners would serve on a common board in order to shape the program as they were linked together. No one institution and no country could impose its views on any other institution or country. All participants held equal status. I approached Israeli organizations and contacts who had relationships with Palestinian organizations. Many pointed to Al-Quds University and its president, Sari Nusseibeh, a leading Palestinian intellectual who studied at Oxford and earned a PhD from Harvard. He favored exchanges among Israeli and Palestinian academics and NGOs. Held in high esteem, the Nusseibeh family was one of the three original Jerusalem Arab families and holds the keys to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. I had connections with the Charles Rosner Bronfman (CRB) Foundation headquartered in Jerusalem. Janet Aviad, the CEO, referred me to Dan Bitan, who is a

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consultant to CRB on peace and cooperation projects. Dan was close to Sari, who also chaired the Palestine Consultancy Group. Dan asked me to come with him and meet with the group. I had never heard of the Palestine Consultancy Group. Founded in 1993, it described itself as committed to initiate a more advanced form of cooperation and interchange between essentially independent and non-governmental organizations and influential figures in the Palestinian Territories in order to meet the new demands in research and development activities expected following the Oslo agreements. PCG has a good working relationship with the Truman Institute at the Hebrew University and participated with them in an extensive joint research project about the management of water resources. They have been funded by IDRC and the CRB Foundation. We met with the director of PCG, Dr. Khater. I recorded in my field notes that “Dr. Khater voiced strong support for the McGill program and suggested that his group, which is connected to various Palestinian universities and potential practice partners, could be the central partner. We discussed the potential of building a consortium through PCG, which could address the various components of the program. PCG had no objection to working with Israeli partners. Rather, they actively encouraged it. Dr. Khater said that he would discuss it with his chair. We scheduled a further meeting for May 21 that Prof. Nusseibeh would likely join.” I left the meeting encouraged but wary. Intermediaries can be useful in identifying potential partners but shouldn’t be responsible for managing their relationships with McGill. The relationships had to be direct between partner institutions. I was concerned that PCG would expect more. Al-Quds University was established in 1984 as “the only Arab University in Jerusalem.” It came into being by unifying four independent colleges. In 1998, 2,300 students were enrolled in seven faculties: Jurisprudence, Allied Health Professions, Science and Technology, Arts, Medicine, Law, and Qur’an and Islamic Studies. My interest was to establish a direct relationship with the University. I met Sari Nusseibeh, who described Al-Quds as “The Palestinian university that is on the move. At the center of Palestinian politics and situated in Jerusalem, Al-Quds has expanding intellectual influence on the instruments of Palestinian infrastructure.”20 We discussed the proposal in detail. Sari was prepared to commit his university immediately and said he’d like me to do the same. I explained that I could not commit at this time as there were a variety of issues that required clarification. These included “the university’s capacity to deliver in both architecture and social work, clarity as to the goals of the partnership, integration of practice and infrastructure development, and having an impact on Gaza as well as the West Bank.”21 I approached Fawzi Gharabeih for advice. Our relationship had deepened, especially in light of Mohammad’s health crisis. Palestinian universities had offices in Jordan, and University of Jordan President Gharabeih knew the entire network.

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He recommended An-Najah National University in Nablus as the oldest, most prestigious, and largest Palestinian University. In my presence, he picked up the phone and called Dr. Munther Salah, President of An-Najah. Fawzi shared our institutional and personal history, and a meeting was set up for me with An-Najah Vice President Rami Hamdallah (who would later become Prime Minister of the Palestinian Authority) for Saturday, May 16, 1998. Nablus is an ancient city known in the Bible as Shechem. Joseph’s Tomb and Jacob’s Well are located there. Nablus is in the northern West Bank, approximately 39 miles north of Jerusalem, with a population of 126,132.22 Located between Mount Ebal and Mount Gerizim, it is the capital of the Nablus Governorate, a Palestinian commercial and cultural center, and the seat of the Palestinian stockexchange. The internationally renowned Masry family have been financial pillars of the city and of An Najah National University. The population is predominantly Muslim, with small Christian and Samaritan minorities. Later on in my journeys, I would find time to spend with the Samaritans – a unique, small group who claim descent from the tribes of Ephraim and Manasseh (two sons of Joseph) as well as from the Levites. The Samaritans are referred to by Palestinians as “Arab Jews.” While there are no visible Jewish signs on the outside of Samaritan homes and buildings, they were replete with very familiar Jewish symbols and customs inside the home.23 An-Najah National University was established in 1918 as a primary school, renamed An-Najah College in 1941, and became a full-fledged University in 1977. In 1998, An-Najah had 10,000 students.24 The University was shut down by Israeli military order between 1988 and 1991. The University was closely associated with President Yasser Arafat. At the time of my meeting with Rami, it had recently hosted an international conference, “The Role of Higher Education in the Context of an Independent Palestinian State” in which President Arafat, Minister of Higher Education, Dr. Hanan Ashrawi, UNESCO, and the Association of Arab Universities participated.25 I was nervous about travelling to Nablus. Even though I was officially invited, I had never been deep inside Palestine, and I didn’t know what to expect. Who would I turn to if I ran into trouble? Do they use Jordanian dinars or Israeli shekels? I had seen television and written accounts of both settler and Palestinian violence. How would I get there? How would I get out of there? I hired a Palestinian taxi from East Jerusalem to pick me up, drive me to the university, wait for me, and take me back home. No driving for me on this trip. I dressed in my favorite Goodwill summer sports jacket, which I’d bought for $5, put 400 U.S. dollars in my jacket pocket – figuring it as the currency of choice – and got into Mahmud’s taxi on a bright, sunny Saturday morning. The drive through the West Bank brought me face to face for the first time with checkpoints and closures and separate roads for settlers and for ordinary Palestinians, urban areas under the control of the Palestinian Authority, and the roads between them controlled and patrolled by Israeli Authorities; gated settlements on the hilltops overlooking ancient Palestinian villages. While the scenery is inspiring, I felt on high alert and very tense throughout the hour-and-a-half journey.

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Mahmud dropped me off in front of the main gate, where I was met by Nasser Tibi, the Director of Public Relations, who took me on a tour of the campus. The atmosphere was relaxed and bustling with a diversity of religious and more secular students. Every student must perform at least 32 credit hours of voluntary service, and I felt a sense of solidarity and idealism among students about building their dreams and educating themselves for a peaceful life in an independent Palestine. The Palestinian young “warriors” I met were the future architects, social workers, lawyers, engineers, physicians, artists, and philosophers. A memorial for 21 An-Najah University students who were killed during the Intifada stood in the middle of the campus as a stark reminder of the Palestinian experience of Israeli occupation. I never felt threatened or uncomfortable on this campus visit. Rather, my sense was very similar to what I felt on Israeli campuses 30 years ago, which was an overall sense of pride, determination, and commitment to nation building, alongside memorials for the fallen. The enmity toward the Israeli occupation was certainly present, but it was not the main focus or the fuel of campus life. Rather, the dominant expression that I felt then and continue to feel whenever I visit An-Najah concerns the building of an independent and democratic Palestine where young people can pursue their dreams without fear and external, arbitrary limits. I was immediately impressed by Vice President Rami Hamdallah. Approximately 40 years of age, he exemplified a new generation of Palestinian intellectual, committed to education, research, democracy, civil society, peace, and Palestinian independence. With a PhD in linguistics from Lancaster University, Rami was courteous, warm, dignified, and focused. Rami was born in Anabta, a small village in northern Palestine. Our meeting was scheduled to last one hour. It lasted three. We spoke about the kind of relationship one might expect to have with Israel given the present climate. I described the relationship achieved with the University of Jordan and encouraged him to speak with President Gharaibeh about it. Vice President Hamdallah spoke passionately about his desire for peace, the role of universities in advancing it, and his willingness to recommend to his president that An-Najah be the lead Palestinian partner institution. We discussed the strength of An-Najah in architecture and how suitable a fit this could be for the housing portion of the McGill program. I pointed out that they did not have a social work program and that we might need to partner as well with another institution that did have this focus. Rami preferred that An-Najah be the singular partner but suggested a partnership with Bethlehem University, which had a social work program with An-Najah remaining as the lead institution. I said that I was prepared to explore this, but I would continue to meet with other potential partners. We discussed overall governance and agreed to meet again in a week together with President Salah to see if we could come to an agreement in principle. I left the meeting encouraged, relaxed, and positive. Mahmud and his taxi were waiting for me right in front of the main gate. He drove me back to Jerusalem without incident. I paid him in shekels and returned to my flat. Taking off my sports jacket, I reached into the pocket and fumbled around for the $400 I had

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put there. Instead, I found a deep hole in the pocket and no cash. The $5 price for my Goodwill executive sports jacket was likely due to the hole in the pocket, and I inadvertently contributed $400 to the Palestinian economy. I met on Saturday, May 23, 1998 with An-Najah President Dr. Munther Salah, a well-known Palestinian academic leader who had been expelled from Palestine by Israeli military authorities in 1992.26 While the military order was in effect, Dr. Salah’s An-Najah presidential offices operated from Amman. President Salah explained that the international component, the relationship with a prestigious partner such as McGill, and the core issues the program addressed provided scope and depth, and he was prepared to commit his university to be the central Palestinian partner. I said that I could not finalize a partnership until we were clear on how AnNajah could deliver the twin objectives of both capacity building at the university and having a direct impact on social welfare and housing. I asked him what his comfort level was regarding the collaborative aspect with Israel. He stated that he had no difficulty with it. He met with Israelis at international meetings and would do so at home. He must get a special permit to travel to an Israeli University, he said, but no such permission was required for an Israeli university president to visit him. President Salah inquired about the program’s autonomy from governments. I stated that, unlike CIDA bilateral projects, this initiative did not require the approval of governments. Rather, the project recognized the value of academic leadership to promote civil society and peace building through its own channels, and therefore we had latitude in the choice of our partner institutions. President Salah supported this view and suggested that governmental involvement would certainly slow it down and might lead to partnerships struck for reasons other than the substance of the program. President Salah and Vice President Hamdallah described their experience in leading international consortia with other university partners. They were prepared to cooperate in this way with Bethlehem University. I was pressed repeatedly to declare An-Najah University as our principal partner in Palestine, but I could not do so. I said that these had been very good meetings and that I was hopeful a partnership would be established, but it did not appear to me that any one partner could deliver each of the components of the program, the results for which McGill was accountable. The consortium with Bethlehem University was a possible step in this direction, but there were other issues such as being able to carry the program forward in the West Bank, Palestinian East Jerusalem, and Gaza as well as the expertise required in both social work and architecture. I said that I had similar discussions with the President of Al-Quds University and had come to the same conclusion. There may be a need to have more than one Palestinian partner, each with a bilateral relationship with McGill, and I asked him to think about this as an option. I did not anticipate this competition and alliances among Palestinian academic leaders. In retrospect, this is not surprising. It happens everywhere and particularly more so where the Palestinian entity is divided into three separate

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lands and lacks the institutional infrastructure of statehood in an environment of high resource scarcity. An-Najah and Al-Quds have relationships with Bethlehem University and are prepared to include them in a consortium. Both had the ear of President Arafat; both claimed no objection to participating in this program where Israelis also participated in bilateral relationships with McGill. The president of the University of Jordan preferred An-Najah and called the president on my behalf. He did not, however, object to Al-Quds, were it to be chosen as a partner. On the other hand, An-Najah is in the Palestinian heartland; it is older, bigger, and responds to a broader cross section of Palestinian society. I was under considerable pressure to choose one or the other as a lead partner. I declined to do so. I reminded An-Najah that it could not serve Palestinian residents of East Jerusalem and reminded Al-Quds it couldn’t serve the northern parts of Palestine where An-Najah was a central player. I asked both to think about each having an independent, bilateral agreement with McGill without either one being subject to the other or to any other institution in the program. I said, “I am looking for the best of both worlds. I believe in a two-state solution.” *** I felt very at home and connected to Jordan in these days as I had visited it more than a dozen times in a few years. But the connection I felt was deeper – especially the events that brought us together around Mohammad’s illness. It was easy for us to forgo formalities and get down to pressing work. Between Fawzi Gharabeih and Sami Khaswneih – and at times with both – we met continuously for eight hours.27 We reviewed the activities of Mohammad Maani and Hmoud Olimat at McGill that year. Hmoud Olimat emerged as a star in the fellowship program, and this was well-received by both the university president and the vice president. We discussed the grave health situation of Mohammad Maani, and they agreed that Mohammad stay at McGill until the end of July in order to provide him with the academic and practice experience he missed due to his illness. Looking toward the coming year, we reviewed the proposed research and field work activities planned for Professors Olimat and Maani once they were back in Jordan. Two research projects were envisioned. Hmoud would apply the work of the McGill–Jordan Social Work Curriculum Committee to the realities of the University and to Jordan as a whole. Mohammad would survey the current market regarding public and voluntary organizations where social work practice takes place We agreed that Hmoud and Mohammad’s field work would be to develop a practice teaching center that would become a center of excellence to train future professionals that would also provide direct service to the community. The objective would be to have the practice center in place by September of 1999 At my previous meetings in Amman, we agreed to postpone the inauguration of the social work program to February 1999, but the university was under considerable pressure to begin the program – particularly due to the raised expectations given the program by the university, Queen Noor, and Crown Prince Hassan. Vice

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President Khasawneih recommended that the social work program commence as originally scheduled in September 1998. Sami Khaswneih proposed that students could start with courses already offered such as a course on the changing Jordanian society and its impact on families, and, in addition, Professors Olimat and Maani could do some teaching. Add to it a few intensive seminars given by McGill visiting faculty, and the program could be on its way. I asked Sami if he would elect to have surgery from someone who had only studied medical theory. I explained that it was important that the field component be parallel to course work to integrate it with academic courses. In the end and with great reluctance, it was agreed we would wait until September 1999 to inaugurate the program. This discussion was the first time in three years where we had a fundamental disagreement. Sami Khaswneih commented “that I was being very tough on an old friend.” I responded, “that one is only tough with people and ideas that are very important and where one really cares.” Philosophically, Fawzi Gharabeih added that “the institution will outlive us all, and, in that perspective, waiting another year is ultimately of no great import.” “More importantly is to make certain that the program has sure footing, solid ground, and will be of high quality.” Fawzi Gharabeih and Sami Khaswneih agreed to join the International Advisory Board and the executive committee respectively. *** In Israel, Barbara Epstein and I met with Avrum Burg, chairman of the executive of the Jewish Agency, to resolve a bureaucratic issue that had left Community Advocacy with a financial shortfall. Federation/CJA Montreal completed its three-year funding cycle for Genesis Israel, commissioned an evaluation to determine future funding, and received a very positive report. Barbara presented to the Federation executive. The response was positive and upbeat, and Barbara requested an allocation of $150,000 for the year. Having dramatically reduced its allocation to Israel, the Federation felt unable to designate any money for specific programs that would divert funds from its already reduced commitment to UIA and the Jewish Agency. Avrum Burg quickly pointed out that Montreal’s contribution had shrunk to $8 million from $14 million a few years ago. He knew about Community Advocacy, however, and he very much supported what it did. He proposed that the solution was to have Community Advocacy included in Project 2000 in the future and agreed to support us to ensure that this would happen on the Israeli side. Barbara and I talked about the second-year field placements for Noga and Amal. Noga Porat would operate out of the Community Advocacy office in Jerusalem and focus on housing issues and Canadian solutions that might work in Jerusalem. Amal Sana would be at Genesis Beersheba and apply advocacy and empowerment techniques to unrecognized Bedouin villages. The idea was to “put Genesis on the back of a truck” and bring it to both unrecognized villages and nomadic Bedouin encampments. Amal will be supervised by Hadas Barzelai – our

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first Ben Gurion social work field student and by 1998 the director of Community Advocacy/Genesis Beersheba. *** On May 28, 1998, 200 people packed the grand ballroom of the venerated McGill Faculty Club to celebrate the MMEP closing ceremony – marking the successful completion of the fellows’ first year. The event was chaired by Chancellor Gretta Chambers. Minister Sheila Finestone spoke followed by the CIDA Minister, Hon. Diane Marleau, who made the official announcement of the $3,000,000 grant. Each fellow spoke about their experience at McGill. The audience included fellow McGill students, mentors, tutors, and field work supervisors, faculty members, McGill Governors, ambassadors and consuls, television and radio crews, and members of the press. It was an inspiring day. Despite it all, we had gotten somewhere. We had moved ahead by crossing boundaries and were about to embark on our next very large step. I gave the closing speech from which I have excerpted: Our Jordanian and Israeli initiatives joined together as we hoped they would through you – the Inaugural graduate fellows in civil society and peace building. And for this we have come together to recognize your accomplishments. There is very much to celebrate today. First and foremost, we celebrate your accomplishments as a group. Transplanted from your homes, families, colleagues and friends, each of you arrived at McGill to learn techniques, skills and ideas about building civil societies and building peace within one’s country. Each of you arrived prepared to test yourselves, to see if prior misconceptions and stereotypes about Israelis and Arabs, Muslims and Jews, might be put aside to see instead common ground with compatible visions. To make such moves with very short notice requires a great deal of courage and a great deal of faith. I would not be surprised to know that each of you experienced some time during the year some questioning of faith – certainly, but not exclusively, during the January ice storm. This experience that brought together these individuals and their families – a hamulah of 17 individuals spanning four decades in one group – was driven by the real belief that academic institutions are uniquely positioned to provide leadership in peace building, and can have a profound impact on the development of civil societies. Indeed, McGill has shown remarkable leadership in giving birth to the McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building. First the trip by our Chancellor Gretta Chambers in 1996. More recently, the extraordinary visit by McGill Principal Bernard Shapiro, specifically to promote this program. . . . I know of no other academic institution which has demonstrated in action the quality, scope and depth of McGill’s commitment to these values. Six faculty members in social work joined together to form a curriculum committee to advance the Jordan program, retired faculty lent their support as mentors to the fellows, the practice community has opened their doors to show how Canada addresses critical social ills and its programs to safeguard rights and empower the disadvantaged.

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This inaugural program that you entered only 10 months ago was premised on the belief that one can develop a program which respects the individual needs, interests, sensitivities and boundaries of each person and, at the same time, provide opportunities to identify commonalities, to become colleagues and cousins, if not friends – if not brothers and sisters in a common endeavor of giving leadership to the advancement of civil society. We have done our utmost to give you the tools we have to advance skills which you will now bring back to your home countries to apply them in practice to your organizations and institutions. And, throughout this year, we have learned from each of you, your cultures and experiences, which you shared with us have enriched McGill, MCHRAT and the School of Social Work. Through open dialogue and people-to people understanding, through the simple magic of life events, through children, or a Christmas concert of the Montreal Jubilation Gospel Choir, by sharing holidays, customs, and ideas – by rallying together to support one another during illness and loss, you, and we among you, have established a bond – a powerful force which no border can stop. You have become a powerful metaphor for what is possible, and I am convinced you will spread that message back home next year. Prior to McGill, you had not known each other. Yet, where each of you lives is no further than a two-hour car ride from each other. Two hours that took fifty years to traverse, a road ultimately connected through McGill, a road so littered with fear and misconception, with borders and landmines, with terrible loss of life on both sides of the road and both sides of the river, this road now becomes a highway of respect, hope, understanding and common purpose. Sheila Goldbloom – Amal’s mentor and my colleague – introduced me to Kappy Flanders after the event. I had not met Kappy before but knew of her. She was a member of the McGill Board of Governors, was among the key leaders for palliative care, a philanthropist, a well-positioned member of the Jewish community, and originally British. Kappy is direct, speaks her mind, and is often in the vanguard of promoting ideas and programs that are not safe or mainstream.28 Kappy had lived in Israel and had a keen interest in the situation of the Palestinian minority and the Bedouins in particular. She met with Amal, and we had a few discussions. Kappy then funded our Bedouin outreach project which, in a few months, would have Amal take Community Advocacy on the back of a truck and drive out to remote unrecognized Bedouin villages and empower women to advocate for their rights. It was time to return to the region with architect Vikram Bhatt, finalize partnerships, recruit fellows, and begin the next chapter.

Notes 1 Email correspondence April 30, 2018. 2 Tier 1 proposal 1998. CIVIL SOCIETY AND PEACE BUILDING: Housing, Human Rights and Social Development Program for the Middle East

132 3 4 5 6

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8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23

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Tier 1 proposal, Op. cit. Letter Torczyner to Minister Marleau, January 18, 1998. Official meeting summary with Minister Diane Marleau, January 20, 1998. Meeting with the Honorable Dianne Marleau, Minister for CIDA and La Francophonie, January 20, 1998. Attendees: The Honourable Minister Dianne Marleau; The Honourable Sheila Finestone; Helene Giroux, Senior Departmental Assistant, CIDA; Denis Poitvin, Country Program Manager Middle East, CIDA; Jonathan Laine, Senior Development Officer, CIDA; Prof. Jim Torczyner, McGill University; Prof. Vikram Bhatt, McGill University. Prof. Hmoud Al-Olimat, University of Jordan and McGill Fellow; Prof. Mohammad Maani, University of Jordan and McGill Fellow; Merav Moshe, Ben Gurion University and McGill Fellow; Noga Porat, Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel and McGill Fellow; Amal Sana, Rights of Bedouin Women and McGill Fellow; Jonathan Goldbloom, communication strategist. Tu BiShvat is a Jewish holiday occurring on the 15th day of the Hebrew month of Shevat. It is also called “Rosh HaShanah La’Ilanot,” literally “New Year of the Trees.” In contemporary Israel, the day is celebrated as an ecological awareness day, and trees are planted in celebration. Richard Cloward and Francis Fox Piven, Poor People’s Movements: Why They Succeed, How They Fail, New York, NY: Vintage Press, 1979. Amal El Sana-Alhjooj; Managing the tensions facing indigenous social change organizations that combine service and advocacy: The case of the Arab Jewish Center for Equality, Empowerment and Cooperation in the Negev, Israel. Hamzawy: Civil Society in the Middle East, Berlin, 2003. www.theglobeandmail.com/news/world/israeli-report-names-canadian-charity-assource-of-funds/article4159696/. The Globe and Mail, February 1, 2000. www.iataskforce.org/entities/view/183. Letter Jim Torczyner to Fawzi Gharabeih, April 16, 1998. Actually, this phrase, “getting normal people on both sides to change the abnormal situation of occupation” I heard from Sami Kilani, whom you will meet later in this chapter. Much of this and the following account is excerpted from my field notes – Torczyner; Progress Report: May 5–May 28, 1998. Montreal, MCHRAT. Progress Report. Op. cit. p. 7. Progress Report. Op. cit. p. 7. Op. cit. p 10. Op. cit. p. 10. Op. cit. p. 11. PCBS07, 2007 Locality Population Statistics, Ramallah, Archived December 10, 2010, at the Wayback Machine. . Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics (PCBS). The Samaritans are adherents of Samaritanism, a religion closely related to Judaism. Samaritans believe that their worship, which is based on the Samaritan Pentateuch, is the true religion of the ancient Israelites from before the Babylonian captivity, preserved by those who remained in the Land of Israel, as opposed to Judaism, which they see as a related but altered and amended religion by those returning from the Babylonian captivity. The Samaritans believe that Mount Gerizim was the original Holy Place of Israel from the time that Joshua conquered Canaan. The major issue between Jews and Samaritans has always been the location of the Chosen Place to worship God: Mount Zion in Jerusalem according to the Jewish faith or Mount Gerizim according to the Samaritan faith. Once a large community, the Samaritan population shrank significantly in the wake of the bloody suppression of the Samaritan Revolts in 529 CE and 555 CE against the

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Byzantine Empire. As of January 1, 2017, the population was 796, divided between Qiryat Luza on Mount Gerizim and the city of Holon, just outside Tel Aviv. 24 In 1998 An Najah offered bachelors, masters and doctoral degrees in faculties of arts, science, economics and administrative sciences, education and psychology, engineering (including architecture), Islamic law, agriculture, fine arts, pharmacy, and law. 25 Currently, there are around 20,000 students enrolled at An-Najah’s four campuses: the New Campus, the Old Campus, Hisham Hijjawi College of Technology, Khadouri Campus in Tulkarem (which offers programs in the fields of agriculture and veterinary medicine) and An-Najah National Hospital. www.najah.edu/en/about/annu-facts. 26 The New York Times reported this as follows: The president of the largest university in the West Bank was expelled from the Israeli-occupied territory today for refusing to sign a statement promising not to provide any assistance to the Palestine Liberation Organization. Munther Salah, the president of Najah University here, crossed into Jordan late this morning after telling a news conference that Israeli occupation authorities had embarked on “a well-planned strategy to destroy the infrastructure of Palestinian society” in the West Bank. Salah was the 16th faculty member at Najah to be expelled in the dispute over the anti-PLO pledge. Israeli authorities are requiring foreign teachers at the three West Bank universities to sign the statement before they receive new work permits, and deporting those who refuse when their work permits expire. Salah, although born in Nablus, holds a Jordanian passport and is classified as a foreigner. The New York Times “Israel Expels President Of West Bank University,” October 22, 1982 27 Excerpted from Progress Report May 5–May 22, 1998. 28 Kappy Flanders was awarded the Order of Canada in 2014 for “her commitment to the causes of palliative care and public education.” She passed away as the book was in press.

5

You don’t have to love your neighbor – just accept that you have one A regional program with Israeli, Jordanian, and Palestinian partners takes form

In June 1998, I traveled back and forth among Israel, Palestine, and Jordan to establish a framework for an inaugural meeting of all the partners at McGill. An Najah and Al-Quds University agreed to be equal, independent partners in the program – each with a different reach within Palestine. The University of Jordan and the Jordan Red Crescent would represent Jordan. Along with Community Advocacy and Ben Gurion University in Israel, the network of institutional partners – each having a bilateral relationship with McGill University – was established – representing a regional thrust to rights-based practice and peace building. I still sought an academic partner in Gaza, but my attempts failed. I came with a message: “You don’t have to love your neighbor; you just have to accept that you have one.” None of the academic institutions we met with in Gaza were prepared to work in a program that included Israel or with a university that had independent links with Israel. Unfortunately, considering its continuing deterioration, we still have not been able to involve an academic partner from Gaza. Professor Vikram Bhatt, the McGill expert in innovative architecture, joined me in the region to see our work, meet our partners on the ground, and recruit fellows for the housing portion of the program. Time was of the essence to obtain visas and study permits and ensure their arrival in Montreal in August. We sought candidates with a demonstrated commitment to the advancement of social justice in their own countries, with proven academic abilities in a related discipline, who were sufficiently proficient in English, and who were open to be part of a program in which the “other” would be a full participant, would be prepared to pack up on a moment’s notice, and had that particular spark, energy, and passion to put heart and soul into this work. We believed that from among these fellows would emerge innovators, organizers, and future movers in their countries. Each fellowship is a substantial investment of time and money – costing $100,000 during the two-year fellowship. In the future and with more time we would recruit through our growing country networks, advertise in local newspapers, and have candidates go through several rounds of interviews – a preliminary screening of applications, a first interview with our partners, and a second interview in which I would participate together with our partner institutions. Fellows sign contracts to return home in the second year and can only obtain their

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degrees by completing their research and field work in their home countries. The fellows’ contract obligates them to continue their work at our partner institution for between four and six years – should there be an appropriate position available. We believed, and it proved to be correct, that this is one way to avoid the classic “brain drain” of people enjoying a fellowship in Canada and not returning to contribute to their home countries. This first time, we could only rely on our partners to identify candidates, while they were all just being introduced to rights-based practice, and many were first learning about social work as an academic discipline. Consequently, their networks were understandably sparse. In Israel, two of the fellows we selected would not go on to the second year – in each case for personal reasons. Yoav Weinberg and Ghada Abu Jaber completed the program and went on to have impressive careers. Yoav, an architect, focused on minimum-cost housing with Vikram and, in his second year, developed housing programs at Community Advocacy. Later, Yoav would become chair of BIMKOM: Planners for Planning Rights, an organization of architects and planners working to help disadvantaged communities. Ghada Abu Jaber completed her service at Community Advocacy and then became the director of the Association of Women Against Violence (WAV), established in 1992 by female Palestinian professionals and social activists in Israel who were concerned with the increasing number of women and girls in the Palestinian community needing assistance and protection as victims of gender-based violence. The organization established the first battered women’s shelters in the Arab community in Israel. The University of Jordan presented four male faculty members as its candidates. Three of the four were members of very powerful Jordanian tribes – having recently produced prime ministers and senior members of the military. These were Musa Tarawneh, Abdel Kareem Al-Fayez, and Salah Al-Louzi. The fourth, Wael Al-Azhari, an architect, was more junior but had a keen interest in joining the field of social work with architecture. Neither Musa Tarawneh, who taught architecture but was principally engaged in private practice, or Abdul Karen El-Fayez – with a PhD from Eastern Mississippi State – had the inclination or background for community practice, but the University of Jordan stated that these were the only candidates they had, as most faculty members held PhDs and were not interested in studying abroad for a master’s degree. Salah Al-Louzi was more adventurous. Salah had a PhD from Michigan State University and an MA from Ohio State University – both in sociology. He had lived in urban centers in the United States, experienced multicultural life, and seen social issues firsthand. Salah had energy and a streetwise style and liked to be out in the community. He would become instrumental in establishing our practice center in Amman. We sought two fellows each from Al-Quds University in East Jerusalem and An-Najah University in Nablus. The candidates first recommended by Al-Quds were connected to senior people at the university but lacked experience, commitment, and language skills. One candidate, for example, groomed and dressed to

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the hilt – resembling more a male model on a billboard advertising cell phones than a social activist – claimed he had no experience and not much interest. He said that he had never been inside a social agency or community center, and that his only volunteer experience was supervising olive pickers to obtain university credit for voluntary service. A senior person in the university administration called me repeatedly to advocate for him, but I held firm. I also held firm about interviewing female candidates, as every candidate presented was male. In the end, we agreed on Ziad (Mohammad) Faraj, who had a social work degree from Bethlehem University and had held senior positions with the General Union of Disabled Palestinians, U.N.R.W.A., and a Palestinian rehabilitation program for ex-detainees. We selected as well Najwa Silwadi, who had a social work degree from Al-Quds and had worked at the Ramallah Women’s Center and the Palestinian Red Crescent. They would establish the Al-Quds Community Action Center in East Jerusalem. An-Najah chose an architect and a very well-known poet, community organizer, and peace activist. Khairi Marei, professor of architecture, had a PhD from Hanover University in Germany. In his second year back in Nablus, Khairi established a unique housing program that renovates the most dilapidated houses with the participation of the residents and voluntary efforts at very low cost. This program became a model for the Jordanian and Al-Quds centers. I was having a conversation with Rami Hamdallah in Nablus about the importance of nonviolence and linking development to peace building, when he smiled and said, “I think we have the right person for you.” He picked up his phone, reached Sami Kilani at home, and 20 minutes later I met Sami in Rami’s office. It was a fateful connection – the beginning of a professional bond and deep friendship that endure to this day. Meeting Sami Kilani1 and his joining the program were remarkable good fortune for the MMEP, for An- Najah, and for me personally. Sami was born in Ya’abid – a rural village near Jenin in Northern Palestine. His father, Mohammed, was a small-scale tobacco farmer. Sami was 15 years old when Israel won the 1967 war. Within a few years, Sami was arrested for writing placards “Palestine is Arab” and “Away with Occupation.” His father had to sign a guarantee with the Israeli authorities that Sami would not participate in future demonstrations. Instead, Sami left for Jordan, where he obtained a BSc in physics from the University of Jordan in 1975. He returned to Palestine in 1976 and taught physics at An-Najah while studying for a master’s in science education. In 1977, Sami was arrested for “incitement,” a charge, Sami said, “that has stuck with me all my life.” He was sentenced to three years in prison for writing poems and articles promoting a Palestinian state. While in prison, his father passed away, and the funeral was held two days prior to his release date. Rather than giving him early release, as described by Wallach, Israeli authorities accompanied him handcuffed to his father’s funeral and then returned him to prison to serve out the remaining two days of his sentence. In prison Sami used his talent as a writer to speak to and for Palestinians. Sami became a columnist for the Jerusalem Daily Newspaper Al-Fajr. A year after his

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release, he published his first book of short stories in 1982 entitled Al Zataar alAkdbar – The Green Thyme – understood as a metaphor for a prickly thorn in Israel’s side. He was arrested and ordered not to write again. A year later, he published a second book. Newly married, he was arrested and put under “town arrest” for three years. He could not leave his village and had to report regularly to the Israeli district commander, whom Sami refers to in his writings as Uncle Moshe. In mid-November 1987 – weeks before the outbreak of the Intifada – Sami was again arrested for “incitement” and spent the next two years in various Israeli prisons where he was named an “Amnesty prisoner of conscience.” His brother Ahmed was shot and killed at a demonstration during this time, and his first child, Zoya, was born. Emerging from prison in 1990 at age 38, having spent more than five years under various forms of captivity, having endured the loss of close loved ones while in prison, having missed out on important life events, one would not be surprised had Sami become an angry and bitter man. Rather, Sami became more determined to struggle for Palestinian independence without violence and toward the establishment of a two-state solution. He co-founded the Israeli-Palestinian Dialogue Group, Nablus-West Jerusalem and was central to it until his departure for Canada and McGill. During the same time, he joined the Israeli–Palestinian Writers Dialogue Group. Sami wrote widely acclaimed segments for joint productions of Israeli and Palestinian Sesame Street broadcasts. Two boys meet. One is Palestinian, the other Israeli. They do not speak the same language. One holds a football and the other an onion. They both like football. Neither likes onions, and the process of building relations unfolds. Sami was elected as an executive member of the Palestinian Democratic Union (FIDA) in 1991 and was a Delegate to the Middle East Peace Talks, Madrid Conference in 1991, and the Washington Bilateral Talks, 1991–93. He was appointed to the Palestinian National Council in 1996. I was and remain deeply impressed and moved by Sami’s authenticity, depth, and resolve. A few of Sami’s insights I have appropriated: Regarding Israel and Palestine, Sami says “We are condemned to live together, so we must work it out” and, in terms of Palestine, “I will struggle for an independent Palestine as if it was already democratic. And, I will struggle for a democratic Palestine as if it was already independent.” Upon his return from Canada, Sami founded the Nablus center at An-Najah that became a flagship for the entire program and which he directed through 2004. He returned to McGill in 2005 to study for his PhD and write a dissertation about the center, which won the McGill School of Social Work PhD prize and was published within a year. A core member of the management committee, a supervisor of our students in Palestine and in Jordan, and a key activist in the Palestinian non-violence cause, Sami became a close personal friend – a bond mutually felt within minutes of our first meeting. Sami and my mentor Avner remind me of each other. Both imprisoned for using the pen and nonviolence to struggle for their people’s independence, both

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poets and organizers, both authentic visionaries and both equally committed to nonviolence and coexistence. Jim Olwell, a six-foot, New York-born Irish community organizer and poet who will be introduced to this story later in this chapter, shares similar qualities, hence the bond between him (big Jim) and Sami. But I am getting ahead of myself in this story. How did we get there; how did we deal with expected and unexpected issues that arose throughout the program? It began with a rush of arrivals in late August and some even in early September – days before classes were to begin. Altogether, the group of eight men and four women – a ratio we would successfully reverse in future cohorts – included 13 children, five spouses, and two grandmothers. Adding Merav and her three children, we had assembled quite a gathering of 36 people in all.2 Each fellow and their families were picked up at the airport by ICAN staff and volunteers. Their rapid, hectic entry into Canada, Montreal, and McGill could not happen without the steady flow of ICAN volunteers and fellow students who came by to help. They rushed around from place to place, lining up apartments for fellows to view, collecting donations of furniture and winter clothing, and helping the fellows negotiate buses, metros, and languages. And, although hectic, it promoted a sense of solidarity: We were in it together and we would get through these difficulties together. Promoting solidarity was a high priority. “Two nights after most of the group had arrived a dinner was held. Following that, regular monthly, and sometimes more frequent, social events were held.”3 Dinners for our group of now 40 people often took place at the Taj Mahal restaurant in downtown Montreal. Reasonably priced, it offered a large Indian buffet serving a delicious variety of vegetarian, fish, fowl, and beef dishes (but no pork). In late September, the group went apple picking amid Quebec’s spectacular fall foliage. At the end of September, Gretta Chambers hosted a welcoming reception for the fellows that was attended by about 100 people from the McGill Board of governors, faculty and administration, the diplomatic core, the Arab and Jewish communities, and community groups. In October, we held a Halloween party for our community’s children. In December, we enjoyed the Christmas concert of the renowned Montreal Jubilation Gospel Choir held at the historic St. James United Church. Exchanges ensued with faculty and staff hosting small dinner parties and wonderful conversations. We were attentive to the challenges facing each of the fellows in interacting daily in a formal program with “the other.” Curious, cautious, and with little opportunity at home to engage the “other,” each fellow had misconceptions to overcome. For the Israeli fellows, it was their first experience of living in a country and enrolled in a program where they were not the majority. For some of the Jordanian men, adjusting to life on one’s own and without family and being in a program that encourages risk-taking was difficult. It was challenging for Palestinians and Israelis to engage each other on an equal basis. For quite a while, Jordanians and Palestinians did not want to be photographed with Israelis because of fears how this might be used against them by extremist fringes at home. The occupation itself was a source of profound frustration for the fellows.

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We sought to create social and intellectual space where fellows could engage each other to the extent that they wished to do so. We were learning how to approach this. We had no handbook of how to do it other than our basic instincts as community organizers – forged by respect, authenticity, and creating opportunities for reciprocity. We converted a big room in the basement of the social work building as common space for the fellows, with workstations and computers, comfortable donated couches, and an assortment of tables that we would rearrange to accommodate large meetings. In addition to divergent historical narratives, fellows had varying family responsibilities and lifestyles and were enrolled in two different degree programs with different demands. Time was set aside for weekly meetings to plan schedules and discuss emerging issues. Two courses were required for all fellows: Inequality, Human Rights Advocacy and Peace Building: Modalities of Social Change, which I co-taught in the first term with Vikram. The seminar focused on ideologies and theories of empowerment, peace building and civil society within the framework of international human rights law as well as issues related to housing rights, access to housing, and alternative housing strategies for low-income populations. In the winter term, I taught Community Practice, which focused on the design of the future practice centers by thinking through alternative locations for housing the center in their city; the political, economic, social and cultural context of the community they would be serving; the organization sponsoring them; and their society at large. Two field tutorials dovetailed with this course largely provided by three former long-term staff of Project Genesis. Jim Olwell was the main organizer at Project Genesis for a number of decisive years during which, among other achievements, he was the key organizer in establishing the Côte-des-Neiges Community Council, in establishing new public housing, and in electing citizens coalitions representing the community’s diversity to community service boards. Subsequently, working at a CLSC in the NôtreDame-de-Grâce neighborhood, he founded Women Aware – an organization to counteract violence against women and Black Star – a big brother program in the Black community designed to encourage identification with adult Black men as role models. Jim was a New Yorker, my age, and formerly worked at VISTA. Jim is also a poet and an actor and one of the founders of the Irish Arts Center in New York City. There he met Simone, a French-Canadian from Quebec, moved to Montreal, and became perfectly bilingual and a known presence in both the anglophone and francophone organizing and poetry communities. Jim met with the fellows, discussed the organizations they would visit, and then followed with debriefing sessions to discuss what they had seen and learned. Jim brought the group to visit Black Star, Women Aware, NDG 2000 – a community forum – and Info Depot, an organization dealing with issues of hunger and access to rights. In 1999–2000 Jim made three three-week trips to the region to provide direct field supervision for the fellows and consultation to our institutional partners. Marcie Klein directed, built, and managed the Project Genesis storefront for more than a decade and had visited Community Advocacy. Her module titled:

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“Volunteers, Advocacy and Empowerment” contained workshops on “the role of the volunteer in a community-based organization”; “volunteers as advocates”; “development of training programs”; “volunteer orientation, supervision, recruitment and screening”, and, in the final session issues of volunteer recognition, motivation, and termination. David Faguy, Executive Director of Project Genesis from 1983–87, focused on “Practice Center Organization and Management,” examining “Mission, goals, and planning,” “Management cycles, organizational structure, and by-laws” and a session on “Board of directors and board committees.” Jim Olwell engaged the fellows again in June to discuss their approach to setting up a center in their community and detailed tasks that they were to undertake prior to his first visit in October 1999. Each group produced a tentative outline for their institution about the process and tasks they would undertake in 1999–2000. The fellows pursued different field interests. The architecture MMEP fellows were exposed to a wide variety of social housing, including cooperatives, public housing, third sector and NGO, permitting us to have a dialogue about housing trends in North America in relation to their own experience as architects in the Middle East.4 Yoav Weinberg and Musa Tarawneh from the architecture program were joined by Yifat Reuveni in the social work program and volunteered in an innovative project in the Mohawk community of Khanawake seeking to re-introduce ecological values and environmental concerns based upon traditional Mohawk ways into an analysis of local resident’s housing needs. They presented their findings to the Mohawk Council in May 1999. The seven social work students were assigned faculty advisors with expertise in substantive areas of interest to the fellows.5 Mentors, tutors, and English classes were organized. The fellows took eight courses during their first year – six were required, and they were limited to two elective courses. Over the course of the year the fellows by and large found their place with each other. We had prepared ourselves for friction among them. The process of the fellows learning about each other, absorbing each other’s narratives, and simply coexisting in a daily, routine way defused a lot of anger by gradually disarming the ignorance that fueled it. Overall, although hesitant, the fellows were curious about each other. They carried the program’s message through public speaking. Salah spoke at an Orthodox and at a Reform synagogue along with Sami and Merav. These three not only bonded but publicly acknowledged their connections with each other and what it meant. Merav and Salah spoke at the Syrian Lebanese Community Association. Yifat, Ziad, and Wael presented to the McGill alumni in Ottawa. Yifat, Sami, Salah, Merav, and I spoke at Canadian Friends of Tel Aviv University, Fellows spoke at the public arena in the city of Côte-Saint-Luc and at churches.

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Palestinian and Jordanian fellows were eager to see what the inside of synagogues looked like, as were Israelis to discover more about Islam and cultural traditions. Together they found more cultural commonalities than differences. Sami Kilani’s wife, Nuha, broke her leg in several places on the escalator in the Montreal Metro in November and required surgery and hospitalization. Sami and his three young children – Zoya about 10 years old; Mohammad, about 8 and Dima, only 4 – were now on their own with Sami. Merav came over to Sami’s the first night and cooked her famous chicken dish – now renowned in Nablus. I followed the next night with my homemade spaghetti sauce and salad. We helped in whatever way we could, and the bond established between Merav and Sami – academically, in practice, and as two authentic peace builders deepened. Later in the year, Merav invited Sami to her daughter’s bat mitzvah at the Reconstructionist Synagogue. Sami arrived with me but could not bring himself to put on a kippa as this represented to him the face of settlers claiming his people’s land. Sheila Goldbloom mentored Najwa Silwadi, who arrived in Montreal with her four children and, for a time, with her mother. This was Sheila’s second experience in mentoring an Arab woman, and her help extended to enlisting her husband – a former pediatrician and Quebec cabinet minister – to assist with medical issues concerning Najwa’s children. Sheila described her experience as follows: During the past year and a half, I have had the rare privilege of getting to know two of the Middle Eastern Fellows: Amal El-Sana and Najwa Silwadi. These two very special women have taught me a great deal and inspired my admiration. Their courage in coming to Canada to be part of this program, in undertaking to study in English despite having limited experience with the language and the patterns of life in Canada, has been quite extraordinary. Theirs is a remarkable odyssey; for me, they have been friends in addition to being students. During our encounters, we discussed their practice experience in the Negev (desert) and in the Palestinian Territory. We talked about cultural and individual values, and about the impact of tradition on practice as well as larger social policy issues. Themes of empowerment, civil rights, family structure, the roles and rights of women, access to services, and outreach were constantly on the agenda. I can honestly and feelingly state that my relationships with Amal and Najwa have been among the highlights of my retirement.6 What we did not expect, however, was the intensity of conflicts within each group. The Jordanians did not get along with each other, nor did the Palestinians at Al-Quds or An-Najah, and the Israelis also had difculties with each other. The source of these tensions was not ideological but personal – with competition over status and future positions at the practice centers.

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Among the Jordanians, Salah, clearly the most articulate and upfront of the four, would defer to Abdel Karim El Fayez, who was less able than Salah to represent the program but insisted on being recognized as head and spokesman of the Jordanian group due to his seniority. Salah and Abdul Kareem would band together to verbally pound Musa Tarawneh, who was an architect without a PhD, which, at one point, came with threats of violence. Separated by the degree program in which they were enrolled, relative peace was managed for the duration of their studies. Wael, the fourth Jordanian fellow, was much junior and of Palestinian origins and kept his head down. Among the Palestinians from An-Najah, Sami, given his background, was the natural person to lead the practice center, held the trust of the president of AnNajah University, and was widely respected in the community. Active in international peace building, Sami has an excellent command of English. On the other hand, Khairi had a PhD and was far more senior at An-Najah University. He spoke little English. Tension emerged between them as to who would direct the center. Sami emerged as the clear leader, and Khairi returned to academia. At Al-Quds University, neither Ziad nor Najwa came from the ranks of the university – academic or administrative. Their future positions at Al-Quds, their roles at the center, and their working conditions at Al-Quds were not yet fully settled. While it seemed to Jim Olwell and me that Najwa had the skills and abilities to direct the storefront and that Ziad had the community organizing skills, both Ziad and Najwa zeroed in on the future director’s position, which was envisioned to be shared and not necessarily full-time during the initiation stage. The sharpest discord, however, was between Ziad and Sami. Ziad is from the Dheisheh refugee camp adjacent to Bethlehem. He had also been detained by Israeli authorities and pointed to a crease on his forehead, which he said he got as a result of an Israeli soldier’s bullet which grazed his skin. Ziad spoke often about his victimization but did so with a lot more anger than Sami, who had endured considerably more. The discord was aggravated by ambiguity about status and authority. On the one hand, we related to the fellows as full partners – engaged in a joint effort to establish new organizations to empower the disadvantaged. On the other hand, they were students – studying in an academic program who, upon their return, would be employees and accountable to our institutional partners where their future roles had not yet been defined. I did not anticipate the intensity of the competition as to who would be appointed director at the centers, nor did I understand how the ambiguity of the situation would fan these flames. They were not returning to existing centers and structures but were to create them, while, at the same time, the universities would determine how they would be accountable and to whom. Hopefully this would become more settled as new centers took shape. Future fellows would return to an organizational structure with clear programs and staff roles, and we hoped this would minimize competition and personal conflict within each group.

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Offering two separate graduate degrees within the same program proved to be a difficult fit. The social work program is practice-oriented, while the architecture program is thesis-focused. The requisite courses place very different demands within each degree program. Three of the four architecture fellows already had degrees in architecture, two had master’s degrees, and one had a PhD. While the minimum cost housing concentration afforded them opportunities to visit housing programs in Canada, there was little added value for them to obtain another degree in architecture. Rather, as expressed by Wael, it would be better to focus on social work and advocacy skills and apply them to housing solutions for disadvantaged communities. Following our internal evaluation, we decided that all future fellows would be enrolled in the master’s program in social work, and we would recruit candidates from a broad range of professional backgrounds, architecture in particular. Overall, we had done well in this first year. Fellows completed their program at McGill steeped in new information and with knowledge of rights-based practice experienced in different community settings. The fellows served as ambassadors of good will and peace building, became comfortable with the “other” more so than with each other, and reached a diverse range of Montreal audiences. *** In August 1998, I received two official announcements: Fawzi Gharabeih was appointed Jordan’s Minister of Education. Sami Khaswneih continued as Vice President, academic, at the University of Jordan, and Dr. Walid Maani – a professor of neurosurgery – was appointed president of the university. I received a second official letter informing me that Dr. Munther Salah had been named Palestinian Minister of Higher Education, and Rami Hamdallah had succeeded him as President of An-Najah University.7 In advance of our first executive committee meetings to be held in Montreal in November, I consulted with each partner in the region about the proposed agenda, which included having a scholar in residence to guide our discussions. The overall situation in the region in the fall of 1998 was uncertain and troubled. The Oslo process had stalled. Poverty rates and unemployment were rising, as was the gap between the very wealthy and everyone else. Ten Israelis died in terrorist attacks, 21 Palestinians were killed by Israeli security forces, and an additional six were killed by Israeli civilians in 1998. Israel’s closure policy brought about a sharp rise in unemployment for Palestinians. In 1992, some 30 per cent of the Palestinian workforce in Israel was employed. In 1996, that figure had fallen to only seven per cent, and the average rate of unemployment reached a peak of 32.6 per cent. In the first half of 1999, Palestinian unemployment stood at 24 per cent.8 From the end of 1992 to the end of 1997, real GNP in the Occupied Territories fell by 20 per cent. The Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics set the poverty line at $650 a person a year. At the end of 1998, some 23 per cent of the Palestinian population was living on less than this amount.9

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In Israel in 1999, the unemployment rate was nine per cent. Approximately one in five Israelis lived below the poverty line, more than a quarter of all children in Israel were poor (26 per cent), and the income gap ratio stood at 25.8 per cent.10 It was also a difficult time for Jordanians: GDP growth had slowed considerably in 1999 and could not keep pace with the accelerating population growth. A government scandal involving contamination of the country’s water supply as well as King Hussein’s cancer treatments at the Mayo Clinic generated uncertainty. The Jordanian economy was sluggish, but the World Bank was positive about Jordan and attributed the country’s economic problems to regional instability. The stagnation was a result of exogenous factors which were outside Jordan’s control. . . . While the peace negotiations over the West Bank had stalled and the political euphoria had evaporated, these and the East Asian crisis were branded as the culprits, not the decades of low private investment and high government spending that was sometimes misdirected.11 *** I spent a few days in Jordan with Sami Khaswneih, who proudly showed me the new social work offices – five rooms in a separate wing in an arts faculty building. He informed me that the social work program must start in February 1999 with a first group of about 10 students. He agreed that the practice center should start once the current fellows returned and that authority should be delegated to them to carry it out. He reminded me that he had received his BA and MA from the State University of New York at Plattsburgh. I reached into my briefcase and produced a coffee mug from said institution. “I do not live far from the campus,” I said, referring to my second home on Lake Champlain in upstate New York, a 90-minute drive from Montreal. “I stopped in, told them of your distinguished career as their graduate and they gave me this complimentary college mug to give to you.” Mohammad Al-Hadid joined the meeting at this point. Dr. Al-Hadid had been president of the Jordanian Red Crescent Society (Red Cross) since 1993. The prodigy of a long-established and powerful tribe, Mohammad was educated in French in Amman, completed his higher education at Coventry Technical College and Birmingham University in England, and obtained a PhD in clinical chemistry from Birmingham. Mohammad is involved internationally, is married to a British woman, and speaks impeccable English and French. We went over the proposed agenda, and he was comfortable with it. He was open to participation with Israelis and agreed to represent The Jordan Red Crescent as the second Jordanian institutional partner. We were thinking of approaching Queen Noor to chair our international advisory board, but, given the King’s illness, we had not been able to meet with her. Dr. Al-Hadid said he has almost daily direct access to the Queen, the King, and Crown Prince

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Hassan. He asked for a copy of the letter I had sent and said that he would follow up immediately. I spent a day with Hmoud, Mohammad, and Sami developing a field survey regarding the provision of social services in Jordan, selecting an advisory group of priority agencies for affiliation with the social work program, developing a student recruitment plan, and planning a conference to introduce social work to the broader academic and professional community with the participation of McGill University faculty. In Israel, I met with Barbara, Noga, Amal, and her family and brought Jonathan Laine with me. Jonathan had just been reassigned from his desk job at CIDA in Ottawa to Ramallah, in charge of opening Canada’s representative office in Palestine and also responsible for the CIDA field program in West Bank and Gaza. Barbara was in full throttle. The very next day, there was a national bus tour organized by Community Advocacy in six different cities to support the right-to-housing law developed by Community Advocacy and being voted on in the Knesset. Financial support from Federation/CJA Montreal was cut in half, and Community Advocacy finances were in difficulty. The Genesis Israel/Community Advocacy component was funded out of an administrative budget that federation substantially reduced because it could no longer be justified in considering cuts in Montreal’s overall funding for Israel. In the absence of any appeals mechanism within the federation, we lobbied community members. One family member among Montreal’s most prominent philanthropists insisted that a portion of her federation gift be designated to Genesis Israel. This upset the federation leadership. Notwithstanding, the federation agreed that Barbara Epstein would present to the executive committee on October 29th. We planned that Barbara would come to Montreal a week before our executive committee meetings at McGill and arranged for her to meet one on one with key players in the Jewish community, give a lecture at McGill about her work, and spend time with the fellows in Montreal. Sari Nusseibeh at Al-Quds University was unable to attend the McGill meetings and delegated Dean of Graduate Studies Varsen Aghabekian to represent Al-Quds at the meetings. Over time, Varsen became the central player for us in East Jerusalem as well as an invaluable member of our executive and management committee. Varsen obtained a BSc in nursing from Akron University in Ohio, a MSc in nursing management from Purdue University in Indiana, and a PhD in Administrative and Policy Studies/Education from The University of Pittsburgh. Varsen was a founding member of both the Palestinian Coalition for Women’s Health and the Palestinian Public Health Association. She would later go on to coordinate capacity building at the Palestinian president’s office and become an adviser at the Palestinian negotiations support project and Commissioner General of the Palestinian Independent Commission for Human Rights. Varsen was not able to attend our initial meetings because Israeli authorities challenged her Jerusalem residency. Varsen has been rooted in Jerusalem for many

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generations. Her husband, Mohammad, also a professor of public health at AlQuds, was from Tulkarem. Based upon his status as a West Bank resident, Israeli authorities challenge her residency as a Jerusalemite. Varsen required clear and special permission from Israeli authorities to travel abroad, otherwise she might not have been allowed to return to Jerusalem. Varsen prepared a written statement, which, after introducing demographic facts about Palestine and describing the growth of Al-Quds University since 1984, said: With the advent of the Arab-Israeli peace process and the Palestinian aspirations for an everlasting and just peace, Palestinians and Palestinian institutions are challenged to change their mentality from steadfastness, freedom fighting, rebellion and defiance against occupation to that of state building, coexistence, dialogue, promotion of democracy, pluralism, pragmatism, and civil society. Challenges facing Palestine and Palestinian Universities and specifically Al-Quds University located in the heart of east Jerusalem include: • •

• •

• •

Promoting the growth and achievement of a sustainable peace. State building through complementary partnerships between state institutions, local organizations, and professional and community organizations. Developing needed and sustainable programs. Optimizing the university’s role in social development through diversification of academic programs as well as durable community outreach partnerships responding to the needs of the Palestinian society of tomorrow. Promoting the Arab Palestinian Islamic culture, identity, and existence in Jerusalem. Actively participating in social advocacy, political lobbying, establishing local national and international networks.

It is in this context that our hopes and expectations from this program include: • • • • • • •

Sense of awareness for the need to promote international and regional cooperation as essential and inevitable. Close relationship between partners with a clear understanding of the essence of development through international cooperation. Enhanced teamwork in planning, implementing and evaluating within a dynamic interactive process grounded in the authenticity of partners. Fulfill the role of Al-Quds University in community service and development. Promote interdisciplinary practice in providing social services. Promote the concept of volunteerism amongst university students and the community through work in the practice center. Promote in everlasting peace, understanding cultures and working cooperatively.12

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I met Rami Hamdallah in Nablus. Rami suggested that McGill should develop and support funding applications for each of our partner institutions as well as regional proposals that would enhance all partners and that the executive committee should discuss this idea and think about criteria and mechanisms by which this might be achieved. I conveyed warm regards from Musa Kamal, who insisted on having some private, informal time with Rami, and we scheduled this to happen. Back in Israel, I touched based with Benny Gidron, who would represent Ben Gurion University on the Executive committee. I asked Benny to speak about his recent research – which concerned the role of NGO peace organizations in promoting peace in South Africa, Ireland, and Israel – at the upcoming meetings. *** There was cause for optimism. Ten days prior to our inaugural executive committee meetings, Benjamin Netanyahu and Yasser Arafat signed the Wye River Memorandum, which detailed the steps to be taken by the Israeli government and the Palestinian Authority to implement the earlier Interim Agreement of 1995. In October 1998, Bill Clinton invited King Hussein, during his stay at the Mayo clinic for chemotherapy treatment, to attend the Wye Plantation talks, as the Israeli and Palestinian delegations were stalemated. Hussein, who weakened, arrived and urged both Arafat and Netanyahu to overcome the obstacles. Encouraged by his presence, the two leaders agreed to resolve their difficulties. Hussein received a standing ovation at the ceremony and praise from Clinton for interrupting his treatment to dislodge the deadlock.13 *** Our executive committee meetings took place weeks before the Quebec General Election of 1998 and would provide an opportunity for our Middle Eastern visitors to see raucous democracy in action. After the narrow defeat of the PQ’s proposal for political independence for Quebec in an economic union with the rest of Canada in the 1995 Quebec referendum, PQ leader Jacques Parizeau resigned. Lucien Bouchard left federal politics, where he was leader of the Bloc Québécois (a separatist party elected to the House of Commons of Canada) to lead the Parti Québécois. Jean Charest had also left federal politics to lead the Quebec Liberal Party. The incumbent Parti Québécois, led by Premier Lucien Bouchard, won re-election. *** The meetings were launched with a Beatty Memorial lecture delivered by our scholar in residence – Professor Peter Marris – attended by more than 300 people. Chancellor Gretta Chambers chaired the event and introduced me, and I spoke of the origins and goals of the now formally named McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building. The McGill Middle East program begins with the premise that it is time to put academic tools to work to advance the cause of peace by advancing civil

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You don’t have to love your neighbor society and reducing poverty,” I said. “The program is shaped by the belief that the greatest threats to peace are poverty and social exclusion. When people feel that they have no hope to change their circumstances, that their needs are not heard, that their children and children’s children will not have the same opportunities as others and are destined to live in poverty – alienation, desperation and violence fester. . . . There is an urgency to this mission. Since the peace process commenced in the Middle East, poverty has increased in all three societies and the gap between those who have and those who do not has ever widened. The cause of peace must go hand-in-hand with an acceptance and understanding of the other – an acceptance which recognizes that we share a common destiny, that we have the same aspirations to live in dignity, to live in safety, to provide adequately for ourselves and our communities and to be full participants in the decisions which shape our common destiny during our momentary journey together on this planet. It is time for reconciliation. It is time for understanding. It is time to seek out approaches which identify those things which we have in common – irrespective of language, religion, or background – rather than defining ourselves by our differences.14

Unplanned, I then introduced each member of the MMEP executive committee and asked them to rise. The executive committee members were scattered throughout the audience, and to experience a Palestinian University president rising, followed, in another section, by an Israeli academic, who was followed by the vice president of the University of Jordan – all embracing and being embraced by this audience – was a heartfelt beginning. Kappy Flanders, member of the Board of Governors at McGill and the coexecutor of the Morrison Charitable Fund, funded the second year of Amal and Noga’s fellowship. She spoke from her heart: I found MCHRAT by accident. I received a generic invitation to the closing of last year’s programme and thought that it might be interesting. It was a fascinating couple of hours and I kept thinking that perhaps this was a way to some sort of peace in the Middle East. Although there seems to be renewed hope at the moment, it is important to remember that deals come and go, but that daily life goes on. They say that before you can have new knowledge, you must open your mind. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could think of different cultures as bridges instead of as barriers? I think that that is what MCHRAT is doing. My late parents, Doris and Hymie Morrison, moved to Jerusalem from England in 1975 and lived there for almost 20 years, hoping for peace. They set up the Morrison Charitable Fund with the express objective of helping their adopted country, about which they were passionate. It is this fund that is sponsoring these fellowships. My parents felt, as I do, that the greatest reward for doing, is the opportunity to do more. I thank you for giving me this chance to contribute through my beloved parents to a cause that is very close to all our hearts.15

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Principal Bernard Shapiro introduced Peter Marris and his distinguished academic record. Peter titled his Beatty Memorial Lecture: “The Age of Violence: The Struggle for Identity in a Global Economy.” Peter warned that, in situations where social uncertainty is not evenly distributed, “there will continue to be a substantial minority in our societies, so hemmed in by the unpredictability of circumstances they cannot control, that the meaning of their lives is impoverished.” Marris maintained that world capitalism spreads both the technologies of wholesale killing, and the insecurities which lead people to kill.  .  .  . Not only because economic change disrupts familiar patterns of livelihood, but, because even more fundamentally, threatens to overwhelm the sense of identity on which each of us depends to find our place in an intelligible world. . . . Hence a world which is economically integrated, overwhelming cultural and political boundaries, but socially divided at every level by ethnic and religious differences and growing inequality, is extremely vulnerable to violent conflict.16 Professor Marris argued that, in this climate, the way we manage uncertainty fuels fundamentalist and extreme beliefs and identities as it “tends to displace the heaviest burden of coping onto those with the fewest resources.” This creates further uncertainty and leads to greater polarization. Peter argued that there is hope. Hope rests with the management of uncertainty reciprocally, by sharing the burden and making decisions cooperatively. While not speaking directly of the Middle East, Peter’s analysis resonated well and underlined our efforts to bring partners together to join development and peace building and to do so through cooperative, reciprocal management. The public lecture was followed by a formal dinner at the Faculty Club attended by the diplomatic corps of the three countries, members of the board of governors, the executive committee, and the fellows themselves. While the lecture was penetrating and the chemistry among executive committee members was generally positive, we could not gather around for a group photo. At this point, the level of apprehension in the group was too high for everyone to feel comfortable being photographed as one entity. Instead, we had photo shoots of each country delegation – members of the executive committee from that country, the fellows from there, and their diplomatic representatives. Developing trust and solidarity requires a process among members as well as a political atmosphere that does not pose a danger for those who seek to work together. The following morning, Peter led a breakfast session where we discussed how his main theme – the reciprocal management of uncertainty and the development of trust – could be operationalized in our work. Two clear principles emerged from this discussion. First, no institution or country could impose its views on any other institution or country in the group, and second, at least one representative of each country had to be present at all decision-making meetings. The program would involve “Bilateral relationships – between McGill and each partner, and regional relationships around regional issues which open up the possibilities of

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mutually reinforcing funding proposals and of developing joint training programs, among other initiatives.”17 The afternoon session focused on how to approach a local and, at the same time, regional vision of the Community Practice Centers. We affirmed the central objective “to strengthen the institutional capacity of academic, public, and community partners to advance social welfare, to enhance social and physical conditions, and to empower disadvantaged citizens to become full participants in the development process.” The Executive committee agreed that “The practice centers will develop independently in each society although common overall values and principles will provide the umbrella for all the centers.” The minutes note that each center, operationalized locally and independently, would share these common values and guiding principles: “1 Centers must be located in the communities where the people who most need them can access them. 2 Centers must be multidisciplinary to respond to a variety of needs. Professional expertise must be able to respond to the needs that people have. 3 People must be given the tools to respond to the needs of their changing society to access entitlements and solve problems. 4 Centers will deal with common issues which people in a community face. 5 Centers will enhance people’s participation in processes of defining needs, lobbying, research, informing policy makers and organizing to solve problems together.”18 The Executive Committee approved joint research that would “document the practical aspects of the program as this is absent from the literature.” Three central themes were identified: “regional contexts and approaches to social development; opportunities for joint training; and the adaptation of innovation to assist low-income people to become participants in their society.”19 Barbara Epstein was a strong and positive Israeli presence on the executive committee. She spoke the language of empowerment of disadvantaged groups. Authentically and passionately, Barbara spoke of her eldest son being in the military while she opposed the occupation. Some around the table may have taken issue with some of Barbara’s positions, but they interacted with an authentic, complex, and passionate advocate. Along with Merav, perhaps in part influenced by the fact that all the Palestinian and Jordanian executive committee members were men, Barbara and Merav established a warm, respectful, and friendly relationship with the “other.” Barbara invited her Palestinian and Jordanian partners, who will be establishing their own centers to visit the ones at Community Advocacy in Jerusalem and Beersheba. In all, we did well. Peter Marris provided a context and framework that guided a central idea: how to manage uncertainty reciprocally and promote coexistence. McGill welcomed and supported our initiative. We agreed to a common framework for working together, and we had plans as to how to proceed.

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*** I was planning a short trip to the region during the reading-week break in February 1999. Days before my departure, the sad news of the passing of His Majesty King Hussein of Jordan was announced on February 7th. I inquired about the appropriateness of my making a condolence call during the official three-day mourning period in which Queen Noor and her family would receive visitors. I was warmly invited, and I rerouted my flight to Amman. Various rumors and explanations abound as to why King Hussein transferred the line of succession from his brother – Crown Prince Hassan – to his eldest son from his first marriage Abdullah II, who was 36 years old at the time. Abdullah was crown prince when he was born in 1962, but Hussein transferred the title to his brother Hassan in 1965. King Hussein designated Abdullah II to succeed him but appointed his eldest son with Queen Noor, Hamza, as Crown Prince. Five years later, King Abdullah II would “transfer” this title and bestow it on his eldest son.20 On January 25, the day after he proclaimed Abdullah as crown prince, Hussein returned abruptly to the United States. On February 4 it was reported that Hussein was in critical condition. The next day, at his request, he was flown to Jordan. Fighter jets from several countries flew with his plane as it passed over their territory, including the United States, Britain, and Israel. Hussein arrived at the King Hussein Medical Center in Amman, where it was raining heavily, yet thousands flocked from all over Jordan and gathered at the main entrance. The crowds chanted his name, some weeping, others holding photos. At 11:43 on February 7, Hussein was pronounced dead.21 “King Hussein’s funeral was held on 8 February, the day after his death, attended by statesmen from 75 countries and an estimated 800,000 Jordanians. The UN General Assembly held an emergency special session in tribute to the Memory of His Majesty the King of Jordan on the same day.”22 “The funeral was the largest gathering of foreign leaders since 1995, and it was the first time that Syrian president Hafez Al-Assad was in the same room with Israeli statesmen. Khaled Mashal was also in the same room as the Mossad leaders who had tried to assassinate him just two years earlier. Four American presidents were present: Bill Clinton, George H.W. Bush, Jimmy Carter, and Gerald Ford.”23 I landed in Amman on February 10th to return to Canada from Tel Aviv; on February 20th, Sami Khaswneih, Mike Molloy, and I made a condolence visit to the palace and Queen Noor the next day. The setting was dignified yet intimate as friends, family members, and others who knew King Hussein and knew Queen Noor came by to pay respects. I was struck by the similarity in mourning processes in Islam and in Judaism. Funerals and the mourning process in Islam (Janazah in Arabic) call for burial of the body as soon as possible, preceded by a ritual involving bathing and shrouding the body, followed by “salah” (prayer). Burial is usually within 24 hours of death.24 The grave should be at right angles to the direction of the Qibla (i.e. Mecca) so that the body, placed in the grave without a coffin lying on its right side, faces the Qibla. Grave markers are simple, because outwardly lavish displays are discouraged in Islam.25

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According to Islam, loved ones and relatives are to observe a three-day mourning period. Islamic mourning is observed by increased devotion, receiving visitors and condolences, and avoiding decorative clothing and jewelry in accordance with the Qur’an.26 Widows observe an extended mourning period (iddah, period of waiting), of four months and 10 days. I felt comfortable with these core elements of Islamic mourning because they are so similar to what I am familiar with in Orthodox Judaism. Among us, with my parents, burial took place within 24 hours, preceded by the “chevra kadisha” (voluntary burial society), cleansing and preparing the body and wrapping it in a white shroud. Graves are pointed to the east – in the direction of Jerusalem – and are unadorned. Grave markers are concise, usually listing the name of the deceased, the deceased’s parents’ names, date and place of birth, date and place of death, and perhaps a verse or two engraved on the stone. There is an intense mourning period in Judaism for a week during which those grieving remain at home, while friends and relatives drop by with food, comfort, and at prayer times when at least 10 men congregate three times a day to recite the Kaddish – the mourner’s prayer. There is then a 30-day period of lesser mourning followed by an 11-month period of reduced mourning with the recitation of the Kaddish three times a day.27 We were here together – a Jewish professor from McGill, a Muslim university vice president, and a Christian Canadian Ambassador – in solidarity with an American-born Queen who had just lost her husband being mourned according to the traditions of Islam. Being there – in the palace – this time to express support rather than to request it, was part of that thread that weaves relationships among people, attaching us through our common humanity. I left for Israel and Palestine the next day and traveled down to the Negev. Amal had taken the ideas of Project Genesis and Community Advocacy on the back of a truck and was driving to remote, unrecognized Bedouin villages and advocating for women’s rights. Public institutions would not go to these villages as they were unrecognized, and when Bedouins would come to the city to seek service they would be confounded by a language and a bureaucratic structure and culture that were unfamiliar and intimidating. Amal convinced the National Insurance Office (Public Welfare) to allow her to set up a table at the entrance, and, staffed with volunteers, they would assist Bedouins to negotiate with the institution. This worked so well, Russian service users demanded the same kind of advocacy desk. Amal helped them to set one up. And there you have it, yet again, in this complex web of relationships and interactions, Bedouins helping Russians to access rights from an Israeli institution. I met with each of our partners in Israel and Palestine. Fundraising was a main focus of discussion, and politics was the main obstacle. In discussions with the Ben Gurion University president we identified joint initiatives such as recognizing Community Advocacy Beersheba as a university teaching center, jointly selecting the next three fellows from Ben Gurion graduates, and that the scholar-inresidence program relating to Israeli participation be coordinated by them. We spoke about these activities as one concept – suitable for a joint fund raiser of

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McGill Middle East Program and Canadian Friends of Ben Gurion for target goal of $500K. We agreed that I would draft this in a proposal and follow up.28 In Nablus, Rami Hamdallah suggested that, as he knew the head of the Ford foundation in Cairo, he would speak with him directly on his next visit there.29 I returned to Jordan on February 19th. I had one day to meet with Sami, Hmoud, and Mohammad and their first cohort of students, to meet with the new president, and to plan for the spring social work conference. Travel to Jordan had gotten easier for me. With my frequent crossings, getting to know the staff and the support of the Israeli ambassador to Amman, the Allenby Port Authority allowed me to park my car at the border crossing. At times, I could leave Jerusalem at 7:00 A.M., park my car at the bridge, be in Amman by 10:00 A.M., leave Amman at 4:00 P.M., cross the bridge, pick up my car, and be back home by 7:00 P.M., which, by the standards of travel logistics in the region, seemed miraculous. I would go over on Friday, February 19th and planned to return on the afternoon of the 20th and have enough time to pack up and catch my midnight flight from Tel Aviv to Montreal. The crossing to Amman was routine. Hmoud, Mohammad, and Sami updated me that, since my visit in October, 13 social work students were admitted, and I had a chance to meet them. They were taking two courses in social work: Theoretical Issues in Social Work Practice and Social Work Research. The Queen Alia, Queen Zein, and Queen Noor foundation expressed interest in supervising students, and the Ministry of Social Affairs had made available a wide database concerning NGO and governmental organizations and was able to fund some program components. Mohammad Maani had been nominated to the National Higher Committee on Service for the Elderly, and Hmoud Olimat was appointed coordinator of the social work program. There were very few social work texts that have been translated into or written in Arabic – notwithstanding Ibn Khaldun – a fourteenth-century Arab historian who is widely considered a forerunner of the modern disciplines of historiography, sociology, economics, and demography.30 We agreed that since four people would be travelling from Montreal for the social work conference in May, we would work something out with Air Canada, conduct a book drive at McGill, and bring books with us. My first meeting with the new president of the University of Jordan, Walid S. Ma’ani, was predictably formal. I expressed condolences on behalf of McGill President Bernard Shapiro and the entire McGill community on the passing of the King. I congratulated him on his appointment as President of the University of Jordan. President Ma’ani asked me to convey to President Shapiro his acceptance of President Shapiro’s condolences and congratulations. President Ma’ani, a professor of neurosurgery, expressed interest in possibly expanding the McGill relationship into the medical field. The University of Jordan sought to open a school for rehabilitation sciences in September to offer a BS in physiotherapy, occupational therapy, prosthesis, and respiratory therapists. There as only one Jordanian with a PhD in physiotherapy and only six with a master’s. They were looking for people to teach and equipment. They were interested in sending people to Canada for training. I pledged to follow up with McGill.

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Sami Khaswneih was kind enough to have his driver take me to the Allenby Bridge – known, on the Jordanian side, as the King Hussein Bridge. I had just thanked the driver and given him a small tip when we realized the bridge was closed! The driver spoke no English but handed the tip back to me, motioning to me that I would need it, and sped as fast as he could to take me to the Sheikh Hussein Bridge, which is two hours to the North. Crossing over at the Northern Bridge solved only one of my newly encountered issues. I had to take a taxi for an expensive two-hour ride south to the Allenby Bridge on the Israeli side to pick up my car, which was waiting in the parking lot and had to be returned at the airport on my departure! I still had time to pick up the car, go back to Jerusalem, and pack and get to the airport on time for my flight. The driver sped along, but by the time we got to the first gate to enter the terminal, it was closed. I mean closed, shut. I called the emergency number and explained my story. I was told to come back the next day. I said I couldn’t. The voice on the phone, disinterested, said there was nothing to be done. I left, and the driver took me to my flat in Jerusalem, waited and helped as I quickly packed, and got me to the airport with minutes to spare. Expensive . . . but I got there. And what about the car? Barbara Epstein was kind enough to arrange that someone from Community Advocacy got a ride to the Allenby Bridge the next day, picked up the car, drove it back, and returned it. Lesson learned . . . all solutions create unexpected problems. *** Back in Canada, we sent out a communique on behalf of all the Middle East fellows, the program staff, and all its volunteers that we were greatly saddened by the death of His Royal Highness, King Hussein of Jordan. To pay tribute, the Jordanian Fellows organized an intimate memorial service attended by the fellows, program staff, and volunteers. A video of the King’s funeral was shown, and those present had the opportunity to share their thoughts and feelings about the King and what he represented to them. I also wrote Queen Noor directly. A month later, Sami Khaswneih wrote me to inform me that Her Majesty Queen Noor has agreed to be International Co-Chair of the McGill Middle East Program. We would begin to make plans for an official visit by Queen Noor to McGill in March of 2000. With notable assistance from Sami Khaswneih and Ambassador Molloy’s offices, an itinerary was set and a program prepared for our visit. Bill Rowe, the director of the McGill School of Social Work, Associate Director Estelle Hopmeyer, Nicky Aumond, and I presented at this inaugural University of Jordan social work conference. We arrived carrying approximately 200 social work texts – donated by students and faculty – and which Air Canada did not charge us for excess baggage. Alongside the 150 texts purchased by the university, a beginning social work library was emerging in Jordan. University of Jordan President Maani welcomed us, the media, and the 250 conference participants. I spoke about the importance of social work to development, Nicky presented issues related to the management of civil society organizations, Estelle lectured about

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group work and group process, and Bill’s presentation concerned social work in health settings. The next day we toured The Jordan Red Crescent, The Queen Noor Foundation, and JOHUD and had some time for local sightseeing. The following day, May 4th, Nicky, Estelle, and Bill headed off to Petra. I remained in Amman as there was a possibility for a meeting with Queen Noor. As much as Petra is a true jewel of the world, I had already seen it five times. This was my 45th visit to Jordan since my first one in 1995. It wasn’t at all certain that I would get a meeting with Queen Noor. Her schedule is always packed, and the McGill program certainly was not among her highest priorities. In my first attempt to meet with her, I waited in the hotel (pre-cell phones) for her office to call for three days, upon which I was to proceed immediately to the palace. This time the meeting with Queen Noor was arranged without great difficulty. Her Majesty officially accepted to be international co-chair and international spokesperson and to visit Montreal during our next executive committee meeting, which would be set up at her convenience. I met up with the group again in Israel and traveled to Beersheba where we met with Barbara at Community Advocacy. Nicky and I met with Varsen Aghabekian in Jerusalem and a few days later traveled to Nablus, where Nicky gave a workshop on proposal writing to some 50 faculty, students, and professionals at An-Najah University. This was Nicky’s first opportunity to meet with and engage our Palestinian partners – vital to establishing rapport with partners through regular visits to the region, On May 17, 1999, general elections took place in Israel – prompted by a vote of no confidence against the Likud-led government. Ehud Barak was victorious and pledged to continue the Israeli–Palestinian peace process. Although Barak won the Prime Ministerial election comfortably, his One Israel alliance party won only 26 of the 120 Knesset seats, meaning he had to form a convoluted coalition with six other parties, including both religious and secular parties as well as leftist and centrist parties.31 *** We returned to Canada on May 25th, in time to help the fellows wrap up their year at McGill and prepare for their return home. At a closing ceremony in June 1999 and in the presence of some 100 guests, fellow students, mentors, tutors, community organizers, and faculty members gathered to pay tribute to the completion of the first year of studies at McGill of our first cohort of Israeli, Palestinian, and Jordanian fellows. It had been a year packed with theory and internships in rights-based practice. A year with new experiences in Montreal, an election in Quebec, and sharing a program with the “other,” Overall, we prepared them as best we could for what they would now experience directly, the establishment of rights-based practice centers in their own communities. We realized from this experience that we ought not to have a cohort of fellows in Montreal while, at the same time, having a cohort back in the region undertaking the second year of their fellowship. We deferred the next cohort to begin in the summer of 2000. I would spend much of the 1999–2000 academic year in the

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region on sabbatical. Jim Olwell would make three visits – totaling nine weeks – to provide guidance and direct supervision to the fellows as they established new centers and introduced new programs. The following chapter tells this story.

Notes 1 Sami Kilani has been written-up extensively and was profiled in a 1992 book, which featured him alongside Hanan Ashrawi, Faisal Husseini, and Sari Nusseibeh. See: John Wallach and Janet Wallach, The New Palestinians: The Emerging Generation of Leaders, Rocklin, CA: Prima Publishing, 1992; chapter 6; “Sami Kilani,” pp. 140–164. Op. Cit. p. 148. 2 Much of the following account relating to the fellowship program is excerpted from the 1998–99 Annual Report to CIDA authored by Nicky Aumond, Project Manager. See: Report to CIDA: Contribution Agreement 29869; Project 591/21191; McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building; July 1999. 3 Nicky Aumond, Op. cit. p. 4. 4 Vikram Bhatt, Minimum Cost Housing Group, CIDA narrative Report June 16, 1999. 5 Professor Ben Zion Dalfen advised Mohammad Faraj; Natalie Beauregard advised Ghada Abu Jabar; Professor Julia Krane was the advisor for Yifat Reuveni; Sami AlKilani was assigned to Professor Lindsay John; Salah Al Louzi to Professor Barry Trute; and Najwa Silwadi was advised by Professor Estelle Hopmeyer. 6 McGill, “Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building.” Newsletter, Vol. 1. No. 1, April 1999, p. 8. 7 Rami Hamdallah would be appointed as Palestinian Prime Minister in June 2013. See www.jpost.com/Opinion/Op-Ed-Contributors/A-look-at-Rami-Hamdallah-316864. 8 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Economy_of_the_State_of_Palestine. 9 GDP per capita. The World Bank. Earth Trends. 13 February 2010. Archived from the original on 13 February 2010. Retrieved 16 June 2016. 10 National Insurance Institute of Israel, Poverty Report, 2001. 11 S. Ramachandran, OED: THE WORLD BANK Operations Research Evaluation Department, JORDAN: Economic Development in the 1990s and World Bank Assistance, Washington, DC: The World Bank, 2004, p. 15. 12 Minutes of the Minutes of the International Executive Committee Meetings of MMEP: 11/98, p. 15. 13 According to the memorandum, the two sides would immediately resume permanent status negotiations on an accelerated basis and will make a determined effort to achieve the mutual goal of reaching an agreement by May 4, 1999. There would be further redeployment of Israeli troops. In total, 13 per cent would be transferred from Area C. Area B would increase with 13 per cent and Area A 14 per cent. Both sides agreed not to initiate or take any step that would change the status of the West Bank and the Gaza Strip in accordance with the Interim Agreement. The Memorandum determined that it would enter into force on November 2, 1998, 10 days from the date of signature. 14 Jim Torczyner, “The McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building”, Peter Marris lecture, McGill University, Montreal, November 2, 1998. 15 Kappy Flanders, Peter Marris Beatty Memorial lecture event, November 2, 1998. 16 Peter Marris, “The Age of Violence: The Struggle for Identity in a Global Economy,” Beatty Memorial Lecture, McGill University, Montreal, November 2, 1998. 17 Minutes of the International Executive Committee Meetings, 11/98 p. 2. 18 Minutes of the International Executive Committee Meetings, 11/98, op. cit. p. 3. 19 Minutes of the International Executive Committee Meetings, 11/98, op. cit. p. 8. 20 Mideastnews.com, February 8, 1999.

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21 “King Hussein Dies.” BBC, February 7, 1999. Retrieved 5 September 2017. 22 “U.N. Tribute to the Memory of His Majesty King Hussein Ibn Talal of the Hashemite Kingdom of Jordan. 8 February 1999.” UN. Archived from the original on 28 July 2011. Retrieved 1 July 2010. 23 Douglas Jehl, “Jordan’s Hussein Laid to Rest as World Leaders Mourn.” The New York Times, February 9, 1999. Retrieved 5 September 2017. Spencer Tucker and Priscilla Roberts, “The Encyclopedia of the Arab–Israeli Conflict: A Political, Social, and Military History.” ABC-CLIO, Santa Barbara, CA, May 12, 2008, p. 25. Retrieved 1 November 2016. 24 Rema Rahman, “Who, What, Why: What Are the Burial Customs in Islam?” BBC News, October 25, 2011. Retrieved 16 October 2017. 25 Ahmad ibn Naqib Al-Misri, Reliance of the Traveler (edited and translated by Nuh Ha Mim Keller), Beltsville, MD: Amana Publications, 1994. pp. 238–239. ISBN 0-915957-72-8. 26 Quran 2: 234. 27 Sahih Muslim Volume 2, Book 23, Number 369–371. 28 I did follow up and wrote a proposal, which was endorsed by Braverman. Notwithstanding, Leo Marcus, Executive Director of Canadian Associates of Ben Gurion University, chose to ignore the direction of the university president. Canadian friends of organizations have independent boards incorporated in Canada, and they have authority to make their own decisions. Leo Marcus, situated in Toronto and a supporter of the Likud, handpicked his board – most of whom shared Leo’s political views which were in sharp contrast of those of Avishay Braverman. 29 Indeed, Rami did meet with the head of the Ford foundation in Cairo and was assured a significant contribution. Nothing ever came of it. The regional director of the Ford foundation office in Cairo has independent decision-making authority over one budget for Egypt and Palestine. Appeals to the Ford foundation head office were redirected back to the regional office. 30 Zaid Ahmad, “Ibn Khaldun.” In Oliver Leaman, ed., The Biographical Encyclopaedia of Islamic Philosophy, Bristol, UK: Thoemmes Continuum, 2010. 31 https://www.knesset.gov.il/history/eng/eng_hist15_s.htm

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The fellows returned home in early summer with plans for the coming year and tasks to accomplish prior to our October visit: establish a planning committee within the university; conduct outreach to the professional community about the practice center; and gather and analyze data about alternate choices of neighborhoods. Although utilizing common criteria to assess neighborhoods, the centers would evolve differently – as they did in Montreal and in Israel. In each case, the local context, the institutional support, the quality of leadership, the level of existing public services, and the role and nature of civil society in each community would shape how the rights-based practice centers would evolve. During Jim Olwell’s three trips, he worked with the fellows directly in the field, assigned tasks for them to complete in between visits, received progress reports, and was available for consultation when in Montreal. Based in the region for most of the year, I overlapped with Jim’s visits, coordinated, and followed up. As the centers developed, we visited each center several times. Rather than retrace those non-linear steps, I describe the evolution of each center separately as they took shape between July 1999 and July 2000.

Jordan Our initial October 1999 visit to Jordan was frustrating. Little progress had been made since the fellows returned. There was confusion at the University of Jordan, and the overall atmosphere was volatile – as President Maani had overturned the results of student elections. Nicky Aumond described the organizational issues at the University as follows: Developing a suitable administrative structure and initiating work on the practice center faced unique challenges at the University of Jordan. First, the university is highly centralized, and delegation of authority was slow to come by. This created considerable delays in decision making and communications. Bridging two different departments – architecture and social work – in two different faculties, communication as to the role of the center and the fellows was strained and disjointed. The fellows found themselves with conflicting demands from their departments, the university administration and the

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McGill support staff. Relationships among the fellows was often uncooperative, and, given the fact that none had prior community practice experience, there was a tendency to give insufficient attention to the needs and demands of the field.1 To illustrate Nicky’s observations, consider that although there were now six fellows from our program at the University, no one had been named to direct or coordinate this unit. Hmoud was the obvious choice and had been recommended by the dean. The Dean quit. It took a long time to appoint a new Dean who was supportive of the recommendation but must take it up the chain of university approvals again – this time with his signature. Faculty members associated with the social work program and practice center, Hmoud and Mohammad had been given offices in the educational technology building and shared a floor with political science. Salah and Abdel Karim were in another building in the sociology department – about five minutes away, while Wael and Musa were housed in a third building of the faculty of architecture. Without a common space to house all the fellows and faculty involved in social work and the practice center, it is not surprising that communication among them was inconsistent, chaotic, and often unproductive. Combine this with the dynamics of Abdel-Kareem asserting authority by claiming seniority yet having limited managerial or social work skills. Add Salah’s deference to Abdel Kareem despite having done his PhD in a related field and having community practice skills. Stir it up with continued animosity among Abdel Kareem, Salah, and Musa. Taken together with the administrative issues at the University, we had a recipe for inaction, confusion, and minimal progress. Of the tasks we assigned to the fellows in May, not even a planning committee within the university had been established. Most disappointing was their choice for the center’s location, which we visited with them on a hot October day. We met the four fellows dressed in their Sunday (or Friday, in Islam) best and drove in two cars to Abu Nusair – the community that they had chosen for the center. Abu Nusair is a new town, situated on a hill northwest of Amman, and it has a population of 23,000. It is the first phase in a large urban expansion program in Jordan and houses primarily retired government workers. I wrote up this encounter at the time: Jim and I arrived in separate cars. We got out, looked around at this middleclass community, and It took us independently about 10 seconds to conclude that this was not going to be the location of the practice center. Abdel Karim exclaimed that there were poor people here, and there was vacant land where they could build a building. Jim and I were in total disbelief. We articulated that their focus is to serve the poor and they have to be where the poor are and not worry about buildings. They said that Abu Nusair was near a refugee camp, so we said take us there. The refugee camp – one of ten in Jordan administered by the United Nations Relief and Works Agency, or UNRWA, to house influxes of

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Moving toward the people Palestinians between 1948 and 1970, as distinct from the five refugee camps established more recently to house Syrians – was about five kilometers away. It was congested, poor, and under-serviced. Salah exclaimed that people are afraid to go there at night, to which I said this is one of the best reasons to locate the practice center there – so people will overcome their fears. After a heated exchange, they suggested other neighborhoods. Why did this outrageously poor choice come about? Well, Musa was the only one who voted against. Salah tells me that he wanted another neighborhood but didn’t want to break ranks with Abdel Karim and vote with Musa! All this points to several structural issues. The fellows need to be accountable within the university, but no one there has a real understanding of what is involved and are tied to rigid bureaucratic systems. I proposed a steering committee with a clear mandate to monitor the management and development of the center, to facilitate integration of the practice center within the university, and to manage the recruitment of the next group of fellows.2

Vice President Academic Sami Khaswneih agreed to chair the committee, which included the Dean of Social Sciences and Humanities and Dr. Sawsan Al-Majaly – the Director of Community Service at the University. The Steering Committee was established and scheduled to hold its first meeting in late November. Their priority would be to guide and select the neighborhood for the center. I wrote Dr. Khaswneih as follows: It is essential that the practice center be fully integrated into the university and that it be accountable administratively for its activities. and a director be named responsible both for the practice center and the social work program to allow for a smooth integration and facilitate the identification of needs common to both the social work program and the practice center such as the identification of future fellows. Professor Hmoud Olimat is a very good choice. In this start-up stage, it is more important to dedicate all four fellows to the actual work of setting up the center. The administrative directorship for the time being need not be situated in the center and can be readily combined with the tasks associated with directing the social work program.3 Jim and the fellows scouted out several neighborhoods in Amman and developed a plan for researching four of them. The group was tasked with producing empirical and demographic data about each community, focusing on issues such as poverty, unemployment, women and children, and looking at the diversity within each of these communities. Their tasks included spending time in each neighborhood – talking to people and gathering impressions about strengths and issues and preparing written reports. They were to first present their research plan to Jim, then gather the data and write up four community studies. The studies would be submitted to Jim by mid-December for his recommendation, and the steering committee would make a final decision in early January 2000.

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One evening, Jim and I were invited to the family home of Abdul Kareem Al Fayez. The Al Fayez clan is among the most important in Jordan, central to the stability of the regime and core support of the Hashemites. Abdul Kareem’s grandfather – Mithqal Sattam Fedny Al Fayez4 – was one of the two leading sheikhs of Bani Sakhr and its military commander. Mithqal took power in the early 20th century and “The longstanding alliances between tribal elites and the royal family explain, to a large extent, the extraordinary resilience of Hashemite rule in Jordan and the country’s relative stability.”5 Located about 30 miles south of Amman, the tribal lands owned by the Al Fayez clan are vast and cover large tracts of arid, desert land. The boundaries of their desert estate are marked by an imposing wall. We passed through security, drove by a large penned-in area where the Al Fayez’s raise Ostriches, and reached the tribal visitor’s tent. Jim and I got out of the car, and our jaws dropped. About 150 yards beyond the visitor’s tent – plunked down in the middle of the desert – was a three story, gilded, modern McMansion, which served as the Sheik’s residence. There were only men in the visitor’s tent. In fact, we did not see a single woman the entire evening. We were invited to sit on the guest’s cushions, made of beautiful Bedouin craft that formed a continuous rectangle covering the circumference of the entire tent. We did not speak Arabic, and Abdul Kareem, Mohammad Al Hadid, and Sami Khaswneih were the only ones who spoke English. The other guests included high-ranking tribe members, senior military officers, and government ministers. Arab hospitality is renowned, and as honored guests, we were very well treated. Jim is a good six feet tall, and I am only five-foot-eight on a good day. So, I introduced Jim as Jim Kabir. Kabir has a double meaning. It means big and it also means important. I introduced myself as Jim Sourir which means small and also less important. Immediately they descended on big Jim – after all he is the Sheikh of the Canadians – and I was delighted. I don’t like being thrust in that position, and I’ve been there, done that, and knew what was in store. So, they dressed Jim in Sheikh robes and headdress, provided him with a ceremonial sword, offered him dates and coffee, and smiled a lot. Jim relished the attention. A poet and an actor as well as being a superb community organizer, Jim likes the stage. After customary photographs of Sheikh Big Jim, we were escorted to the McMansion. There were two spacious living rooms – one for women and one for men – of equal size. We were asked to form the head of the line at the entrance to the kitchen. There, on a huge platter, was a bed of rice with pieces of goat meat mixed through. In the center of the platter was the goat’s head with eyes wide open, and on top of its head, was its tail. The goat’s tail is considered a delicacy and reserved for the guest of honor – in this case Sheikh Big Jim. I had seen this before and knew that goat tail was an acquired taste and gleefully watched Sheikh Big Jim’s eyes grow wide in horror as he understood what he was about to endure for the sake of promoting harmony, peace, and social justice. Jim has published many poems and memoirs and two collections of poetry. I await “The Tail of Jim Kabir.”

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The steering committee held its first meeting on November 29, 1999. The fellows presented their plan for researching neighborhoods – based upon which a recommendation would be made at the next meeting in January 2000. The steering committee agreed to name a director of the practice center within one week and to increase its membership by two – recruiting new members from the Ministry of Social Development and the community.6 I left the meeting feeling that despite the difficulties – some anticipated and many not – we had a plan. Hmoud was appointed director, and the fellows did submit community studies to Jim Olwell. Jim’s report recommended that the center be established adjacent to the Al-Wahdat neighborhood, My choice for the neighborhood of the practice center is Al-Wahdat at the junction of the refugee camp and outside of it in order to serve both inside and out. It was a difficult choice because every neighborhood that I saw could have used/needed such a service. One of the chief reasons for the choice was high poverty – almost a 40 percent poverty rate inside the camp (under 90 Jordanian Dinars a month) and I was just touring outside the camp . . . and don’t imagine it being better. The need for service was extreme – housing was dense, sometimes dilapidated and inaccessible. A fire in the neighborhood would be an incalculable tragedy – you can’t get in. Garbage pickup was irregular. I saw garbage littered everywhere and the neighborhood is a pathway for sewage from the municipality. School dropout rates are high. According to the Mukhtar’s son, half the children between ages 8–10 drop out of school. Some services existed but were not accessed. We witnessed an important exchange between the Mukhtar’s son and a representative of the Red Crescent who said that a loan to start a work project was available from the municipality, but the son did not believe it. The practice center is perfectly situated to bridge the confidence gap between services that exist and people who don’t believe it. We met some impressive young people, unemployed, who, with some training and confidence, would be likely participants in the development of the center. The last reason for the choice is the presence of an important partner, committed to the success of the project and totally comfortable with its ideals and approach.7 The steering committee held its second meeting on January 31, 2000 at the Red Crescent, which is in the Wahdat neighborhood. Representatives of the Canadian embassy attended to hear the fellows’ presentation about their field research. Wael presented central findings from his detailed study of the Wahdat refugee camp. The population of the camp was 53,300, and 43,659 were registered refugees.8 Of the population, 94 per cent were classified as “originally Palestinian,” five per cent as “originally Jordanian,” and the rest split between Egyptians and Iraqis. Almost three out of four (73.7 per cent) Wahdat residents were under the age of 25. One out of 10 residents was illiterate in the year 2000, almost four in 10 (38 per cent) had only completed primary school, and only one in 20 had obtained

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a degree from a community college or university. Unemployment rates stood at 18.3 per cent for men and 31.1 per cent for women – creating an overall rate of 24.2 per cent. Crime numbers were higher than the total population of the Wahdat community. There were 56,200 reported crimes in Wahdat camp – among a population of 53,300 residents. Most frequently recorded were theft (39.2 per cent) “violent” crime (15.1 per cent), and, recorded separately, conjugal violence (11.1 per cent). Wael confirmed that UNRWA was the major provider of relief, social service, health, and education programs in the camp. Notwithstanding, only 381 families with monthly incomes of less than 90 JD (approximately $150) were registered as “special cases” and received food, cash assistance, and shelter rehabilitation. Five hundred women were enrolled in skill training; income-earning activities such as sewing, hairdressing, flower arranging and embroidery; and community banking.9 After much discussion concerning issues of student transportation to Wahdat, which is in the Eastern end of Amman from the University, which is in Western Amman, and a time frame for securing a location and making use of the Red Crescent as a base in the interim as per Dr. Al-Hadid’s generous offer, the steering committee unanimously approved Al Wahdat as the location for the practice center. *** While establishing the practice center and being in the community were unfamiliar territory for the fellows as well as for the University, the introduction of the social work program gained strength and was finding roots within the university as well as with public institutions and civil society organizations. MMEP fellow Mohammad Maani, appointed to the Jordanian National Commission on the Elderly, utilizing his artistic talent, designed and drew the National Jordanian poster for the International Year of the Elderly. Jim and I gave a lecture with translation to a capacity crowd of over 100 participants – including people working in the field, academics, and students. The program was praised broadly in the media, by Crown Prince Hassan and the Palace itself. The social work program had 27 first- and second-year students enrolled. I taught a class (with translation) to this eager, enthusiastic, authentic group of women and men, religious and secular. One student was Baha’i, another was Christian, some were strictly observant, and others seemed ML – as I learned from young people – Muslim Light! They were full of questions about social work, Canada, and Quebec and overjoyed about having this connection with McGill. I answered as best as I could. I did my utmost to reach them and cross boundaries at the same time – to emphasize that there are more things that unite us than divide us and that we all share the same rights. I was deeply moved by the interaction I had afterward with one of the students. I recounted the encounter between Jasmine Williams and the isolated Holocaust survivor that I shared with you in Chapter 1: I told the class this story but felt there was a barrier. I said that I thought it is difficult for some of

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them to hear and feel the pain of this Holocaust survivor because his experience rubbed against their own pain – of the thousands of their brethren who became homeless and refugees in 1948. I suggested that we change the story. Now, it was an elderly Palestinian man who had lost his home and access to his birthplace, whose life never recovered and who may not have the opportunity to see his homeland again. Now, I suggested, say it was a Jewish woman who gave him some clothes to mend. Now, how do you feel about the story? I asked. The answer I heard was in the sighs and silence in the room. And I said, to advance peace we must move beyond our own experiences of pain and link with the experiences of others. After class, a young woman came up to me hesitatingly and said, “My father taught me never to speak to a Jewish person.” I replied that “My father told me not to be engaged with non-Jewish persons.” He had been in two concentration camps during the war. My mother, however, who rescued my father from Dachau, taught me something else. She taught me “Never again, not to anyone. An injustice to any person is an injustice to every person.” I looked at this young student and said, “listen to your mother.” Months later, I ran into this student again. Unhesitatingly, she discussed with me her master’s research project and her desire to work with families whose children suffer from cancer.10 *** The steering committee noted that they were unable to recruit any candidates from within the University of Jordan. I suggested that, since the University of Jordan has been unable to identify candidates, we should search more broadly. I proposed that the steering committee members cast a wide net and recruit candidates with community practice experience, that we advertise in the papers and do a proper interview process. I wrote Sami Khaswneih as well that I recommend a particular candidate at the Red Crescent who has highly impressed us in his ability to be a concrete and necessary link between the university and the community regarding this project and provide a tighter link with our partner – the Red Crescent – in the neighborhood where the practice center will operate.11 Sami, Mohammad, and I met for dinner. Sami and Mohammad knew each other. The tribal leader of Mohammad’s clan, the Al Hadids – Sheikh Barjas – was an important member of Parliament. His son was the mayor of Amman, and “he is a pillar of the East Bank establishment whose family and tribe have offered the ruling family unstinting loyalty since Prince Abdullah arrived in Ma’an in 1921 to claim Transjordan for the Hashemites.”12 The Al-Hadid tribe originated in present-day Syria to the north, and the important Khaswneih tribe is rooted in Northern Jordan. This high level of familiarity engendered trust – necessary for the university to deviate from its usual procedure and open the fellowship program

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to non-university personnel. This critical decision – to identify fellows with practice experience who were not university faculty – would secure the future of the center. I left Amman hopeful. We chose a neighborhood for the center, had a functioning steering committee, and had the go-ahead to recruit from beyond the university. We had room to grow. Not for long: At a meeting of the International Executive Committee in Montreal in March 2000, the Vice President of the University of Jordan, Sami Khaswneih, made the surprise announcement that the neighborhood would have to be changed. Reasons for this decision underscored the centralized nature of authority at the University of Jordan, the distance of these decision-makers from the issues and scene of where the work was to be carried out, and an underlying tension of giving priority to the Palestinian refugee population.13 Startled, I passed a note to Sami. He looked away and pointed to U of J President Walid Maani. I met with President Maani on the sidelines and followed up with a letter: I was astonished to learn at the executive committee that this decision had been overturned, and that your office would not consent to locate the practice center at the neighborhood chosen. Three reasons were given. First, concern was expressed that the Al Wahdat refugee camp serves the Palestinian population. I was told that Israel and Palestine have practice centers for their own populations, and Jordan should have one which serves “the JordanianJordanian poor”. Second, I was told that the Al Wahdat population would not utilize the center because they would view it as part of a plan to resettle them in Amman – which would negate their rights of return. Third, I was informed, the neighborhood is too far away from the university. These are important concerns which raise many issues about the program and our partnership. First, the neighborhood chosen was on the periphery of Al Wahdat in order to serve both a Jordanian-Jordanian population as well as the Palestinian refugee population. In interviews conducted with the Mukhtar and other residents, great interest was expressed in seeing the practice center established in their community. I have seen no evidence that the local population would tie our work to larger political issues – rather the opposite has been reported to me. This is particularly important regarding an empowerment model which seeks to assist the residents themselves to voice their own concerns and priorities – rather than have people who do not live in the neighborhood speak for them, have not spoken with the residents, let alone ever ventured into their neighborhood. There is no purpose in having a Steering Committee if its decisions are not respected. There may be some need to clarify which decisions fall within the domain of the steering committee. Once items are brought to the committee

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Moving toward the people with your or Dr. Khaswneih’s prior knowledge, the decisions then must be respected. I am pleased that you agree with the criteria we established for selecting a neighborhood, and that you will take charge of the process to select a neighborhood and to secure a storefront location without delay and prior to my next visit to Jordan in late April. I hope that upon reflection you will uphold the decision that the practice center be in the neighborhood outside Al Wahdat. Should you decide, however, that this decision must be overturned, then I ask that a quick resolution of this impasse take place which respects fully the criteria.14

President Maani chose not to respect the committee decision. I do not know to what extent the Palestinian issue resonated deeply among Jordanian elites or to what extent the president was flexing muscles and exerting his authority over a high-profile program with McGill, which was hosting Queen Noor in Montreal. The program was launched with President Gharabeih, whose background was in economics and public administration and was a product of an important tribe in the North of Jordan. President Maani came from a large tribe in Karak in Southern Jordan. I did not know and never will know what the combination of factors was that brought about this decision, but it did not bode well. The highest level of decision making at the University of Jordan – its president, appointed by the King – would decide in which poor neighborhood a practice center about which he has little knowledge will be located, and he would approve its actual location. The centralization of authority negates risk-taking, the flexibility of an empowerment approach, and the participation of the community, while the expressed concern for the “Jordanian-Jordanian poor” to the disadvantage of the JordanianPalestinian poor is divisive and not inclusive. A few weeks later we were apprised that the East Sweileh neighborhood was chosen as the site for the center. Sweileh had high rates of poverty and was ethnically diverse with a fairly equal percentage of Jordanians and Palestinians and a diverse group of foreign workers and their families – primarily from Egypt. Sweileh is accessible to public transportation, is situated not far from the University, and its housing and infrastructure are poor. Ninety families were interviewed in the East Sweileh neighborhood when we first considered it as a potential location as well as service providers and community leaders. The choice of East Sweileh was reasonable – even though the process left a great deal to be desired. Jim worked with the fellows on his final trip of the year – conducting outreach and spending much time in the neighborhood with them. A storefront was found on a main street. Nicky Aumond recorded the following progress: Since April, outreach activity has intensified. Eight local organizations have been met with, including schools, health institutes, the main mosque and the like. The Mokhtar, Imam and parliament member representing the neighborhood have also been interviewed. The main purposes of these meetings

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was to introduce the practice center, recruit volunteers, discuss neighborhood problems, and to obtain material for the resource directory. Outreach to disadvantaged families – the disabled, widows, the elderly and the unemployed has begun, and a variety of issues relating to access to service, insufficient and inaccessible health facilities, housing and income maintenance have been identified. About 100 students and faculty members were reached through various on-campus outreach activities. As well, there have been numerous articles in the Arabic and English press about the center as well as several television and radio interviews. The center is currently engaged in its initial outreach activities. Given the problems identified, progress has been slow and often frustrating. In order to ensure proper professional support in the coming year, a program is being planned with Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel. Careful monitoring is essential in order to determine if the delegated authority finally provided by the university takes place in practice and whether the objectives of the practice center are being well pursued.15 In the end, the university did not produce any candidate from within its ranks. Through advertising in the media and local contacts, we selected three fellows for the next cohort. One had extensive experience working on the front lines at the Jordan Red Crescent. A second had 15 years of experience working in the Ministry of Social Development and had a natural understanding of the rights-based model. I will introduce you to Rad and Talal in the next chapter. ***

The establishment of the Community Service Center at AnNajah University in Nablus, Palestine: Nablus, at the time the largest city in Palestine, was far more inclusive than Amman. Politically, Nablus was a stronghold of Fatah – although deep divisions existed with Hamas supporters, but these divisions were political and not ethnic. The voluntary provision of benevolent support during the first intifada raised civil activism to a very high degree. An-Najah University was and remains central to the cultural, social, economic, and educational life of the city and the entire West Bank. Indeed, during the first intifada An-Najah faculty galvanized students to provide ongoing support to the citizens of the city and surrounding villages. Children received daily school lessons in stairwells, corridors and homes as public institutions were shuttered. Sami Kilani outlines the impact of the Oslo Accords on the governance of Nablus as follows: Nablus is classified according to the Oslo Accords as area A, which means that according to Oslo, the PNA should have full authority over the city. PNA started operating in the city and the governorate to promote development.

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Moving toward the people Progress was achieved in different aspects of life, but this progress was interrupted by the start of the second intifada (October 2000) and the Israeli measures taken against PNA and its institutions.16

With the Oslo accords, Palestinian leadership began to focus its attention on developing the infrastructure for an emerging state. In this context, assisting An Najah to develop social welfare institutions stafed by professionally trained social workers was an attractive idea as well as a societal imperative. Promoting social work through rights-based community practice centers resonated further with a society that was seeking self-determination. Taken together, the context in Nablus was more fertile than the context in Amman. An-Najah University described its challenge as follows: An-Najah University is facing unprecedented challenges in a rapidly changing political, educational and institutional environment. Standing at the doorstep of an independent Palestine, the university should be the leading higher education institution that provides Palestine with the educated and well- trained human resources, which are needed in the building process of a new state.17 In its vision, ANU highlights its commitment to “continue to make important contributions to the technological, scientific, environment, infrastructure, and social and economic welfare of Palestine through what it identified as its ‘three primary missions; instruction, research, and service’18”. One of the major tools by which ANU translates the service mission into action is by requiring undergraduate students to complete a one-credit-hour course (32 working hours) in community work as a prerequisite for graduation. Given its place in the Palestinian context, its vision, and its goals, it is not surprising that senior administration in general and President Rami Hamdallah in particular not only truly understood the importance and approach of a rightsbased model but endorsed it, valued it, and prioritized it. They already had a structure in place which integrates community-related centers into the administrative structure of the university. Thus, the practice center relates to the coordinator of scientific centers at the university who is accountable to the president.19 The linkages between the University and the community and the emphasis on a rights-based, empowerment approach were highlighted in An Najah and the center – CSC (Community Service Center) publications: CSC is described in many of its documents as a community-based, university affiliated and voluntary-effort oriented community organization (intifada. najah.edu). The inclusion of these three characteristics in the description of CSC tried to accomplish two things. First, to reflect the vision that it adopts in its community practice, working for the realization of human rights in

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general and the rights of disadvantaged groups in particular. Second, to reflect its desire of linking the university with the community using the human resources of the university to serve the community (that is, student volunteerism and staff expertise).20 Sami Kilani’s deep roots in Nablus and leadership were central to the center’s success. Everyone knew him. Walking with him in the Suk felt like accompanying the local mayor – with people flocking to him with greetings, suggestions, and requests for advice. Sami had high credibility, respect, recognition, and legitimacy. Sami combined the determination of an organizer with the soul and understanding of a poet. In September 1999, Dr. Naser Tibi – representing the administration of An Najah University – was named acting director of the practice center. This was done in order to create tight links between the university and the center as well as to provide an interim period during which the university would examine the relative merits of appointing one of the two returning fellows to this position. By December, Sami Kilani was appointed director of the practice center.21 Sami understood that the center’s success would depend not only on its integration into An Najah University but on its relationships with public institutions, civil society organizations, and the room it made for the participation of ordinary citizens. In September 1999, a Professional Advisory Committee was established, and it met six times during the following nine months. Their mandate was to provide guidance about programs, communicate with various university departments, organize lectures and seminars about the practice center, and participate in the evaluation of center programs. Five meetings were held, which attracted 180 students and 20 professors and administrators to introduce the practice center, recruit volunteers, and develop action plans. In December 1999, a broad-based steering committee was established to set policy for the center, network with various institutions and organizations, and assist in fundraising. Sami Kilani describes this process as follows: One of the first steps in preparation for the launch of the CSC was to send invitations to different governmental and non-governmental community organizations, asking them to name representatives to the CSC steering committee. According to CSC’s first brochure, the steering committee is described as ’composed of representatives of a number of governmental and non-governmental institutions working in Nablus governorate in the fields of CSC activities, in addition to representatives of the served community and CSC volunteers, as well as two representatives of ANU. The committee follows-up CSC vision, policies, and [CSC’s] relations with the community, as well as helping in opening horizons of cooperation with other relevant community institutions.

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Moving toward the people The committee held its first meeting in the CSC’s first month of operation, in February 2000. As a result of the involvement of the steering committee members, CSC was able to build a network of relationships with many community organizations and was welcomed as a new player willing to cooperate rather than being seen as a new competitor. I, as a founding director of CSC, was aided by the steering committee members to extend contacts with community organizations beyond the contacts I had established in my past voluntary work in the community.22

Building on these contacts with the community, the CSC organized meetings with 20 community organizations in its first month. During these initial contacts, some steering committee members attended meetings and helped to introduce the broad conceptual framework of CSC. These efforts were intended to assist CSC to carve out a unique niche without offending or threatening other actors. The clear message delivered in these contacts, reinforced by the credibility of ANU, and the credibility of the steering committee members and the institutions they represent, combined to enhance the development of a rich network of linkages between CSC and the community. In addition, the steering committee as selected, and the role it played in the establishment phase provided CSC with a healthy participatory democratic environment for its development.23 The resulting steering committee was active, inclusive, and diverse. It met monthly, and was composed of 12 members representing municipal, regional, national organizations and civil society organizations.24 Jim Olwell and I attended several meetings of the Steering Committee during our visits. I was struck by an observation of the head of the social affairs directorate for Nablus. He commented that the Steering Committee was the only place where he got direct, unfiltered information and learned directly from consumers how their services were being received and what was really needed. This fusion of university expertise, institutional leadership, and the participation of the consumers themselves underscores the success CSC initially achieved and continues to achieve to this day.25 Careful attention was paid “to build a solid base of community involvement and participation.” In the first three months of its operation, the CSC organized a workshop on “Promoting Voluntary Work in Palestine,” in which the CSC presentation focused on volunteer administration; rights and responsibilities of volunteers and the organizations employing them; and opening horizons to internalize voluntarism in organizational structures and plans. The workshop formed a committee representing several community organizations and volunteers to follow up, and CSC organized a 50-hour training course for volunteer coordinators in the major community organizations that recruit and employ volunteers in the Northern West Bank. The training materials that CSC prepared focused on concepts like participation, empowerment, rights and responsibilities, volunteer

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job descriptions, and the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. As director of CSC, when I was asked about the role of volunteers in the CSC in an interview for a press report in July 2000, I described it as “volunteers contribute in an essential way to CSC work, and participate on equal footing with CSC staff in working with the community and in decision-making.”26 Jim Olwell, Sami, and Kheiry developed criteria for the location of the center, which included accessibility (near public transportation to different parts of Nablus and surrounding villages and refugee camps, being located at a crossroads for pedestrians and traffic), that the population contain a mix of socio-economic groups, and that it be located near potential partner agencies. Four neighborhoods that met these criteria were selected for further study.27 The team consulted census data, unpublished statistical data from the Palestinian Bureau of Statistics, and research studies identified by the professional advisory committee. In addition, 15 community leaders were interviewed as well as numerous community organizations, neighborhood residents, and trade unionists. The downtown area was viewed as the first choice. It was easily accessible, bordered on the Old City, was very close to large refugee camps, was close to the market, and was at the center of public bus and taxi transportation. This recommendation was ratified by An Najah University in October 1999, and search for a storefront commenced. There are few affordable storefronts in the area. Rather than waiting indefinitely until one would be found, An Najah University donated a three-room apartment in the neighborhood. The CSC opened its offices there in December 1999. With the physical location secure, the CSC intensified its outreach activities and met with over 60 organizations and community leaders to introduce the practice center, learn about their activities, and discuss ways of coordinating efforts. Information was compiled from interviews with 30 organizations to be included in the center’s resource directory. With about 10 organizations, joint action plans were developed, and representatives were invited to the practice center steering committee.28 In its first year of operation, An Najah’s CSC attained impressive results. One hundred and fifty volunteers had been recruited, 245 children were enrolled in a supportive education program pioneered by CSC, an additional 135 individuals were assisted through the center’s newly established support to disabled kids and family programand some 400 people attended various workshops conducted by CSC. CSC provided training in rights-based practice to volunteer coordinators in other organizations. Already the practice center was having an impact on the lives of disadvantaged residents. Forty-two individuals benefited from advocacy, information, and referral services regarding housing issues, welfare, unemployment, disability, schools, and access to government services. Jim Olwell provides a case example of the recently opened storefront – (named The Open Door). A disabled man working but receiving a very low salary lived with his 7-member family applied for a housing project. He was turned down – needing a down

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Moving toward the people payment of $8,000 and only had $4,000. He was helped to write the Directorate and request that the other $4,000 be divided into his monthly rent over time. He received a positive response. This is now moving in the bureaucracy, heading towards a successful outcome.29 Jim’s concluding comment about An Najah-CSC in its first year came with high praise. Every center activity has an outreach component, and every correspondence includes an effort to outreach. A great variety of community projects have begun in co-operation with various other community services and government departments. Excellent work being done on many fronts. Fine co-operation being provided by the University. Wonderful leadership being provided by the Director and excellent work being done by staff.30

An Najah and CSC became the flagship of our academic–community partnerships in the region, and demonstrated that in the right context, with clear university support and with skillful organizing and management, a rights-based practice center could have a profound and sustaining impact. Notwithstanding the outbreak of the second intifada and its accompanying cycle of violence, which would engulf Nablus, Palestine, and Israel for the next five years, An Najah and CSC would continue to thrive, grow, respond to, organize, and promote the principle in word and deed that all people share the same rights. ***

The establishment of the Al-Quds Community Action Center in the Old City of Jerusalem The politics of Jerusalem affect almost every daily decision. The adage is “we serve up politics for breakfast in New Orleans,” but here, in Jerusalem, it is served up 24/7. The future, present, and past status of Jerusalem is ever-present in daily life. It is vehemently argued over, passionately defended, and contested by Jews, Muslims, and Christians. It affects where you feel safe, where you book a hotel room, where you shop, what’s open where and on what days, and, for many years, what time it is.31 The annexation of East Jerusalem by Israel following the 1967 war as the “unification of Jerusalem” had historic, religious, and even messianic import for Israelis, while it engendered anger, helplessness, and fear among Palestinian Jerusalemites who lost all political power. They live in apprehension of Israeli policies, which often deny them building permits or expropriate their lands and homes and make it difficult for them to maintain their residency rights – despite their families having lived in Jerusalem for hundreds of years. Palestinian Jerusalemites became occupied people. It was not, however, entirely grim. Palestinian Jerusalemites were granted a special status of “residents,” which entitles them to access and benefit from Israeli institutions and to travel without restrictions throughout Israel. Palestinian Jerusalemites attend the Hebrew University, shop at the Malcha mall, go to the beaches of Tel-Aviv Jaffa, and commute

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as far as Beersheba to study at Ben Gurion University. They intermingle with the Palestinian-Israeli population, benefit from the Israeli health system, and frequent museums and libraries. Notwithstanding, Palestinians in East Jerusalem do not have the rights of full citizenship. They are not entitled to vote in Israeli national elections and do not have Israeli passports but hold a “travel document.” They pay income and property taxes to Israel at a higher proportion than Israelis in West Jerusalem but do not receive comparable services. Research conducted by Al-Quds University and The Jerusalem Center for Social & Economic Rights in the late 90s found that “the Jerusalem Municipality collected approximately 30 per cent of the municipal taxes in East Jerusalem from Palestinian residents who constituted 32 per cent of the city’s population – yet received minimal benefits.” For example, in 1995 Palestinians received less than one percent (NIS 1.5 million) of the NIS 175 million allocated by the government to Jerusalem. By the year 2000, the total amount of funds spent on East Jerusalem was NIS 229,475,277–8.7 percent of the total municipal budget. Thus, the Jerusalem Municipality spent an estimated six times more on the Jewish population in comparison to the Palestinian population. Accumulated over the years since 1967, extensive disparities in public services between East and West Jerusalem became the norm.32 Garbage collection, road and sidewalk repair, street lighting, and sewage were notably inferior in East Jerusalem compared to the West. Jerusalem Municipality data revealed in 1999 that there were 743 inhabitants per kilometer of sewage pipe in the West compared to 2,809 in the East; 690 inhabitants per kilometer of sidewalk in the West compared to 2,917 in the East; 710 inhabitants per kilometer of road in the West compared to 2,448 in the East; 1,079 public gardens in the West compared to 29 in the East; 531 sport facilities in the West compared to 33 in the East; 26 libraries in the West compared to two in the East; and, 1,451 playgrounds in the West compared to two in the East. Furthermore, the lack of services was extended to the sectors of education, health, social insurance and general welfare, among others.33 By and large, each community stays to itself. Foreign governments have consulates in East and West Jerusalem. The liberal elites from both sides mix at the Ambassador Hotel in East Jerusalem or at the YMCA in West Jerusalem – across from the historic King David hotel. For those with high connections, the elegant and discreet American Colony Hotel is the venue of choice. Donor government representatives and members of the press meet each other and with Israelis, or Palestinians, or both as all scan the room to see who is meeting with whom. Younger people hang out at the Jerusalem Hotel – a livelier spot directly up the road from the Damascus gate and across from a bus stand. Jim preferred to stay at this venue. In this context and in the absence of ongoing normal contact between the two people, suspicion and rumors divide them further. Palestinians fiercely defend

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their Jerusalem residency and claim Jerusalem as the future capital of Palestine. On the other hand, they do not want to give up the economic, social, and cultural benefits and opportunities available to them as Israeli residents, and, while being “annexed” and thereby “occupied” and taxed, they depend on the Israeli government and the Jerusalem Municipality to provide them with basic services. Ideological struggles about normalization are most acutely felt in Jerusalem, and the Palestinian population is deeply divided between those who denounce other Palestinians who engage with Israelis as traitors and those who are committed to advancing the Palestinian cause by seeking discourse with Israelis. Israelis are deeply divided as well. A militant right, religious political force seeks to “Judaize” east Jerusalem and take over Palestinian homes. At the time – in 1999 – this movement was symbolized by a home owned but not often frequented by soon-tobe Prime Minister Ariel Sharon – draped with a large Israeli flag descending two stories in length, located on a major street in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City of Jerusalem. Notwithstanding, most Israelis support a two-state solution. Many are open to various possibilities of sharing Jerusalem – one city the capital of two states. Irrespective of one’s views about normalization, feelings about Jerusalem are not entirely normal either. Fueled by passionate beliefs about God’s differential covenants, there are deep, holy, spiritual imperatives commanding the faithful to give body and soul to religious claims. On an average day in the Old City of Jerusalem, which is divided into Jewish, Muslim, Christian, and Armenian quarters, one can often find at least one man dressed in white robes and carrying a large harp proclaiming the messiah. Al-Quds University forms an important part of the Jerusalem context and spans multiple campuses. The main campus is in East Jerusalem, a newer larger campus is to the east of Jerusalem in Abu Dis, a third campus is located to the west in Beit Hanina, and another is near Ramallah at Al Birah. In 1999, its president, Sari Nusseibeh, always controversial, was sure to be criticized by one faction or the other given his public stands on peace, (his most controversial position, later laid out in the Geneva Accord co-authored with former Shin Bet Director Ami Ayalon, being that Palestinians should forego the right of return as a final status issue) normalization and the future of Palestine.34 The Jerusalem context was one important factor that would make our entry more complex. Neither of the returning fellows lived in Jerusalem or had been previously employed by Al-Quds. Najwa Silwadi lived near Ramallah. Ziad Faraaj lived in Bethlehem. They lacked familiarity or recognition in the neighborhoods they would approach. Once the intifada broke out the following year, severe travel restrictions were imposed. Ziad would give up on trying to reach Jerusalem daily and was embroiled with Al-Quds University on contractual issues. Najwa remained persistent and found a variety of holes in fences and rarely traveled roads to bypass barriers. Further compounded by persistent grave financial difficulties, Al-Quds was having difficulty paying its staff on time – resulting in partial salary payment – often several months late. Ziad would not last beyond the second year. Najwa would persevere.

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Although the center would seem to naturally fit with the Al-Quds social work department, the department was weak, did not have a director, and many faculty held other jobs given unpaid back salaries by the university. “Lacking necessary administrative leadership, challenges emerged regarding the role and the place of the fellows in relationship to both the Social Work Department and the University.”35 Without a clear administrative structure, both Ziad and Najwa competed to become the center director – often to the detriment of the tasks at hand. Varsen Aghabekian – Dean of Graduate Studies at Al-Quds – provided consistent, ongoing direction and established an effective committee at the university in the fall of 1999, which included the presidential assistants for planning and development, academic affairs, and the Dean of the Faculty of Arts. The committee met monthly – mandated with monitoring and policy for the center such as the selection of a neighborhood and site for the center, steering committee membership, and professional support needs. Jim Olwell and I made our first visits to Al-Quds from October 5th to the 7th 1999. Prior to our arrival, Ziad and Najwa studied two neighborhoods and prepared “A Proposal for the Establishment of a Practice Center in East Jerusalem.” Of the two neighborhoods, one is located inside the Damascus Gate within the Old City of Jerusalem. The other – Shuafat – is a refugee camp administered by UNRWA lying to the Northwest of the city. The university had a clear preference for the Old City. It was and remains the center of the action for Palestinian social rights and access to service. Najwa and Ziad recommended Shuafat. They stated that by locating there they could be accessible to two refugee camps as well as nonrefugee Palestinians living in the area.36 Jim and I had difficult conversations with Najwa and Ziad. They provided no data or rationale for the choice of Shuafat and seemed to want it because they would have more autonomy there as the university would dominate decisions in the Old City and had fewer links in Shuafat. We had arranged to see Shuafat with them, but hours were taken up discussing administrative arrangements, salaries, working hours, and accountability as well as Ziad and Najwa both putting themselves forward to be the director. We came down hard on this internal positioning and insisted that the focus is not who will be the director but how we accomplish the tasks to setup a viable center. The focus is not in what community would they have the most autonomy but in what community can we have the most impact. We underscored that they were accountable to Al-Quds and had to find their place there. Jim insisted that they produce hard data on these two neighborhoods within the next week – social demographic information population size, poverty indicators, housing, crime and occupational data, an inventory of institutions and NGOs operating in the area. Any other information to verify the greatest need. The source of data and information. This information should be ready by October 19th. By the same date a list of tasks will be ready for discussion, and who is doing what.37

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The Al-Quds Steering Committee met in early October, and gave three directives: •

•

•

within the coming month both Najwa and Mohammad (Ziad) have to find the location where the community practice center should be established the Steering committee must develop a plan of action that clarifies the most convenient and efficient ways to integrate the social work department in the efforts of establishing a practice center. Najwa and Mohammad are responsible for the development of a community steering committee.38

With Jim’s request for empirical data, the two neighborhoods were explored. Each neighborhood had compelling arguments for an advocacy practice center. Both house large numbers of low-income, significantly disadvantaged people with an average family income in of 2,500 NIS. There are, however, distinctions between the two communities. Disability rates are higher in the Old City (2.2 per cent vs. 1.5 per cent), and there are substantially more people over the age of 45 (17.3 per cent vs. 12 per cent). The population of the Muslim quarter of the Old City is more diverse. Sixty nine per cent are Muslim and 31 per cent are Christian as opposed to Shuafat, where the entire population is Muslim. Family size and housing density is somewhat higher in Shuafat than in the Old City, and this parallels the age structure of the two communities. Both populations live in uncertainty regarding their political status and their rights to entitlements, and lack many basic services. Five neighborhood leaders were interviewed in each community. Service providers were met with – including the director of the refugee camp in Shuafat, a school principal, two social workers, a rehabilitation center manager, a rehabilitation worker, and a local physician.39 There was no new data in what Najwa and Ziad presented to support establishing the center in Shuafat rather than in the Old City in the heart of the action and the struggle for rights that Al-Quds unequivocally supports. Notwithstanding, Ziad and Najwa again recommended Shuafat – seeking to impose personal preference on an institution to which they are accountable. Before the meeting, I met with Varsen and we discussed the importance of having a strong steering committee with members knowledgeable of the political and social service system and who have the confidence of the university in order to make certain that the center is fully integrated into the university and that the practice center and Ziad and Najwa are accountable within this system. We discussed the choice of the neighborhood. Varsen believes that small “p” political issues were influencing Ziad and Najwa’s agenda and therefore they preferred Shuafat. Varsen and I agree that the Old City is the better choice, and neither Ziad nor Najwa should be the director. Instead, they should concentrate on the tasks at hand by working as a team.40

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I recorded the following in my field notes from the November 1, 1999 steering committee meeting. We met at Al Quds today. I got there early and gave Varsen Jim’s letter in which he recommended the Old City. She said that she and the entire membership of the steering committee preferred the Old City as it was central, clearly in need and did not have the problems of dealing with United Nations authority. I then spoke with Najwa and Ziad. I explained that the data they provided was insufficient. Huge howls. I went through it point by point. It seemed that Ziad concurred point by point – the data was insufficient, defied interpretation, was not documented and had no sources. Ziad heard it, Najwa did not. I said to them that the problem is that they based their professional opinion on personal issues. As professionals they are entitled to give their personal preferences and explain them, but they are not entitled to pretend that the data supports such a position when it doesn’t. They work in a structure and are accountable, and they must learn to work with their steering committee. Part of that work is to say when they do not know something, and to understand that their judgement is important but not paramount. Went into the meeting. Surprisingly, Najwa was compliant. Ziad blew. He went on for about 20 minutes arguing for Shuafat. Varsen chaired the meeting, and on several occasions legitimated his point of view while skillfully pointing out the difference between their concerns and that of policy making which considers many more factors and a wider context. Actually, everything Ziad said furthered the case for the Old City – and not for Shuafat. In the end, the Old City was chosen. Najwa was graceful and said there is need in both communities. Ziad had the cold glare of a person scorned. I offered to meet them later in the week to process if they wanted. The decision made by the steering committee to locate the center in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City was taken because in Shuafat there were no NGOs within the camps, the future role of UNRWA was unclear, and it was UNRWA which is responsible for looking after the social welfare needs of the Shuafat refugee camp. In the Muslim Quarter of the Old City, it was felt that this population had rights both with regard to the Palestinian Authority and with regard to Israeli Authorities but were not receiving many entitlements. This population was not subject to agreements regarding UNRWA, there were a multiplicity of NGOs in the Old City, and that the issues of helping people access social rights was clearer in the Old City and more central to the complexities and difficulties of people achieving a measure of dignity and service.”41 A search began to find an appropriate location in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City. Rents are very high, there is much suspicion regarding organizations looking for housing there, the neighborhood is crowded and congested, and there were few choices. Through outreach, the team discovered an abandoned 7th century church which had been used for decades as a carpentry

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Moving toward the people storage space. Al Quds University decided to buy it for the purposes of the center and obtained a major renovation grant to restore it and render it suitable for the practice center. CIDA confirmed that the budgeted funds for storefront rental for Al Quds could be used for key money down payment. The renovation process was likely to take between 18–24 months, Al Quds University gave temporary space to the practice center in a street level location it owns which is central, and adjacent to the entrance to the Dome of the Rock. Jim Olwell returned to the region on January 29, 2000. While Najwa and Ziad were responsible for securing the permanent location and setting up in the temporary one, Jim had worked out detailed plans with them to do an indepth community survey. Some of this had begun before Jim’s arrival. By the time Jim left in mid-February, he was able to report significant progress and outlined tasks to be accomplished before his next visit in mid-May: “The survey of local community services is well underway. Thirteen organizations have already been interviewed, some by professionals, some by students. Some of these will have to be interviewed again for networking/relationship purposes and/or because student interviewing was ineffective. While I was present, they were invited to a meeting of seven local organizations. The fellows will now begin visiting Israeli government services to familiarize themselves with the health and welfare service system and services available. These activities will continue to build the Resource Directory. They will visit -4 services per week for a total of 25 or so services and this should take six weeks from the point of office equipment being fully installed and staff (secretary/receptionist) hired. Outreach is expected to begin in March and target 50 people. Concern is that once outreach begins news travels so fast and problems are so numerous, that there will be a flood of requests for individual storefront services that two workers will be unable to meet. So, outreach will begin as planned if students are available, office is totally functional, survey is well underway, and other staff hired.”42 The team moved into their temporary quarters in April, 2000, and, after considerable delays, it was set up with fax, telephone, and computers. When Jim arrived toward the end of May 2000, he noted diplomatically: Although real progress has been made in areas such as networking and relations with community organizations, on the community assessment, and on furnishing the storefront, greater progress had been expected concerning the offering of individual services to the members of the community, the most important task of the Center. Now these issues have been resolved for the medium term. The team is about to begin the first essential work of the Center – providing individual services to members of the community. As it is not expected that

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citizens would come to the storefront to access services initially – for cultural and political reasons – the storefront will come to the residents. Through the good offices of supportive local organizations, the professionals will target an initial 15 families to whom they will go and offer to provide individual services as necessary. It is expected that a further 35 families – for a total of 50 – will then be ‘outreached’ for this purpose. Eventually word will spread, confidence will be established, and residents will begin to create a path to the storefront, and individual services will begin to be provided there.43 Discussions still centered around the naming of director from between the two workers. As no clear reason why such a decision at this time would advance the interests of the practice, it was decided that no decision be taken on this issue until August 2001. However, “distinct areas of responsibility would be appointed, but recognizing that both workers were equally responsible for implementation. (Najwa storefront, Ziad organizing). They will cooperate on all tasks; and jointly share steering committee and university liaison responsibilities.”44 Systematic outreach activity in the neighborhood had not commenced prior to July 1, 2000, but then it began in earnest. Some 40 people were contacted in July, and approximately 15 residents and 16 professionals were recruited as volunteers. Through the beginning outreach, about 30 families had requested assistance from the practice center. There remained much work to do, but at last things were moving in the right direction – toward the people. *** Community Advocacy advanced its efforts significantly in 1999–2000. Close to 6,000 community residents seeking assistance visited the storefronts in Beersheba and Jerusalem. More than 2,000 people were contacted through outreach. Another 600 attended the Community Rights Fair where Community Advocacy brought together 36 organizations to set up booths and meet people in the local park. An additional 1,387 people attended Public Information Meetings organized by community Advocacy. Strong gains were made in housing. Community Advocacy’s successful Supreme Court challenge concerning repairs and maintenance in public housing resulted with an allocation of 14 million shekels to improve conditions. As part of the Public Housing Forum coalition, Community Advocacy “won a decision to begin selling public housing apartments to tenants and more than 9,500 public housing residents have purchased their apartments with savings to tenants estimated at $320,000,000.”45 Amal Saana recruited a pool of Bedouin volunteers and conducted outreach to unrecognized Bedouin villages – and women in particular – to inform them of their rights and engage them in community organization activities. Community Advocacy set up the Unrecognized Bedouin Single Mothers Group for them

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to receive equal income support benefits from the National Insurance Institute. Community Advocacy explained the complexity of this situation as follows: In Israel, the National Insurance Institute provides income support benefits for single mothers who either do not have any source of income or have low incomes. Eligibility is contingent on living in a residence separate from one’s estranged spouse. In the Bedouin community, even after divorce, women often continue to live under the same roof as their former husbands in order to remain with their children, who, according to their tradition, belong with the father. Because of the culturally enforced living situation of these women, the National Insurance has arbitrarily created a separate category called ‘extended family’ and only grants one third of the benefits to which single women are entitled.46 Through our efforts we have succeeded in securing full insurance rights for 196 Bedouin women.47 *** Promoting a regional culture in the Middle East that all people share the same rights is difficult to operationalize. Moving beyond vague wishes requires concrete action on the ground, which brings people together from across borders in an ongoing way. In Israel, Community Advocacy and Barbara Epstein were essential to these efforts: Numerous consultations were held between the developing practice centers in Jordan and Palestine and Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel. Having eight years of solid experience in the region as well as having a number of Arab staff and fellows, Community advocacy/Genesis Israel has become an important asset on the ground to the overall development of the program. Each practice center visited and consulted with Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel around developing storefront advocacy services, volunteer recruitment and training, the system of entitlements in Israel, coalition building, board development and outreach. This culminated in a week-long visit by fellows and volunteers from Jordan to Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel in June 2000. Through a series of formal lectures, workshops and participant observation, the Jordan team was able to make significant progress in their approach to developing their own practice center.48 About 85 people attended our first regional conference, which was hosted by AlQuds University and Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel. Jordanian, Israeli, and Palestinian fellows, staf, and steering committee members joined leaders of NGOs, representatives of the World Bank, CIDA, The Moriah Fund and The New Israel Fund, and the President of Al-Quds University, Professor Sari Nusseibeh. The program, “Common Issues in the Management and Development of Community Practice Centers: A Regional Perspective,” was held over two days. The program opened with a presentation by Emily Gantz McKay, Founder and Director of Mosaica, and covered various issues related to the development and

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management of NGOs and the unique university–community partnerships envisioned by the MMEP practice centers. Jim Olwell led the afternoon session and examined common themes that have emerged in the various practice centers such as approaches to community assessment, outreach, neighborhood selection, and relationships with other NGOs. Following his presentation, simultaneous practice center workshops discussed strategies and ideas related to these issues. Day 2 was hosted by Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel. The group got on a bus and visited first CA/Genesis Jerusalem where they were given a comprehensive overview of the organization and heard presentations from key staff members. The group continued its journey for another 100 kilometers to Beersheba where Hadas Barzelai (nee Maabari), Director of Community Advocacy Beersheba and the first student involved in its establishment provided an overview of the organization’s history and activities. A Bedouin volunteer presented their work in Arabic in assisting this population to access entitlements. They were then given a tour of the neighborhood by Yoav Weinberg following his presentation on urban renewal issues in that community. The two-day program was a first in many ways. It demonstrated on the ground that it is possible to continue the spirit of cooperation established at McGill in the region itself. For the Jordanians, it was their first visit west of the Jordan River, and they were able to see “the other side” and enjoy it. For Palestinians and Israelis, people were put first, and politics was not on the agenda. Rather, the focus was on common purpose – building civil society as an indispensable part of peace building. A second regional conference was held in Amman in May 2000 and hosted by the Jordan Red Crescent. The program featured Jean Panet-Raymond – former Director of the Université de Montréal School of Social Work and well-known community activist – and Elobaide Elobaide of the Faculty of comparative law at McGill and Arabic-speaking. Following a series of lectures and events in each country organized by our partners, the Regional Conference brought everyone together. Nicky Aumond underscored the importance of people to people in forging a regional culture that is premised on the belief that all people share the same rights: The important role of these social occasions in forging relationships cannot be underestimated. During the evening at the Kanzaman Restaurant, the volunteer coordinator from An-Najah spontaneously began dancing to the music and the community worker from the Community Advocacy Beersheba storefront joined in as well; neither were our fellows, but both are participants in the overall program. Others joined them and the group mixed well. The following day at the work session, the volunteer coordinator and the community organizer were overheard comparing notes on their centers, programs and activities. In addition, six members of the second, incoming cohort were able to participate in the Amman conference which allowed them to feel part of a larger group as well as to gain a better understanding of the overall

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Moving toward the people objectives and activities of the program. At the end of the first day I asked one of the new, incoming Palestinian fellows how he was finding the conference. The response was slow and thoughtful, “Last night, Nicky, it was very strange . . . but today, I find it good. It is the first time I ever spoke to Israelis. I learned they are like us and also have problems and want to help people in their community. We can learn from each other, it is good”, (a short pause) “Now I must prepare my children for this.”49

The depth of these relationships is well illustrated by Sami Kilani’s concern for me. I accepted to address the annual conference of the National Association of Israeli Social Workers in Tel Aviv on the morning of February 20, 2000. I had also accepted to address the World Bank sponsored Palestinian NGO Project Conference in Ramallah on the same afternoon. My plan was I would start of in Tel Aviv, drive to Ramallah, give my address there, and then continue north to Nablus to meet Sami for dinner. However, it was a chilly day, and by the time I was done lecturing for a combined three hours, I was running late, and my voice was completely gone. I could barely whisper. Driving to Nablus, I tried reaching Sami on my cell phone to let him know I would be late, but I could barely get a squeak out of my throat. I tried again and failed and kept on driving. Within 15 minutes, I saw two Palestinian Red Crescent ambulances driving toward me, and I thought there must have been a terrible accident somewhere. The ambulances drove past me, circled back, and had me stop. The Red Crescent driver asked me if I was alright. I whispered that I was but couldn’t speak – gesturing with my hands and fingers toward my throat – seeking to convey my predicament in an international language. The driver, much relieved, laughed, and told me he had been sent by Sami who was afraid that something terrible had happened to me on the way, that I had an accident, and was trapped in my car in a ditch somewhere and couldn’t speak. I would have the opportunity to reciprocate – which you will discover in future chapters – as our relationship deepened. *** I confirmed March 14, 15, and 16th, 2000 as the dates for Queen Noor’s visit to McGill with Salim Khair – the Director of her office. Nicky Aumond managed the program and the visit itself. No simple matter. None of us had hosted royalty before. The protocol, security, and hospitality requirements necessitated careful, detailed planning – let alone the planning of a major public event, a private luncheon for donors, media interviews, and, in parallel, the details of the international executive committee, which would take place during this same period. Nicky drafted our staff – Andrew Woodall, Lucie Marion, and Mona Hammond – as well as scores of volunteers and students, and hired an events coordinator – Kiki Dranius. The Queen’s high-profile visit began with an official reception at the airport, front-page coverage in Montreal and National papers, and a 20-minute exclusive interview with CBC television premier interviewer, Peter Mansbridge – all leading

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up to the main event “An Evening for Peace with Her Majesty Queen Noor of Jordan.” Preceded by a cocktail reception with Her Majesty for our significant donors, the event itself was open to the public, free of charge, and overflowed the 600-seating capacity at McGill’s Pollack Hall in the Schulich School of Music. Gretta Chambers chaired. After introductions and greetings from the new McGill Chancellor Richard Pound (better known as Canada’s longstanding member of the International Olympic Committee), newly installed Minister for International Development Maria Minna, and a musical performance featuring McGill University musicians, the Queen rose to speak to a standing ovation. Queen Noor was internationally renowned not just for being the Americanborn Queen of Jordan but in her own right in advocating for and chairing the coalition to rid the world of land mines and the devastation they cause to innocent children and adult civilians. She mesmerized the audience with a poignant plea for the victims of war: During a conflict, the wounded, the refugees, the widows and orphans plead eloquently for peace, sometimes in a language we don’t understand, more often without saying a word. When war ends, we celebrate the achievements of the negotiators, we applaud the fortitude of the returning soldiers, we mourn the dead – but what of those who survived? We have seen their faces on the news. When possible, we have sent them aid – food, medicine, blankets, clothes. We have awarded our highest honors to those, like the doctors of Medicins Sans Frontieres, who find ways to deliver such aid where it is needed regardless of politics. But then strife flares in another part of the world, the cameras and the mediators and the aid agencies move on, and those at the center of the suffering are left to pick up the pieces of their shattered lives. Their losses are incalculable – homes, livelihoods, loved ones, even limbs, or hearing, or sight. And it is at that moment, just when they turn to face the future, that the world seems to turn its back on them. The bravery of soldiers, or even of peacemakers, cannot compare to the courage shown by these silent heroes. In my work supporting refugees and those plunged into poverty and despair by war, and my work with the International Campaign to Ban Land mines, I have witnessed it in the Middle East, in the former Yugoslavia and in Asia. I have seen that courage in the faces of the women of Srebrenica, struggling to carry on without their husbands, fathers and sons, and even without certain knowledge of what happened to them. . . . As long as a nation, or an individual feel threatened, violence and recourse to weapons is never far from the surface. But, like so much else, the definition of security is changing. Threats to security today come not only from war, but also from social and economic inequities, human rights abuses, marginalization and poverty. True security is not a matter of protecting borders from military aggression, but of providing a stable environment for all citizens, able and disabled, women and men, of all races and creeds, to participate fully

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Moving toward the people in commercial and political life. Peace is not merely the absence of hostilities, but a positive human security founded in equity. The McGill initiative is bold and at the cutting edge. Its ambitions and goals are embodied in its name: The McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building – establishing a clear link between the two.50

The International Executive Committee met over three days (March 13–15, 2000).51 I co-chaired a session with Queen Noor titled: “Promoting Regional Cooperation in an Atmosphere of Uncertainty: Experiences, Opportunities and Constraints” held in the corporate boardroom of Power Corporation of Canada after a luncheon generously hosted by the Desmarais family in honor of Queen Noor, the Executive Committee members, and significant supporters. The conversation focused on regional cooperation across boundaries, and each of the key players affirmed its importance and insights from their experience. Maureen O’Neil, President of the Canadian International Development Research Center, served as expert resource person and focused discussion on how research can be used as a peace-building tool that promotes greater regional cooperation particularly in conflict zones. Mr. Denis Potvin (Country Program Manager, CIDA) described CIDA’s interests and experiences in the Middle East and some of the problems and opportunities envisaged in regional cooperation. While working on a country-by-country basis, CIDA is also interested in regional cooperation and, therefore, supports initiatives to this effect. CIDA is motivated by the commitment by the parties, the degree to which these activities would generate a clear value-added, the cost-benefit dimension; and the sustainability of these initiatives.52 Dr. Sari Nusseibeh (President, Al-Quds University) cited three fundamental principles to regional cooperation: parenting – any project must be parented with an understanding that all partners must have equal involvement from beginning to end; parity – there must be parity between partners at all levels including financial resources, equipment, academic involvement, and infrastructure; and transparency – decision making must be transparent and inclusive especially with respect to budgeting. Prof. Jimmy Weinblatt (Dean, Faculty of Social Sciences and Humanities, Ben Gurion University of the Negev) added that one challenge to efforts of regional cooperation were the wide differences between partners; presently, one side has many more resources, know-how, etc. This imbalance could lead to a form of economic colonialism or imperialism. Another obstacle is political instability and “efforts to change the political climate shouldn’t be left to governments alone.” Programs such as the MMEP were fundamental. Capital has no nationality, which augers well for economic cooperation in the region. Capital can lead to greater employment and skills development, and, in time, it may narrow the gaps between people. Prof. Weinblatt described his involvement as Co-President of PRIME (Peace Research Institute in the Middle East). PRIME undertakes joint research ventures

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between Palestinians and Israelis on topics related to peace building such as the development of textbooks promoting coexistence. He explained that PRIME fulfills Dr. Nusseibeh’s criteria for cooperation. He concluded with impassioned optimism regarding popular will for peace in Israel and that peace in and of itself must be seen as a value that will bring prosperity, economic growth, and friendship. Dr. Walid Maani (President, University of Jordan) added that, in order to promote peace, people must see tangible results in coexistence, especially the economic benefits, which will reduce inequality. Academic exchange is one level, but there must be an impact on people and society. Prof. Rami Hamdallah (President, An-Najah National University) underscored the importance of international cooperation in the region from a Palestinian perspective especially with respect to the development of higher education. These efforts must be based on true partnership even if the Palestinian partners, initially, gain more from the relationship. Rami stressed the importance of academic freedom and autonomy in international cooperation specifically with respect to teaching, research, and governance, which is fundamental to the search for solutions to problems. Agreements between institutions should be based on relationships between people who want to achieve a maximum of academic creativity and innovation and who are willing to invest human and financial resources. Sincere commitment of people and a real flow of ideas and knowledge are more important than written agreements, large sums of money and constant evaluations. The development of networks and partnerships are good laboratories for practicing democracy and good governance, and their aim should be to enhance human resources.53 Dr. Mohammed Al-Hadid (President, Jordan Red Crescent) commented on the important role of NGOs in international cooperation as witnesses of the realities of disadvantaged people. He used the example of the International Societies of Red Cross/Red Crescent, which have 188 members but have yet to include the Israeli counterpart due to the lack of an acceptable emblem for the organization. The issue was being dealt with, and a design concept was being discussed at the international level. The example is relevant in that, before regional cooperation can exist, the parties must know each other. Visiting each other’s communities/organizations is an important beginning. Peace is a continuous, creative, and cooperative process, not merely the absence of war. Peace involves issues of freedom, independence, sovereignty, human rights, and equal distribution of resources. Ms. Barbara Epstein (Executive Director, Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel) expressed concern that the presentations had not mentioned human rights advocacy as a central concept to regional initiatives. She mentioned that advocacy is difficult to address because it isn’t a neutral term. Economic and social rights are fundamental, and they must be on the table in the future. She reiterated that this group must begin to look at regional issues.

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Dr. Naser Tibi (An-Najah National University) expressed a disquiet regarding the “rosy” picture presented regarding partnerships. He mentioned the difficulties that Palestinian partners have to travel to Israel and Jordan and expressed a desire for the other participants to push governments to address the inequalities and change the atmosphere. Dr. Nusseibeh described two separate issues that he thought were relevant. First, the difficulty in acquiring travel visas, which presented a logistical problem for the MMEP. Second was the problem that joint initiatives are unpopular in Palestine and the rest of the Arab World. The latter is a larger political problem of freedom of Palestinian institutions within Palestine. *** The foundations to move toward the people were laid: centers were being established, Community Advocacy was advancing rights, the social work program at the University of Jordan had taken root, and we had established a framework for working together and a common agenda at the highest levels of our partner institutions. Notwithstanding the difficulties encountered, the beginnings of a rights-based, community practice culture was cultivating new soil. A new cohort of fellows would strengthen the centers, and we had learned much from our previous experience. This optimism would be sharply challenged by events over the next several years: the outbreak of the second intifada in October 2000, and the horrible 9/11 attack in New York a year later in 2001.

Notes 1 Nicky Aumond, “Report to C.I.D.A., McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building.” August 2000, p. 16. 2 Jim Torczyner, Preliminary Report from Jordan, October 12, 1999. 3 Jim Torczyner letter to Sami Khaswneih, October 18, 1999. 4 Mithqal headed the Al-Twaga half of the Bani Sakhr tribe throughout the period, which brought the ascent of King Abdullah I and the establishment of Jordan as an independent country. The support of Mithqal’s tribe to the Jordanian Hashemite regime extends back to the creation of Jordan in 1921 and has characterized its political system ever since. 5 Yoav Alon, The Shaykh of Shaykhs: Mithqal al-Fayiz and Tribal Leadership in Modern Jordan, Palo Alto, CA: Stanford University Press, 2016. 6 Minutes of the University of Jordan Practice Center Committee, November 29, 1999. 7 Jim Olwell, Report on Neighborhood Selection: Jordan, January 2000. 8 Registered refugees are those officially registered as refugees with UNRWA and thereby eligible for certain grants and services. 9 Wael Al-Azhari, “Al Wahdat Camp.” January 2000. 10 Closing Remarks An Evening For Peace With Her Majesty Queen Noor; Professor Jim Torczyner; McGill University, Montreal, Quebec, Canada, March 14, 2000. 11 Jim Torczyner, Letter to Sami Khaswneih, February 14, 2000. 12 Alan George, Jordan: Living in the Crossfire, London: Zed Books, 2005. 13 Nicky Aumond, Report to CIDA, August 2000, p. 17. 14 Jim Torczyner, Letter to President Waalid Maani, March 28, 2000.

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15 Nicky Aumond, Annual Report to CIDA: 1999–2000, August 2000. 16 Sami Ziadalkilani, Adopting Rights-Based Approach to Community Practice: The Experience of the Community Service Center, Nablus, Palestine – A Case Study, School of Social Work McGill University, Montreal, June 2010. www.najah.edu/modules/content.php?ID=2674&l=en, 1/3/2010. 17 www.najah.edu/modules/content.php?ID=2674&l=en, 1/3/2010. 18 (www.najah.edu/page/2674, 1/3/2010). 19 Nicky Aumond Annual Report to CIDA: 1999–2000, August 2000. 20 Zaidalkilani, Sami Adopting Rights-Based Approach to Community Practice: The Experience of the Community Service Center, Nablus, Palestine – A Case Study, School of Social Work McGill University, Montreal, June 2010. 21 Nicky Aumond, Annual Report to CIDA: 1999–2000, August 2000. 22 Zaidalkilani, Sami Adopting Rights-Based Approach to Community Practice: The Experience of the Community Service Center, Nablus, Palestine – A Case Study, School of Social Work McGill University, Montreal, June 2010. 23 Zaidalkilani, Sami Adopting Rights-Based Approach to Community Practice: The Experience of the Community Service Center, Nablus, Palestine – A Case Study, School of Social Work McGill University, Montreal, June 2010. 24 Membership on the Steering committee consisted of representatives from the following organizations: the Nablus municipality; social affairs directorate for Nablus; education directorate for Nablus; housing directorate for Nablus; local governance directorate for Nablus; Federation of Charitable Societies, Nablus; Palestinian Women’s Union, Nablus; Human Rights Organization, Nablus; Palestinian Federation of Trade Unions, Nablus; community resident from the old city of Nablus; a volunteer from the practice center; and two representatives of An Najah University. 25 Issues of integrating expertise, leadership, and participation have long been studied in community organization leadership and practice. See, for example, Gilbert and Specht’s analysis of 147 Model Cities programs in the United States where they revealed that cities that scored highest on community cohesion and political integration also scored highest on all outcome measures. Neil Gilbert and Harry Specht, Dynamics of Community Planning, Cambridge, MA: Ballinger, 1977. Also see Brager, Specht and Torczyner; Community Organizing, 2nd ed., New York: Columbia University Press, 1987. 26 Zaidalkilani, Sami Adopting Rights-Based Approach to Community Practice: The Experience of the Community Service Center, Nablus, Palestine – A Case Study, School of Social Work McGill University, Montreal, June 2010. 27 The Old City of Nablus, the Khalet el-Amoud neighborhood and the Al Souk Al Akhder (The green market neighborhood), and the downtown area. 28 Among the meetings and workshops initiated or attended by the center are the following: Working Women’s Society; Children Cultural Center; Al Quds Open University; Nablus Educational Center; UNRWA; Social Affairs Directorate; Directorate of Education; YMCA; Directorate of Youth and Sports; Jaffa cultural center; Mother Welfare and Counseling Society; General Union for the Disabled; General Labour Federation; Children Cultural Development Center; Women and Family Affairs Center; Save the Child Foundation; Palestinian Red Crescent Society; Salah Khalaf Center for Qualifying Youth Leadership; Health Care Union Committees; Community Based Rehabilitation program of the Disabled; Palestinian Socio-Psychologists Syndicate; as well as numerous meetings with local schools. 29 Jim Olwell, Report of Progress of Nablus Community Service Center, July 2000. 30 Jim Olwell, Report of Progress of Nablus Community Service Center, July 2000. 31 Israel and the Palestinian Authority for many years did not advance clocks at the same time – resulting in periods of time when there could be an hour difference between East and West Jerusalem. 32 Sonia Najjar, Rights & Access: The Story of Al-Quds University-Old City Community Action Center, Jerusalem 2000.

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33 Sonia Najjar, Rights & Access: The Story of Al-Quds University-Old City Community Action Center, Jerusalem 2000. 34 www.nad.ps/en/publication-resources/agreements/nusseibeh-ayalon-agreement. 35 Nicky Aumond, Annual Report to CIDA: 1999–2000, Op. cit. 36 Ziad Faraj and Najwa Silwadi: “A Proposal of the Establish of a Practice Center in East Jerusalem,” June 1999. 37 Minutes of Meeting: Jim Olwell, Najwa Silwadi, Mohammad (Ziad) Faraj, October 14, 1999. 38 Al Quds Steering Committee, Meeting Minutes, October 1999. 39 Nicky Aumond, Annual Report to CIDA: 1999–2000, Op. cit. 40 Jim Torczyner, Al QUDS Progress report, October 24, 1999. 41 Jim Torczyner, Confidential Field Notes, October 25, 1999. 42 Jim Olwell, Al Quds Practice Center Report Following February Visit, February 2000. 43 Jim Olwell, Al Quds Practice Center Report Following February Visit, February 2000. 44 Jim Torczyner, Note to Nicky Aumond, June 2000. 45 Community Advocacy, Highlights 2000. 46 Community Advocacy, Highlights 2000, Op. cit. 47 Community Advocacy, Highlights 2000, Op. cit. 48 Nicky Aumond, Annual Report to CIDA: 1999–2000, Op. cit. 49 Nicky Aumond, Annual Report to CIDA: 1999–2000 Op. cit. 50 Her Majesty Queen Noor Inequality and Peace Building: Challenges in the New Millennium McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building, March 14, 2000. 51 This discussion is drawn from the Minutes of the International Executive Committee, Montreal, March 14, 2000. 52 Minutes of the International Executive Committee, Montreal, March 14, 2000. 53 Minutes of the International Executive Committee, Montreal, March 14, 2000.

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Empowering the marginalized in times of violent conflict

Our third cohort of 10 fellows arrived during the summer of 2000 – four Israelis, three Palestinians, and three Jordanians. Three Jewish women and one Bedouin man formed the Israeli contingent. Two of the three Palestinians were women, while the three Jordanians were men. It was the first cohort to achieve a gender balance – an overall programmatic goal. Talal Al Qdah would become the standard-bearer for our rights-based practice work in Jordan. Raised in the city of Al-Salt,1 Talal, of modest means, assumed family responsibility for his mother and his five siblings at a young age after his father passed away. Mild mannered, empathetic, and patient, Talal enrolled at Baghdad University to study social work and graduated in 1984. His studies, however, were interrupted when an army officer entered classrooms of the university and drafted all males – regardless of citizenship – into the Iraqi army to fight in their long war against Iran. Talal spent much of his military service composing romantic letters for his fellow, often illiterate, soldiers that they could send back home to their girlfriends or wives and sent his earnings from this enterprise back home to support his family. Talal worked for the Ministry of Social Development – becoming the director of social development in the Jordan Valley, Salt and Northern Shouneh and a lecturer at Princess Rahma College. Over 15 years of professional activity, Talal was well-known and had an excellent reputation across the NGO and development communities. Rad al Hadid, sponsored by the Jordan Red Crescent, would become an excellent spokesperson and community organizer for the program. His English was strong, and his outgoing, positive personality complemented Talal’s very poor English and quieter disposition. He had worked for many years at the Jordan Red Crescent and coordinated the Refugee Center. From Palestine, An Najah University selected Bilal Salameh, who arrived with his wife and five children. Bilal taught at An Najah, served as the coordinator of social and cultural activities for the Dean of Students, and was chief of the Palestinian Universities’ Teacher and Employees Union. Upon his return from McGill, Bilal was appointed the dean of students – able to transmit his vision of academic and student activism and social service spirit throughout the student body. Al-Quds selected two young women. Najwa Safadi and Abeer Abudayeh had recently completed bachelors social work studies at Bethlehem University. In their

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early 20s, Abeer and Najwa had several years of experience working with women, the disabled, and released prisoners. Of the Israelis, Sarit Zik, a left-of-center, warm, authentic, caring vegan with a degree in social work from Tel Aviv University, had worked as a community social worker in Jaffa. Upon her return, Sarit established Community Advocacy’s Food Cooperative in Beersheba. Morad El-Sana, a Bedouin lawyer from the Negev with a sharp commitment to defending equal rights of Palestinians within Israel, pushed forward Community Advocacy’s Beersheba legal clinic. Many of the incoming fellows had met at our July conference in Amman. They arrived in Montreal earlier and their entry – with the assistance of host families – was much smoother. Nicky Aumond’ s mother hosted fellows. Her warmth and humanity earned her the program honorific “Mum” from Talal, Rad, and Bilal, which continued with subsequent generations of fellows. She would later travel to the region to visit them and remained in close touch with them for the rest of her days. Sarit, Morad, Talal, Rad, and Bilal became a tight-knit group. Their relationship went far beyond academics and studying. They traveled together to Quebec City in the dead of winter and slept in its famous Ice Hotel. None had ever skied before, but that didn’t stop them – it only prepared them for skydiving in summer. When Sarit later got married in Israel, Talal obtained a special visa and traveled by bus from Jordan to attend her wedding near Tel Aviv. Here they were, two Jordanians, a Palestinian, an Israeli Bedouin lawyer – all men – and an Israeli woman – on mountaintops in Canada and then in the hot, dusty low-income neighborhoods at home to advance rights-based practice across borders. McGill continued to support the program. Estelle Hopmeyer – Acting Director of the School of Social Work – and Martha Crago, then Dean of Graduate Faculty, shepherded a two-year masters in social work for cohorts who lacked a bachelors in social work through the administration and the Board of Governors.2

Intifada and the region While relationships were forming among the fellows, the peace process between Israel and Palestine was unravelling and erupting into violence. In the summer of 2000, the Camp David II Middle East Peace summit convened by President Bill Clinton failed with Prime Minister Ehud Barak and Palestinian Authority Chairman Yasser Arafat blaming each other for the failure.3 On September 28, Israeli opposition leader Ariel Sharon, together with a Likud party delegation surrounded by hundreds of Israeli riot police, visited the Temple Mount. Al-Aqsa mosque is part of the compound and is the third holiest site in Islam. It is also the site of the Jewish people’s temples and the holiest ground for Jews. According to Likud spokesman Ofir Akunis, the purpose was to “show that under a Likud government [the Temple Mount] will remain under Israeli sovereignty”4 – accusing Barak of government readiness to concede the site to the Palestinians.

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Some 10 days earlier, Palestinians observed their annual Memorial Day for the 1982 massacres in Lebanon’s Sabra and Shatila refugee camps. The Kahan Commission had concluded in 1983 that Sharon, who was Defense Minister during the massacre, bore personal responsibility “for ignoring the danger of bloodshed and revenge” and “not taking appropriate measures to prevent bloodshed.”5 Sharon resigned as Defense Minister but remained in the Israeli cabinet. Shortly after Sharon left the Temple Mount, Palestinian Jerusalemites rioted. Israeli police responded with tear gas and rubber bullets, while protesters hurled stones and other projectiles, injuring 25 policemen – one seriously. At least three Palestinians were wounded by rubber bullets.6 In the days that followed, demonstrations erupted all over the West Bank and Gaza. Israeli police responded with live fire and rubber-coated bullets. In the first five days, at least 47 Palestinians were killed, and 1,885 were wounded.7 According to The New York Times, many in the Arab world, including Egyptians, Palestinians, Lebanese, and Jordanians, point to Sharon’s visit as the beginning of the Second Intifada and derailment of the peace process.8 On October 12, 2000 a Palestinian Arab mob lynched two Israeli Defense Force reservists, who had accidentally entered the Palestinian Authority-controlled city of Ramallah in the West Bank. The brutality of the event, captured in a photo of one of the perpetrators waving his bloodstained hands to the crowd below, sparked international outrage and further intensified the ongoing conflict. During the first month of the Intifada, 141 Palestinians were killed, and 5,984 were wounded while 12 Israelis were killed and 65 wounded.9 Over the course of the five-year intifada, 1,137 Israelis and 4,281 Palestinians were killed. Seventy eight per cent of the Israeli casualties and 35 per cent of the Palestinian casualties were non-combatant civilians.10 An international fact-finding committee, led by former U.S. Senator George Mitchell, determined that We have no basis on which to conclude that there was a deliberate plan by the Palestinian Authority (PA) to initiate a campaign of violence at the first opportunity; or to conclude that there was a deliberate plan by the Government of Israel to respond with lethal force. However, there is also no evidence on which to conclude that the Palestinian Authority made a consistent effort to contain the demonstrations and control the violence once it began; or that the Government of Israel made a consistent effort to use non-lethal means to control demonstrations of unarmed Palestinians. Amid rising anger, fear, and mistrust, each side assumed the worst about the other and acted accordingly. The Sharon visit did not cause the “Al-Aqsa Intifada.” But it was poorly timed, and the provocative effect should have been foreseen. More significant were the events that followed: the decision of the Israeli police on September 29 to use lethal means against the Palestinian demonstrators; and the subsequent failure of either party to exercise restraint.11

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The violence generated fear and uncertainty and profoundly disrupted not only the peace process but all aspects of ordinary life. Road closures, curfews, and armed checkpoints caused endless delays, humiliation, and frustration for ordinary Palestinians. The drive from Jerusalem to Nablus, which normally took me about an hour and a half, would now require four to five hours of travel time – and could only take place in an armored Canadian diplomatic car. Palestinian institutions and schools were often closed, and there were severe restrictions on commerce and construction. Regional reactions were swift. An immediate ban was declared by the Arab League, prohibiting all contact between Israeli and Arab organizations. We had plans for a January conference, a March executive committee meeting in Montreal, and the submission of a joint project to the European Union. Could we still go ahead with these plans notwithstanding the ban? Community Advocacy was providing professional support to the Al-Quds center in East Jerusalem and to the Jordanian center in Amman. Could this continue? Our Palestinian centers had only been in operation for a year; how would they cope with the disruption and violence and its impact on its staff and clientele? How do we see the future? With these questions in mind, I made a short visit to the region in November 2000 to meet with each partner in Israel, Palestine, and Jordan. On the ground, I witnessed scenes of devastation, ordinary roads destroyed by tank tracks and burning tires, long delays, angry outbursts, and unnecessarily disrespectful treatment of people and inspection of cars at checkpoints. Deep anxiety and fear were felt among ordinary Palestinians and ordinary Israelis – constantly on the lookout for terrorist attacks or a military incursion. No one knew how long this would continue or the impact it would have on their lives. Restrictions on travel rendered interaction among the McGill Middle East Program partners difficult and complex. Staff at Al Quds experienced long delays at checkpoints to get to and from the center in the Old City. As well, closures in Nablus made it difficult for persons from surrounding villages to get assistance from the center. For other staff persons, routine movement to and from work became tedious, difficult, and, at times, dangerous.12 Palestinian universities were often shut down by Israeli military orders. Checkpoints and closures stranded many Palestinian students – unable to travel between home and school. Military incursions into Palestinian neighborhoods and the accompanying violence traumatized families and entire neighborhoods.13 I visited An Najah while Nablus was under complete closure – making it impossible to enter or leave if not traveling in a diplomatic car. Naser Tibi told me that it would be very difficult under today’s circumstances for Palestinians to meet with Israelis – irrespective of their relationship and past working together. The situation can change from day to day, and I cannot predict what the situation will be in a few months’ time.14

Empowering the marginalized 193 Naser wanted us to proceed with the planned conference in January 2001 but to hold it in Cyprus. An Najah – in Nablus – the heartland of occupied Palestine responded to the needs of the marginalized populations within their reach with passion, flexibility, and commitment. Over the course of the 2000–01 academic year, our Community Service Center at An Najah University in Nablus organized volunteer tutors for 500 children identified as “slow learners”; 30 elderly persons – many of whom were disabled – received home assistance; two deaf children from very poor families received free hearing aids obtained by the center; fifteen disabled children received support in school integration and in obtaining vital medical equipment; ongoing blood transfusions were organized for 70 thalassemia patients; friendly visiting and advocacy services were organized for 30 homebound seniors; and 300 persons were assisted at the storefront. In addition, through the crisis information program, the center worked with volunteers to help offset the effects of violence and bombing on young children. Forty-three sessions were held in kindergartens – reaching 827 children. Nine meetings took place in affected neighborhoods which reached 140 mothers.15 All these programs were volunteer-driven. Al-Quds University’s Community Action Center contended with similar obstacles. Ziad Faraaj, who lived in Bethlehem, left the program – unable to obtain a permit to travel to work in East Jerusalem. Najwa Silwadi, who lived in Ramallah, often spent up to six hours traveling to and from her work at the center in the Old City – a trip that otherwise would take 20 minutes each way. Najwa’s determination was truly exceptional. She would find holes in the barriers that she could squeeze through, and I would meet her and pick her up on the other side. The competition between Najwa and Ziad described earlier was settled by circumstances and Najwa’s determination. Al-Quds and An Najah mobilized leadership at both centers quickly and worked collaboratively with other NGOs to develop emergency and first aid services in their communities. They then took leading roles helping families and teachers to support children who are exposed to violence, fear, and death.16 With schools often closed, the centers organized volunteers and found space in the community that became ad hoc schools, social service and recreation centers in the neighborhoods most afflicted. Najwa led a core group of volunteers and students to assist more than 50 families referred by other NGOs unable to help them. As Palestinian Jerusalemites receive benefits from Israeli institutions, difficulties of inaccessibility are often compounded. Najwa and Barbara met or talked regularly to discuss issues of access and to begin to understand why it took 10 times longer for Palestinian Jerusalemites to qualify for welfare than it did for Jewish Jerusalemites.

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Najwa was conflicted about meeting with Israelis, as she supported the antinormalization position. Yet, for the first time, she encountered Jewish people on a “normal” basis when she spent a year at McGill, most significantly, Sheila Goldbloom, who mentored Najwa. Najwa brought four young children with her to Montreal while her husband remained in Palestine. Sheila enlisted her own husband, Victor, a pediatrician, renowned public figure, and former Quebec cabinet minister, to assist with Najwa’s children. Such acts of kindness jolt deeply held feelings and attitudes about “the other.” *** While direct exchanges among our Israeli, Palestinian and Jordanian partners became sporadic and discreet, Community Advocacy advanced rights by the numbers and its policy impact. In the 2000–2001 academic year, Community Advocacy volunteers assisted 7,000 residents in the Beersheba and Jerusalem storefronts. Two out of three storefront consumers in Beersheba were recent Russian immigrants – contending with multiple issues impacting on their integration. Direct outreach – including a home advocacy program for seniors to assist them to access resources from their homes – jumped to over 5,000 people – in total, directly reaching more than 12,000 residents – principally through volunteers and: “By working through schools, community centers, and senior centers, 660 teens and 540 seniors learned about the rights unique to their age group.” More than three quarters of the board members in Beersheba and Jerusalem came from the local communities. Although Amal el-Sana completed her McGill program and left Community Advocacy to establish her own organization, AJEEC,17 the outreach and advocacy to the Bedouin community intensified on the foundations she established. About 400 Bedouins traveled to Beersheba to gain assistance at Community Advocacy. Seventeen hundred Bedouins were also assisted at tables Community Advocacy set up at the National Insurance Offices, the Association of Unrecognized Villages, the Post Office in the Al Said Bedouin village, and at the Mother and Infant Care Center in Kassefe. Community Advocacy assisted Bedouin women to bring water to their villages: “We were approached by a Bedouin woman whose village had no running water. In order to gain access to water, a village must appoint a representative to collect funds, gain approval from the local administration, and act as a liaison to Mekorot – Israel’s water supplier. Her village had nominated her as its representative, but the Bedouin Authority refused to appoint a woman to the position. We worked with her to persuade the Authority to accept her nomination. Since then she has succeeded in bringing water to her community and is now training other women to do the same.”18 Ben Gurion University continued to place social work students to carry out their field work at Community Advocacy Beersheba, and, Jimmy Weinblatt emerged

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as a key academic partner promoting social rights and cross border partnerships. Born in Alexandria, Egypt, his family moved to Israel in 1955. Professor Weinblatt obtained his PhD at the Hebrew University – specializing in social economics. Passionately committed to academic excellence and the advancement of crossborder academic cooperation, Jimmy’s progressive views on the Middle East and peace, his wisdom, understanding and relaxed style, his past experience working alongside Palestinian economists on an equal basis made Jimmy a driving force for many years on the program’s executive and management committee. In 2002, Jimmy was appointed rector of Ben Gurion University. In the same year, he became a founding member of the Aix Group – formed under the auspices of the Université Paul Cézanne-Aix-Marseille III in France, in coordination with the Peres Center for Peace in Israel and DATA Center for Studies and Research in Palestine.19 Merav Moshe returned to Israel in early 2001 employed as our regional coordinator and as a lecturer in the departments of social work and public policy at Sapir Academic College. Having advanced to candidacy in her interdisciplinary P.H.D. studies at McGill in social work and law, she graduated with honors in 2003 – after defending her thesis “Peace Building: The Role of Social Work and Law in the Promotion of Social Capital and Political Integration.” In Jerusalem, Community Advocacy opened a Food Coop – owned and operated by its 100 Arab and Jewish family members. The Coop negotiated with suppliers to buy dry goods at wholesale prices – reducing costs to members by 30 per cent. In addition to volunteering, members attend workshops on social policy to “gain a clearer understanding and begin to identify areas in which to work for change.”20 Putting together an Arab-Jewish food coop during the outbreak of the Intifada necessitated a great deal of outreach and discussion in both communities to realize that each can gain by joining the other to bring down the cost of food. Community Advocacy successfully lobbied to include free flu shots for seniors in the Health Ministry budget and had illegal charges for drug and oxygen therapy rescinded. Having a law passed so that tenants could purchase their apartments at discounted rates, Community Advocacy turned its attention to the ecological environment in which tenants lived. They organized against the building of 1000 apartments in the Katamon valley – just down the street from the Community Advocacy office – as one of the last remaining areas of green space which offers nature and wildlife to the 35,000 neighborhood residents. In March 2001, 400 people demonstrated against the construction plan, then negotiated with the Committee for the Protection of Agricultural Land Open Spaces and stopped the development. Citizens came together – irrespective of religion or ethnicity – to promote this “people’s park” for all its residents. The Hebrew University recognized Community Advocacy as an interdisciplinary training center for law and social work students. In the same year, Community Advocacy Jerusalem received the Mayor’s award as an “Outstanding Voluntary Organization”. Notwithstanding these accomplishments, Montreal’s Federation/CJA satisfied its funding commitment to Community Advocacy at the end of 2000 and chose

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not to renew its funding. The Federation had provided initial and ongoing funding to Community Advocacy/Beersheba since 1992. In their opinion, it was time to move on to other projects. Nevertheless, Community Advocacy was able to expand its funding base and increase its budget from both Israeli sources such as The National Kibbutz Movement, The Jerusalem Municipality, The Jewish Agency for Israel, Bridges for Peace/The Israeli Food Network as well as foreign sources such as The New York Jewish Federation, the Seattle Federation, foundations, corporations and individual donors. *** Jordan was not directly impacted by the Intifada, but the events stirred up strong anti-Israel sentiments. Averse to risk-taking generally, Jordanians became more reticent about direct contact with Israelis. The visit at the beginning of the Intifada by Jordanian staff and volunteers for training at Community Advocacy was an important milestone which also provided them an opportunity to visit and pray at the Al Aqsa mosque in Jerusalem – a paramount religious and emotional experience. Further visits were suspended, and Israel issued an advisory warning Israelis against travel to Jordan. The active involvement of Mohammed Al-Hadid helped to mitigate this environment. Under Mohammed’s leadership, our partners submitted joint projects to funders such as the European Union with The Jordan Red Crescent being the lead applicant as an organization in the Middle East. I invited Mohammed to visit Israel and meet with representatives of Mogen David Adom – the Israeli equivalent of the Red Cross or Crescent, senior persons at the Israeli Foreign Ministry, and to visit Ben Gurion University. “At the conclusion of his visit, an agreement was developed whereby Israel would assist the Jordan Red Crescent to expand its intensive care facility.” You will discover in the next chapter how this initial meeting created the personal connections to push through Mogen David Adom’s acceptance into the International Red Cross and Red Crescent at a meeting in Geneva chaired by Mohammad at which I was present.21 The graduate social work program at the University of Jordan gained traction in the 2000–2001 academic year. Fifty students were admitted since the program had started, and it now provided a full complement of courses. With the return of the second contingent of Jordanians from Canada, a specialized program was developed for fifteen students from the Ministry of Social Development. I happened to be in Amman when the first group of students were defending their theses. Although conducted in Arabic, I knew what was going on and felt great joy in seeing the first graduates go out to practice in the community, in health institutions, family services, and the military.22 Progress on the establishment of the practice center, however, continued to lag. A new academic program was a comfortable fit with the University but developing professional practice in the community was not. Despite good intentions, university bureaucracy and its regulations and procedures were not designed for

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community practice and it had neither a history of being directly involved in reaching out to the most marginalized to empower them, nor an ethos of community activism. Consequently, there was no consistent leadership with authority to make things happen. The four fellows who returned from Canada were expected to divide their time between teaching and the center, but only Salah made consistent efforts to move the center along.23 With the absence of progress, I visited President Maani together with Canadian Ambassador Mike Molloy. We advised him that we would have to freeze funding for the center until and unless there was significant progress. After a visit to the region in October, Nicky Aumond wrote President Maani and set out objectives to be realized before we would unfreeze funds. These included “signs of ownership (management structures) by University and by local community; readiness to provide storefront services; a resource directory on existing services and housing compiled; volunteer recruitment and training material ready, and the presence of a committed and competent staff team.”24 Mohammad Al-Hadid assigned two Jordan Red Crescent staff to work with Salah to help get the center going. I proposed a partnership which would include the Red Crescent as an equal partner without the bureaucracy of the University. President Maani objected, wanted to maintain University control, and designated Vice President Sami Khaswneih to ensure that the objectives set in October be met. Finally, in April 2001, enough progress had been made for us to unfreeze the center funding. “The center did develop its resource directory and set up a local committee so that people from the neighborhood could provide direction and express themselves about priority needs they were experiencing. The Center began providing services around the end of April, initially operating two days a week. Expectations have been high in the community. As soon as the center opened its doors, people were present expressing their needs for services.”25 *** Now was not the time to avoid and perhaps lose contact with each other. Rather, it was imperative to not let violence and despair obscure our vision to advance social rights in each of our countries and regionally. We did not see ourselves entering the political debates directly. Instead, relying on McGill’s umbrella role, we created discreet opportunities to learn from each other and advance our partnerships. With the outbreak of the intifada, we postponed our planned fall 2000 executive committee meeting but held a regional conference in Cyprus commencing on January 3, 2001 with the arrival of contingents from Jordan, Israel, Palestine and Canada. The conference – “Common issues in the management and development of community practice centers: a regional perspective” – focused on the work being carried out at each of the centers as well as the impact of the Intifada and Israel’s response. Merav Moshe, in the final stages of writing her PhD thesis, was our scholar in residence and led a session on “Promoting Civil Society in a Period of Uncertainty”. Connecting around our common work, sharing stories about issues, techniques, and people helped generate solidarity and a sense of

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shared destiny despite the violence in the region and the ambivalence and worries present in the room. This shared destiny and contact fueled our partners and kept the networking going during turbulent times – as well as the knowledge that we were doing something unique, important, and necessary for the betterment of our own countries. Getting together provided opportunities for informal times. Our group of about 20 Arabs and Jews descended on a nightclub where Amal got on stage, joined the band and played the drums as we all danced together and caused somewhat of a spectacle among the Cypriots who were surprised to see our camaraderie, given their own Greek and Turkish divisions. Most of all, we asked each other “What next?” The CIDA funding would run out at the end of 2002. We needed to think beyond this grant and how we could sustain our initiatives. We were having difficulties accessing American and European funding being Canadian, and, as a singular, regional program with partners from Palestine, Jordan and Israel, our uniqueness did not fit the bilateral funding envelopes of the Canadian government. We were getting mixed and contradictory signals from CIDA officials. The ambassadors and development officers stationed in the region saw our work firsthand and valued and supported it. Yet, the response of senior officials in Ottawa was muted at best to a second phase of funding. I mistook what was transpiring and assumed that the persons in the field had the most significant voice, and that the officials in Ottawa would not give us any indications of possible future funding prior to receiving a formal proposal from us and then feedback from the Canadian officials in the field. It would take about a year for me to realize that I was making a serious error in judgement regarding the intentions of senior officials and how decisions get made in Ottawa. There are many difficulties in reading CIDA officials. Canadian policy limits tours of duty to three years – which gives a newly arrived development officer little time to get things done and see things through. By the time officials are settled, familiar, understand and meet the network of partners and government ministries, they may have a year to get something going before beginning to transfer files and pack up. Consequently, field officials play a role in a process which they rarely initiate or see through to their fruition. CIDA officials rotate between tours of duty in the field followed by a posting in Ottawa – not necessarily related to their previous foreign tour but always with greater authority when positioned in head office than in the field. The rationale for this – as it is with many foreign services – is to avoid officials getting too entrenched locally. At the same time, this policy mitigates against the accumulation of country-specific social capital and expertise. Programmatic decisions originate and are formulated in Ottawa and shaped by the governing political party. Elected officials come and go, but paid government officials who manage the bureaucracy remain. Senator Hugh Segal’s 2007 report found that at any one time 80 per cent of CIDA officials were based at the head office in Ottawa with only 20 per cent in the field.26 Policy and funding decisions get made removed from and out of view from those affected, and, from the grassroots organizations on the ground seeking and capable of implementing solutions.

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Governments hold consultations which are structured in a way that only central, major stakeholders get to participate in. Governments contract most initiatives to large international organizations to administer programs because it is convenient and makes it easier to focus on reporting and administrative requirements. But it doesn’t end there. As these large international government sub-contractors are also removed from the communities to be served, they, after extracting administrative costs, sub-contract with the grassroots organizations to deliver the programs which they had scant opportunity to influence. International interlocutors have developed an industry in program monitoring, reporting, Logical Frame Analysis, and capacity-building. They in turn seek out NGOs on the ground which have learned this lingo. Through this process, governments privatize their development responsibilities, outsourcing them to consultants. CIDA officials monitor the monitors and are increasingly removed from the realities and opportunities on the ground. *** Israeli prime ministerial elections were held on February 6, 2001. Voter turnout was 62.3 per cent – the lowest for any national election held in Israel – partially due to many Israeli Arabs boycotting the poll in protest of October 2000 events in which 12 Israeli Arabs were killed by the police. Barak could not overcome his perceived failings at the 2000 Camp David talks with the Palestinians, and the “turbine affair” in which Barak yielded to the religious parties’ pressure, violating previous promises. Sharon defeated Barak massively – 62 per cent to 38 per cent – but, because there had been no Knesset elections, Labor remained the largest party. The result was a national unity government involving eight parties.27 New Knesset elections in 2003 resulted in a landslide victory for Sharon’s Likud. The trend was clear. A Sharon-led government would focus on the security of Israelis which would entail continued curfews, hardship and closures for Palestinians. *** We expanded our executive committee at our Montreal March meetings to include center directors and guests from the Palestinian NGO project, the World Bank, the New Israel Fund, and the National Endowment for Democracy. The fellows presented their experience and had an opportunity to meet with their center director and discuss their future work back home. The fellows reacted differently to the events transpiring in the region and to each other. Earlier, I described the depth of relationships that developed among a tight knit group of two Israelis, two Jordanians, and a Palestinian. Notwithstanding, each member of the group was personally affected as their homes, communities, and family members experienced the ongoing violence. To varying degrees, they felt powerless and frustrated, and feared for the safety of their loved ones. Fellows felt conflicted. Here in Canada, they were enjoying good relations with each other while their neighborhoods back home burned. One Israeli fellow – an activist in the Women in Black peace movement, distanced herself from the other

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Israelis and often denigrated them as being part of the problem. We realized that we needed to go beyond cultural and educational events and find ways to discuss as a group the feelings which each carried. Over time, we developed a methodology. Each week, the group met for half a day, in what became known as “the narrative exchange”. Our discussions did not focus on the large political issues; nor seek to assign blame and responsibility to one side or the other. Rather, we understood that each fellow was experiencing this conflict deeply and personally and was wired to reject ideas which did not fit their narrative. At the same time, they were open to each other as individuals, as fellow students, and as social activists. Our point of departure was not political or ideological. It was personal. Each week a different fellow presented their personal narrative, their experiences, and what led them to join this program. Each fellow’s personal history was directly impacted by the turmoil in the region. And, we found that when fellows spoke of their personal history, the others in the group listened attentively, could relate to it and developed empathy for the person’s experiences and consequent views. Over the years, “The Narrative Exchange Program” became a central feature of MMEP/ICAN. Group building also took place through social events, including regular visits to my home on Lake Champlain in Northern New York, just over the border from Montreal, where all took turns cooking on the barbeque, an alternative tour of the City organized by L’Autre Montreal, a Pow-Wow at the Old Port that provided an opportunity to learn about Canada’s native peoples, apple picking and fall leaf touring in the Quebec countryside, music with the Montreal Jubilation Gospel Choir, and a group tour of the Kahnawake First Nation reserve.28 In the second semester, fellows spent two days a week in field placements. They worked with immigrants and refugee tenants living in sub-standard housing conditions, participated in one-on-one advocacy and legal counseling, researched community economic development projects, and visited government of Quebec Local Community Service Centers which decentralized certain health and social services to render them more accessible.29,30 Talal Qdah’s field placement was at a senior center where a coincidental encounter had a profound impact on him and the group as a whole. “One of the Jordanian fellows did his field placement at the Cummings Center for the Aged which is part of the Montreal Jewish community complex where the Holocaust Museum is located. One afternoon, the Jordanian fellow decided to inquire about the museum. An older man, a volunteer with the museum and himself a Holocaust survivor, asked our Jordanian fellow if he wanted the short or the long tour. Talal wanted the long tour and made arrangements to return a couple of days later. Not only was he moved by what he saw and what he learned, he was astonished that he had spent all his life living next door to Israelis and had never heard of this before. He shared this with his colleagues, and when they expressed interest, organized a visit for them.”31 Talal developed a profound relationship with “Archie” the volunteer and would meet with him often. It opened his eyes and that of the entire group who met with Archie and heard his story.

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On June 22, 2001, close to 100 people gathered at the McCord Museum for a send-off ceremony for the fellows. Gretta Chambers chaired the event, the Honorable Sheila Finestone gave the keynote, and Associate Vice Principal Martha Crago presented each fellow with a certificate attesting to their successful completion of their year at McGill. Some fellows returned home quickly. Talal, Yvonne, and Fawaz each had children excitedly waiting their return from Canada. Especially Talal, who lived frugally in Montreal and was able to send money to his family monthly from his scholarship had become a major contributor to Walmart, and now fully laden with gifts, he was anxious to distribute them to his family. Morad, Sarit, and Rad traveled out West, and tried skydiving for the first time. What took me totally by surprise were separate phone calls and subsequent meetings with Morad El Sana – a Bedouin fellow from Israel – and Abeer Abudayeh – a Palestinian fellow from Bethlehem. Unbeknownst to anyone in the program, they were courting and spoke to me before they announced their engagement. Their subsequent marriage which Nicky and I attended in Bethlehem in 2003 became a major Israeli Supreme Court Case regarding family reunification for Palestinians.32 *** The fellows returned to the Middle East in the summer of 2001 to find a very different situation than when they had left a year before. Although acutely aware of the intifada and Israel’s response, they now returned to experience its effects directly while working to promote the empowerment of the most marginalized. Yet, even before they could settle in, the tragic events of 9/11 would reshape the world, the Middle East, and efforts to solve the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Terrorism became a global concern and focus of Western foreign policy following 9/11. It also spawned a contagion of Islamophobia. An American-led invasion of Iraq and a protracted war saw U.S. combat troops on the ground until 2011 after the toppling of Saddam Hussein, an insurgency, civil war, and the birth of ISIS. The war in Iraq and the focus on terrorism increased the strategic importance of Jordan as the central staging ground and base of operations for the U.S. and other countries and multiplied the representation of western governments and international aid organizations in Amman.33 The stability of the Western allied, moderate Jordanian King Abdullah became a high priority – resulting in increased aid and support. The war brought with it an influx of 700,000 Iraqi refugees to Jordan – increasing the total population by more than 10 per cent.34 Early arrivals reportedly came with suitcases stuffed with U.S. dollars, built the Royale Hotel, and invested in other businesses. Most, however, fled the violence having had little to begin with. They found shelter in low-income neighborhoods of Amman – taxing services and increasing congestion. Prices rose and basic commodities became less affordable, aggravating social tensions. “These displaced Iraqis often have little choice but to stay due to the ongoing violence and civil strife in Iraq. They include members of the wealthy and upper-middle class, who are able to conduct business and

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live comfortably in Jordan, as well as less fortunate Iraqis who had the resources to flee to Jordan but are only marginally able to subsist there.35” The impact of 9/11 would ultimately be felt in the slums of Amman and impact directly on our work. The events of September 11 took place at a time when incidents of Palestinian terror skyrocketed, and Israel’s escalated response led to closures, curfews, arrests, and numerous civilian casualties. The two events – 9/11 and the Palestinian uprising – and Israel’s response reshaped relationships between the United States and Israel and between the United States and the Palestinian Authority. Among Israelis and Palestinians, the people most exposed – the poor, the vulnerable, the disabled suffered the direst economic consequences of the conflict. Yossi Verter analyzed the impact on U.S.–Israel relations as follows: “The terror attack in the U.S. occurred one year after the start of the second intifada, at the height of a wave of suicide bombings in Israel. Israel had a new prime minister, Ariel Sharon. The United States had a new president, George W. Bush. His father, President George H. W. Bush, had been very tough on Yitzhak Shamir’s Likud government, withholding $10 billion in vital economic guarantees. Sharon, who had been a minister in Shamir’s government, was persona non grata in Washington during the elder Bush’s administration term. He was considered an extremist, the settlers’ patron. Sharon had good reason to fear that Bush Jr. would adopt his father’s attitude toward him. Recalls Gideon Sa’ar, then Cabinet secretary “A few months before September 2001, the Mitchell Report was released, a study led by Senator George Mitchell that examined the roots of the second intifada. Among other things, it determined that Israel must cease all settlement construction, including that meant to accommodate natural growth.”36 Gil Troy described the shift in President Bush’s position: “September 11 was a crucial step in Israel gaining American approval for military incursions in the West Bank in April 2002. Subsequently, strategic, diplomatic and military cooperation between the U.S. and Israel in their common war against terror further bonded the two countries – and many of their people.”37 In 2001, 182 Israelis were murdered in 83 terrorist attacks. This included the assassination of Rehavam Ze’evi, the Israeli tourism minister, at the Hyatt Hotel in Jerusalem one month after 9/11. On January 2, 2002, the Israeli Navy intercepted and seized a Palestinian freighter – the MV Karine A – in the Red Sea which was found to be carrying 50 tons of weapons which could have been used to attack coastal cities near Gaza such as Ashkelon, and Tel Aviv as well as the Ben Gurion International Airport. Despite Arafat’s denial of “any Palestinian involvement”, the United States president George W. Bush felt personally betrayed: “Arafat had lied to me. I never trusted him again. In fact, I never spoke to him again. By the spring of 2002, I had concluded that peace would not be possible with Arafat in power.”38

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Between January 1, 2002 and March 31, 2002, 156 Israelis were murdered in 36 Palestinian terrorist attacks. Ten of the attacks took place in Jerusalem. A week after a bomb blast killed 11 worshipers – including a five-month-old infant – in the Haredi neighborhood of Beit Yisrael during services for the conclusion of the Sabbath, another 11 Israeli Jerusalemites lost their lives when a bomb exploded at the Café Moment in the Rehavia section of West Jerusalem – in close proximity to the Prime Minister’s official residence. On March 27, 2002 a suicide bombing at the Park Hotel in Netanya during a Passover Seder killed 30 civilians and injured 140. Two weeks into April, a suicide bomber-a 17-year-old womanstepped off a bus and detonated herself at the Mahane Yehuda market on a Friday afternoon – killing six people and wounding 104 others. I was at the market that day when the bomb exploded – perhaps 300 meters from my apartment. The confusion, the sirens, the screams of the wounded, the quick arrival of first responders, the shattered windows and splattered produce jelled into one picture – fear, anger and panic. Prime Minister Sharon responded with two major initiatives which would reshape boundaries, relationships, and expectations for which the most marginalized in Palestine and in Israel would pay the bulk of the price. Sharon announced the construction of a separation wall which would form a contiguous 708-kilometer West Bank barrier to prevent Palestinian incursions. “The Security Fence is being built with the sole purpose of saving the lives of the Israeli citizens who continue to be targeted by the terrorist campaign that began in 2000. The fact that over 800 men, women and children have been killed in horrific suicide bombings and other terror attacks clearly justifies the attempt to place a physical barrier in the path of terrorists. As such, the State of Israel not only has the right but also the obligation to do everything in its power to lessen the impact and scope of terrorism on the citizens of Israel.”39 Palestinians call it an apartheid wall. Upon completion, the border traced by the barrier is more than double the length of the 1967 Green Line, with 15 per cent running along it or in Israel, while the remaining 85 per cent cuts at times 18 kilometers deep into the West Bank, isolating about nine per cent of it, leaving an estimated 25,000 Palestinians isolated from the bulk of that territory.40 Critics of the separation wall claim it serves geopolitical purposes. It seeks to redefine borders and annex Palestinian land under the guise of security. It undermines peace negotiations by unilaterally establishing new borders. The barrier severely restricts the travel of many Palestinians and impairs their ability to commute to work within the West Bank or to Israel. The barrier separates Palestinians from each other.41 The International Court of Justice issued an advisory opinion stating that the barrier is a violation of international law because much of it is set on Palestinian territory. In 2003, the United Nations General Assembly adopted a resolution that stated the wall contradicts international law and should be removed; the vote was 144–4 with 12 abstentions.42 Sharon’s second initiative, “Operation Defensive Shield,” was launched on March 29, 2002. Termed “a large-scale counter-terrorist offensive”, it was the

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largest military operation in the West Bank since the 1967 Six-Day War. The offensive began with an incursion into Ramallah placing Yasser Arafat under siege in his Ramallah compound, where he would be effectively confined until his death in 2004. Incursions followed into the six largest cities in the West Bank, and their surrounding localities. Israeli forces invaded Tulkarm and Qalqilya on April 1, Bethlehem the next day, and Jenin and Nablus the next. From April 3–21, Israel imposed strict curfews on civilian populations and restrictions of movement of international personnel, including at times prohibition of entry to humanitarian and medical personnel as well as human rights monitors and journalists.43 March 2002 saw an average of one suicide bombing every two days – killing 130 Israelis including approximately 100 non-combatants while a total of 238 Palestinians including at least 83 non-combatants were killed by Israeli troops.44,45 The United Nations Secretary General’s report found that “Combatants on both sides conducted themselves in ways that, at times, placed civilians in harm’s way. Much of the fighting during Operation “Defensive Shield” occurred in areas heavily populated by civilians and in many cases heavy weaponry was used.”46 In May 2002, Israeli troops pulled out of the Palestinian cities, but maintained troops around West Bank towns and villages, and continued to carry out raids on Palestinian cities and villages – often taking over for months at a time while imposing curfews and closures at will. Amnesty International described the impact of this military takeover: “In the past three years, curfews have crippled many towns and villages. On 9 July 2002, almost half of the West Bank’s 2.2 million population was under curfew in more than seventy different localities. During prolonged periods of 24-hour curfew, families are typically allowed out of their homes for a few short hours daily to stock up on essential provisions.”47

Nablus From the start of the second intifada, Nablus with a tradition of political activism – its nickname, jabal al-nar, means fire mountain – became a flash-point.48 Nablus was invaded by two infantry and one armored brigade on April 3, 2002. Clashes took place around refugee camps, and Israeli attack helicopters fired rockets at Palestinian positions in the main square and neighboring streets. The main attack focused on the Nablus casbah where there was heavy street combat. Armored bulldozers cleared away barricades. destroying walls within houses to get into the next house in order to avoid booby-trapped doors and road-side bombs. During the battle over 70 Palestinians were killed, with 64 heritage buildings heavily damaged or destroyed as well as Mosques, Churches, bath houses, soap factories and more than 60 houses with estimated damages of $80 million US.49 Nablus was placed under curfew on April 4, while I was in the region, and I visited there in a Canadian armored diplomatic car. As I entered the city, I saw a foursquare block compound had been totally leveled to the ground. Established first as a prison in Turkish times, it had become the regional administrative headquarters

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for the Palestinian government. Property records, financial records, birth and death certificates and countless other irreplaceable documents were decimated in the rubble. The city remained under curfew until April 22, was reinstated in June 2002, and, apart from one month when it was under night-only curfew, Nablus was under 24-hour curfew for five consecutive months.50 Located between two mountains, Nablus was closed off at both ends of the valley by Israeli checkpoints. For several years, movements in and out of the city were highly restricted. According to the United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs, 522 residents of Nablus and surrounding refugee camps, including civilians, were killed and 3,104 injured during Israeli military operations from 2000 to 2005.51

Impact on the poor Rather than a “peace dividend”, the most disadvantaged and vulnerable shouldered much of the damage. In 1998, I wrote: “War and violence pose a greater threat to the poor than to other segments of society. It is the poor who are more likely to live and serve on the front lines, who are unable to stockpile food, blankets and other essential supplies, who have many children or are too frail to be moved, who will be prevented from going to work and who are more likely to use public transportation. It is also in the overcrowded slums where despair and anger are expressed in violence within one’s own community and family and where alienation and extreme views fester. Money spent on armed conflict is money potentially taken away from available resources to reduce poverty or promote social inclusion.”52 The World Bank reported this impact on Palestine: “By the end of 2002, Real Gross National Income (GNI) had shrunk by 38 percent from its 1999 level. Unemployment stood at the end of 2002 at 37 percent of the workforce, after peaking at 45 percent in the Third Quarter”. “The economic crisis has seriously compromised household welfare. Many families have endured long periods without work or incomes, and despite the various employment generation efforts of the PA, donors and NGOs, many now depend on food aid for their daily survival. Coping with the situation has meant selling assets, borrowing from families, neighbors and shopkeepers and cutting consumption, including food.”53 Poverty rates expanded rapidly and the poor were getting poorer in 2002: With a 13 percent growth in the population of the West Bank and Gaza over the past three years, real per capita incomes are now 46 percent lower than in 1999, and poverty – defined as those living on less than US$2.1 dollar per day – afflicts approximately 60 percent of the population. The health status of the Palestinian population deteriorated measurably. Real per capita food consumption has dropped by up to a quarter when compared to 1998 levels.54

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Curfews, restrictions and check points were the main causes of this disintegration of Palestinian life, and fueled frustration, anger, violence, and, sometimes, defiance to which Israel responded with further repression. This cycle of violence continued for half a decade. “The proximate cause of the Palestinian economic crisis is closure, i.e. restrictions imposed by the Government of Israel on the movement of Palestinian goods and people across borders and within the West Bank and Gaza – restrictions which Israel views as essential to protect their citizens from violence. Closures take two major forms: internal restrictions reinforced by curfews, and external closure of the border between Israel and the Palestinian territories, including limitations on access by Palestinian workers to work in Israel and the Israeli settlements. The further sharp contraction of the Palestinian economy in 2002 resulted from the destruction, curfews and tight internal closures associated with Operation Defensive Shield and its aftermath. In March/April 2002, following an escalation of violence, Israeli Defense Force (IDF) operations transformed many West Bank cities, towns and villages into restricted military zones, with residents under sustained curfew for days at a time.”55

Palestinian rights based practice centers in a conflict zone How did our Palestinian centers respond to the escalating violence with no end in sight – causing catastrophic financial and emotional hardship in the face of continuing uncertainty? What can rights-based community practice centers do for and with the people they serve in face of fierce conflict? What rights does one advocate for? What can academic institutions do to play a direct role in safeguarding the welfare of the most marginalized? With a 5-month long curfew in Nablus, and schools and An Najah University shut down, The Community Service Center galvanized students and volunteers to create safe learning spaces for children – despite the curfew. The New York Times wrote up one of these improvised schools as follows: “Tracing the letter, A in the air, Jamila Mabruk introduced a group of Palestinian second-graders to the English alphabet this week in a cramped classroom set up in a shoemaking workshop. The children brought their chairs from home, a carpentry workshop contributed a blackboard, and the gray walls were brightened with stickers and colorful paper cutouts put up by Ms. Mabruk and two other volunteer teachers. The class was part of what people here call a “popular school,” informal lessons organized by Nablus residents in response to an Israeli Army curfew that has kept local schools shut since the second day of classes. “We’re fighting them with the A B C’s,” Ms. Mabruk, a 20-year-old college student, said of the Israeli soldiers who occasionally appear on the streets in tanks and armored personnel carriers. “They want us to be ignorant and backward. We say no. We want to learn.”

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Ms. Mabruk’s class was one of dozens that have sprung up across this city of 150,000, whose residents have been confined to their homes since June 21, with occasional breaks to stock up on supplies. To make up for the lost lessons, people here have organized classes in private apartments, unfinished buildings and other spaces donated by residents. Math, science, Arabic and English are taught by volunteers – teachers, college students, and professionals who normally work at other jobs. Students make their way to classes in their neighborhoods when soldiers are not around. “We’re doing what we can not to lose this generation,” said Ibrahim Hamouz, an engineer who was teaching fractions to a group of sixth graders in his sister’s unfinished apartment. Boys sat on the floor, notebooks in their laps, as Mr. Hamouz wrote figures on a marker board propped on a chair. Girls, some in school uniforms, sat in the back. Other grades met in adjacent rooms, some using homemade worksheets and photocopies from textbooks collected by the volunteers. “We in Palestine don’t have oil and gold, just human beings,” Mr. Hamouz said, “and we must educate these human beings, starting from the kids.” In another apartment donated by the Hamouz family, fifth-grade schoolgirls sitting on living room couches sang the Palestinian anthem at the start of the school day, watched by their teacher, Liana Hamouz, who normally works in an accounting firm. Ms. Hamouz, 24, said that in the first Palestinian uprising more than a decade ago, she lost precious years of education when schools were closed by the Israeli Army in response to violent protests by students. Abdallah Muna, a 22-year-old garage mechanic who donated his porch for classes, said he had had a similar experience. “In the first uprising I didn’t learn anything, and now I can barely read and write,” he said. “Why should these children be like me?” Organizers of the classes say they keep the children indoors during breaks to avoid trouble with Israeli patrols. Although there have been some reports of soldiers’ firing in the air to disperse students on their way to classes, many schoolchildren could be seen around town this week walking to and from the makeshift schools without incident, carrying stools and school bags. “We go out afraid and come back home afraid,” said Muhammad Kilani, 14, at the end of a school day in a cramped storeroom. But his classmate Yasmin Bakir said she preferred the imperfect study conditions to being cooped up at home. “It’s better than nothing,” she said. “We’re fed up.” For both teachers and students, the impromptu classes are part of a national struggle, a challenge to what they perceive as an Israeli attempt to paralyze daily life and unravel their society. “We won’t let them make us ignorant,” said Hind Jarar, 13, who was attending class on a porch. Hanadi Aghber, 26, a volunteer teacher, agreed, describing his efforts as “a form of resistance”.56 The rights illustrated in this New York Times story go well beyond the right to be educated and the right to associate with others, and represent empowerment in the best sense – by connecting people to give of themselves to create a future

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generation which is not only educated in math, language and science, but educated in self-affirmation and defiance with dignity and vision. So how did they do this? With Sami at the helm, and Bilal appointed as Dean of Students, the center galvanized 750 students to staff these schools and to respond to other needs. During this destruction, the Community Service Center established a housing rehabilitation program. Engineering and social work students went door to door to the most damaged houses – some due to Israeli tanks and bulldozers and others dilapidated by age (some houses were 800 years old) and inhabited by the most disadvantaged with little capacity to repair or improve their physical living situations. Homes were without bathrooms or kitchens, or had earthen floors, broken windows, and mold infected walls. Students reached out, designed alternatives with the people living there, got the material at cost, and physically rebuilt more than a dozen homes with their own hands during this perilous time. Over time, this program expanded and rehabilitated more than 600 homes at an average cost of $750 due to the power of voluntary effort. But it was more than physical buildings which were rehabilitated. The center was quilting the social fabric by connecting the most marginal and alone with young vibrant students who arrived at their doors with one message – you are part of us, you are important to us, and we are here to help. During this crisis, CSC expanded its services. By the end of 2002, the Community Service Center served over 8,000 people. The supportive education program tutored over 700 children each year; the elderly program mobilized thirty volunteers from the greater Nablus area to visit and provide assistance to lonely, isolated seniors; and the program for families of thalassemia patients provided support and voluntary blood donations. Students in volunteer placement, volunteer coordinators in hospitals, and reception centers received training from the center – not to mention the large number of community lectures, workshops and public meetings given and the popular schools and emergency first-aid training programs the center established. The CSC also obtained funding to establish a satellite project bringing rights-based practice to villages in the rural area around Nablus.57

Al-Quds Al-Quds University President Sari Nusseibeh was appointed by Yaser Arafat as the PLO Representative in Jerusalem in 2001 after the sudden death of Faisal Husseini. Shortly thereafter, Israeli authorities shut down Orient House, which was the unofficial PLO headquarters in Jerusalem. Sari adamantly opposed the militarization of the intifada, and in January 2002 called for the renunciation of suicide bombings and the establishment of Palestine as a demilitarized state: “A Palestinian state should be demilitarized – not because that’s what Israel demands, but in our own interest.”58 With Orient House shut down, Sari held open air discussions with young people about nonviolence on the amphitheater staircase at the entrance to the Damascus Gate in the Old City. This vision and leadership were evident in Sari’s support and involvement in the establishment of the Al-Quds Community Action Center.

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He particularly supported combining legal and volunteer advocacy to ensure that Palestinians residing in East Jerusalem received the same benefits and access as Israelis living in West Jerusalem. Through a grant from the European Union, the center opened an ongoing legal clinic to assist residents to access services and protect their rights. The center, “situated in the Old City of Jerusalem in one of the most poverty stricken, densely populated neighborhood with high levels of unemployment, issues of drug addiction, school drop-outs, and poor housing.”59 Palestinian schools in East Jerusalem were often closed but for shorter durations than in Nablus. The center adopted the popular school concept. When schools reopened, the Community Action Center introduced civic education programs in 20 schools – where young people learn the tools of democracy and change through nonviolence. Overall, the center assisted more than 7,000 people “through a wide array of programs from the supportive education program which matches volunteers and children needing tutors, the outreach to families in the Old City, information sessions on topics of interest that affect people’s rights (health, housing, education, welfare, etc.), literacy classes for women, women’s groups, sessions for adolescent girls and young women, legal services, rights information sessions, training courses to volunteers, etc.”60 By the end of 2003, 3,984 Palestinian Jerusalemites were assisted through legal, social work, and volunteer advocacy. An additional 2,100 people were reached through door to door outreach. Community Action Center emerged as a leader in the Palestinian NGO community. It provided a 170- hour training program to representatives of 28 organizations on volunteer recruitment, training and management, and also spearhead a coalition of 10 organizations “that are fighting for Palestinian human rights in East Jerusalem, namely for access to basic social services for which they are entitled, such as health, social, and unemployment benefits”.61 A year later, in the midst of the Intifada, they were joined by 10 Jewish, Israeli NGOs led by Community Advocacy, met with the Knesset sub-committee on welfare, and argued position papers about the backlog of 16,000 East Jerusalem welfare claimants who had been waiting for a year and longer to have their claims processed. They prevailed, the Knesset subcommittee ordered additional resources to East Jerusalem, and all 16,000 claims were processed within three months. The CAC-Community Advocacy-led coalition affirmed the rights of taxpaying Palestinian residents of Jerusalem to access and receive benefits equal to what Jewish, Israeli residents received. In alliance with Jewish anti-poverty rightsbased organizations, the Knesset took heed of their demands. Yet, at the same time, there were sharp criticisms of this approach within the Palestinian NGO and academic communities which disavowed any cooperation with an occupying government and any form of normalization with Israel – even to attain basic provisions for the most marginalized among them. This unique tension between those demanding equal rights for all – irrespective of whoever is the government while forcing the Israeli government to pay the price of occupation through budgetary appropriations – and those refusing to

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engage with Israel persists in dividing Palestinians and reflects wider Palestinian political positions. This tension was reflected among the staff, board, and community of CAC, and CAC had to carefully balance fighting for basic rights while remaining part of the Palestinian mainstream.

Israel Poverty rates skyrocketed because of the intifada and impacted severely on both the Jewish and Arab Israeli populations. Sever Plocker, the Chief Economic Editor at the Yedioth Aharonot daily Israeli newspaper estimates the damage to the Israeli economy from just one year of Intifada – the year 2002 – at 3.8 per cent of GDP. Plocker noted that in October 2000, the unemployment rate was 8.5 per cent of the workforce and by 2002 it had reached 10.6 per cent – the highest unemployment rate ever known in Israel except for the first two years of the massive Soviet immigration. Since the outbreak of the Intifada, total productivity shrank, and the real wage of a typical worker was 8 per cent lower than in 2001. Plocker states that the absolute number of poor people since the Intifada started increased by 22 per cent, and one in three children in Israel lived in families below the poverty line. He attributes this largely to the cutbacks to the social safety net introduced by Benjamin Netanyahu when he was Minister of Finance in February 2003. A few weeks after his nomination, Mr. Netanyahu declared that Israel was lagging behind in the world economic race, not because of the Intifada and high defense spending, but because of “a system in which a smaller business sector must feed and support an enormous and expanding public sector”.62,63 In a definitive study – “The Occupation: Who Pays the Price” – Shlomo Swirski and Noga Dagan-Buzaglo of the Adva Institute detailed specific policies which deepened and worsened poverty in Israel: “The shock of the Second Intifada and the budget cuts adopted at the time underlie one of the most harmful reversals in the history of social policy in Israel. Massive cuts were made in 2002 and 2003 to the benefits paid out by the National Insurance Institute. These increased the number of Israelis living in poverty and weakened the support systems of low wage – earners, the unemployed, and large families.”64 In order to reduce the deficit while paying for an escalating military budget, the government carried out massive cuts to programs serving the poor. The government adopted work requirements for welfare recipients administered by private companies whose main goal was not to assist recipients to secure stable employment but to reduce the welfare rolls. Between September 2001 and September 2004, the Israeli government carried out eight budget cuts totaling some NIS 60 billion. These targeted, first and foremost, the social safety net and the education, health, welfare, and housing services. Swirski et al. observed that “as a result of the fiscal crisis wrought by the Second Intifada, the government decided to reduce its costs by tightening the criteria for eligibility, the amount of the stipend, and associated benefits. In the wake of these cuts, the average monthly allowance dropped from approximately NIS 2,700 in 2001 to NIS 2,000 in 2004. The number of recipients fell from some 142,000

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in 2001 to 92,000 in 2016, while the budgetary outlay dropped by about half – from NIS 4.6 billion in 2001 to NIS 2.3 billion in 2016.”65 Like “workfare” in the United States and Canada, these programs publicly stigmatize the poor, and blame them for their poverty. Netanyahu did so “with the help of the phrase ‘Let them go out to work,’ as if all recipients of income support were lazy people who preferred to “drain the state coffers.” In practice, a large number of them did work, but found it hard to make a living. These policies have brought about the highest levels of inequality ever in Israel, and one of the highest in the Western world.66 For many like the constituency of Community Advocacy, there were two wars going on – one against terrorism and another against the Israeli poor. As stated by Swirski et. al “This is the most glaring example of the link between neoliberalism within Israel and the long – running military occupation across the Green Line.”67 What can an organization like Community Advocacy do in light of the extraordinary cuts while working locally in diverse communities during a time of extreme conflict, violence and attacks on the Israeli poor? The organization works harder and more creatively alongside numerous feminists, anti-poverty, peace, human rights, worker rights, and civil liberties organizations by popularizing rights and ensuring the inclusion of those affected in the public debate. Community Advocacy’s 68 locally recruited, and professionally trained volunteers assisted seven thousand people at its storefronts in West Jerusalem and Beersheba in 2003. Over the decade since its inception, 52,401 residents directly benefited from Community Advocacy’s storefront services alone.68 Most of the issues confronting the people who visited our “rights stores” were directly compounded by the government policies described by Swirski resulting in reduced income, higher costs, and the elimination of services upon which they depended. Information came to us about the struggles of ordinary people in the neighborhoods from our volunteers, through people seeking assistance at the store fronts, and through direct outreach. More than 2,000 home visits were conducted in 2003 – educating community members, recruiting volunteers, and seeing directly what community members were experiencing – particularly those who were frail and disabled and unable to reach our street level storefronts. It was essential to get the word out about how these policies were affecting ordinary people and what they could do about it. “We conducted a series of rights education meetings where we provided information on how the government’s economic policies affect the residents in the neighborhoods in which we work. We organized meetings through each of the local welfare offices, through women’s clubs and single mothers’ groups, in addition to workshops for our own volunteers, activists and members of our food coop . . . and motivated residents to join our public advocacy activities.”69 Education was translated into action by raising the voices of the people most impacted by these policies and seldom heard. Through sit-ins in front of government offices, press conferences and media appearances, and publicizing “a eulogy for the Israeli welfare system”, letter writing campaigns, petitions, and advocating before the Knesset Finance committee where they described the negative impact

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of these harsh cutbacks, the voices of the people were heard. “These actions culminated in the daily presence of a Community Advocacy information table at the three month long single mother’s encampment which was set up in protest across from the Knesset.” The battles were fought from a rights perspective and resulted in some small and important victories. “Our activists succeeded in blocking a proposal to levy a value added tax on fruits and vegetables which would have made them unaffordable to many low-income families. Because they believe affordable agricultural produce to be a fundamental social right, our activists conducted a vigil outside the Knesset together with the Agricultural Lobby and convinced the Finance Ministry to withdraw the initiative.”70 Community Advocacy reversed a proposed government 500 per cent increase in rent for public housing tenants who received National Insurance income supplements. Door to door, Community Advocacy saw that these rent increases would lead to large scale evictions, high debt, and less available for food, schoolbooks and the like. “Upon learning of the proposed increase, our activists immediately held a series of neighborhood meetings to inform and to organize public housing residents to protest this harmful proposal. These local gatherings laid the groundwork for a public hearing before the Knesset Social Lobby where 200 residents voiced their protest. They also held a press conference at which residents announced their intentions to initiate a rent strike in which they would continue to pay rent at the present amount, but not a shekel of the increase which they could not afford. . . . (Consequently) the Housing Minister got agreement from the Treasury to cancel the increase, but he also promised to review the situation and establish a fair scale of rental fees for all public housing residents.”71 Community Advocacy promoted economic empowerment through the Jerusalem Food Co-op where membership grew to 290- Jewish and Arab families – reducing their monthly food bill by 30 per cent on average. Two more Food-Coops opened in 2004 – one in the Kiryat Menachem neighborhood in Jerusalem and the other in the Daled neighborhood in Beersheba. To promote access and Bedouin rights Community Advocacy secured a vehicle and staff and launched “The Rights Mobile”: a Storefront on Wheels in the Bedouin community. The idea of the storefront on wheels was to reach out directly to 27 unrecognized Bedouin villages that were not receiving crucial government services or being reached by other NGOs. Bringing rights to the people generated 2,218 advocacy cases in a single year. The Rightsmobile was able to secure birth related hospital coverage for Bedouin women and to have benefits reinstated by the National Health Insurance. Benefits were cut off because most Bedouins did not and could not respond to the mailed information about new procedures. Being unrecognized, these villages have no address – let alone post office. Letters mailed by National Insurance were returned to sender – until the Rightsmobile parked itself in the community. Subsequently, this program established a legal clinic in the village of Laqyiah – staffed by nine volunteer Bedouin lawyers who assist residents to access rights.

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These are the ways amid hardship, cutbacks, violence, and conflict, Community Advocacy, along with others, fought back, continued to advance rights, and generated creative responses. Its budget and staff contingent grew as did its sources of funding with a growing list of American, Canadian, European, And Israeli government, corporate, foundation and private funding.

Jordan While Jordan was not directly impacted by the Intifada, it also struggled with the impact of world events on the poor in their own country. The 9/11 attacks, followed by the American led invasion of Iraq in early 2003 led to Iraq, with large oilfields, cutting off its oil subsidies to Jordan which were worth $300-$600 million a year. The war upended Jordan’s security situation, as Jordan, years before the Syrian upheaval, faced an unstable situation to its east. And most visibly, the conflict displaced millions of Iraqis into Jordan and Syria. At a time of increased demand for an expanded social safety net, pressures from the International Monetary fund resulted in the military and security services becoming “the only sector growing in structural adjustment. Alongside decreasing social welfare allocations in general, the military’s budgets are increasing .  .  . Militarized liberalization serves as an alternative model for Middle East regimes, one that can furnish the foundation for semi-authoritarianism into the near future. This changing social base of the regime, illuminated through an examination of social welfare, must be recognized when tackling the perennial question of a democratic deficit in the Middle East.”72 According to the CIA World Fact Book for 2004, 30 per cent of the Jordanian population lived below the poverty line. The highest 10 per cent of household incomes in Jordan had 29.8 per cent of the wealth, while the lowest 10 per cent of households shared 3.3 per cent of the country’s wealth.73 The situation of Iraqi refugees was often dire. A staff report of the United States Senate Foreign Relations Committee noted: “Iraqi refugees in Jordan form invisible communities that only reluctantly make themselves known to the authorities and humanitarian workers. They typically live in cramped, barely heated basement apartments in neighborhoods that show no outward signs of an Iraqi presence.”74 The hardship was particularly dangerous for Iraqi women: “As in any refugee crisis, the vast majority of the displaced are women and children; they are also the most vulnerable. Iraqi women and children who have escaped the war in their home country to neighboring Jordan face enormous challenges to their survival and well-being. Many women have come to Jordan only with their children – their husbands were either killed in the war or remain in Iraq. They are not recognized as refugees by the Jordanian government and as a result, most live in the country illegally and can be deported at any time. They cannot lawfully work and have little or no source of sustainable income and are struggling to support themselves and their children.

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Many Iraqi refugees found shelter in Eastern Sweileh the neighborhood where our Community Development Center was located. Mingling in this diverse community of Jordanians, Palestinians, Egyptians, Circasians, and Iraqis, predominantly Muslim but also with a Christian population, the community sufered from high rates of poverty, little access to health and social services, and high unemployment. Working in the diverse neighborhood of Eastern Sweileh required careful balancing both within the neighborhood and with our institutional partner to carry out the central mission that rights belong to all. Doing so in a community where the scarcity of resources aggravates social tensions required sensitive, dedicated and highly skilled practitioners. Two decisive factors made it possible for the University of Jordan Community Development Center to meet these challenges. In November 2002, Prof. Abdullah Al-Mousa was appointed as the first University of Jordan president born in Palestine.76 Previously the dean of the faculty of Agriculture, President Al-Mousa obtained a Masters in horticulture from the American University of Beirut in 1975 and a PHD in virology from the University of Washington in 1979. Being of Palestinian origin himself and coming from an applied profession, the tensions around practice and diversity lessened. Most importantly, Talal Al Qdah and Rad Al Hadid returned from their year in Montreal, joined the center in the fall of 2001, and gave it energy and inspiration. They knew what to do, knew how to do it, and were eager to start. With Salah as director and based at the university, the work began in earnest. Talal set up and coordinated the storefront, Rad was the community organizer, and together they did outreach. Through outreach, they met many, isolated elderly women who stated they were blind. Talal and Rad organized a clinic – bringing in medical staff from the University who examined the group of women they brought to the center. They determined that the women were not blind, had very poor vision and required prescription glasses with high magnification, but also had dangerously high levels of blood sugar. Salah reached out to an optical company who provided the women free glasses. At a group meeting, several women stated that now they can see, but do not know how to read. Talal negotiated a deal. The center would provide them free literacy classes. In exchange, they would fast for 14 hours once a week and have their blood sugar levels tested at the center – followed by a sumptuous, free breakfast. The deal was struck. The women learned how to read, and when they graduated their literacy classes, President Abdullah Musa came to the center, and awarded them diplomas which they proudly hung on their walls at home. These same women formed the first Golden Age Club in Jordan, had a celebratory opening,

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were invited to the Mayor’s office to meet him, and, as the process unfolded, opened several microenterprises. Talal knew the network of services and the regulations which govern them from his 15 years at the Ministry of Social Development. The staff recruited volunteers, and Talal provided them with training. The storefront was at street level at the hub of the community, in a former home, and inviting. It displayed a large sign with the logo: “The University of Jordan Community Development Center”. Early on, a distraught woman visited the storefront and asked Talal if the Center could help her as she was a single mother with four children. In Jordan, people carry a “Family Book” which includes the names and dates of birth of one’s children. Talal noticed that there were five children listed in her family book, but she spoke of only four. Talal asked her about this and she began to sob. She told Talal that after she gave birth to her fifth child some two years prior, her husband came to the hospital, grabbed the infant, divorced her, and said that he was taking the child to Syria. She has no knowledge of what happened to her infant son. Talal knew that Jordanian law forbids taking a child across international borders without written permission of both parents. He called the border authorities and gave them the information he had. He was told that the father did cross over to Syria, but there was no child with him. Talal thought that the child may have ended up at an orphanage, and he called many. Within several days, Talal located the child, now two years old, in an orphanage located less than 1 mile from where his mother lived. Mother and child were reunited, and the mother came back to the center as a volunteer to empower other women. Acts like Talal’s and Rad’s spread quickly by word of mouth in the neighborhood. Here was an organization – without a political affiliation or religious dogma – actually doing something about their issues – and doing it from the heart – with kindness, persistence, knowledge and skill. A year later, there was a riot in Eastern Sweileh. Every public building in the neighborhood was stoned and damaged – except one – The University of Jordan Community Development Center. Rather, it was protected by neighbors. From the fall of 2001 to December 2003, the Community Development Center served over 5,500 people. As a response to the many orphans and children in single parent families, the Center developed programs which integrated them with other children in after school activities and found volunteer tutors for them. The center provided English and computer classes to neighborhood children, and in the space of two years tripled its capacity for literacy classes. In the process, they discovered that a non-custodial divorced parent was only permitted to visit with their children at the local police station. Witnessing how traumatic such an environment is for children, the center persuaded the authorities to permit these visitations to take place at a safe, warm space at the center and obtained food and clothing from suppliers for free and distributed them to low income families. The very women who could now see and read joined “Over 60 people, in five three-hour training sessions which provided skills and knowledge and contributed

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to the development of low-income women living in traditional situations. The Golden Age Club, which brought together elderly seniors from all walks of life, initiated a health information advocacy program. The members of the Golden Age club assumed responsibility for the supervised visitation program, held regular information sessions for women, provided accompaniment to authorities to resolve specific issues and spearheaded several successful collective advocacy projects”.77 Through outreach, CDC learned that the local cemetery in Eastern Sweilah had to be closed and the graves, remains and tombstones were to be moved to a new cemetery located quite a distance from the neighborhood. People were upset. Many had lived in this neighborhood for generations and being close to the cemetery was important to them. Swiftly, CDC staff and volunteers organized a petition and signed up 4,000 residents to protest this move. This led to discussions with the various authorities resulting in the securement of nearby land in order that the community retain its cemetery. Our rights-based approach was catching on. The center networked with many organizations, I, with simultaneous translation, provided workshops on our methodology and the values behind it. In 2005, The Jordanian National Development Report recommended that a network of 40 rights Based organizations modeled on our Community Development Center be established throughout the Kingdom.78 *** We were reaching the end of our grant from the Canadian Government and had been discussing a second phase in order to sustain the initiatives we began. We had met or surpassed all the performance indicators for the goals set – and had done so in an environment where many internationally funded projects curtailed their endeavors. An oversubscribed social work program was in full operation at the University of Jordan. We established three new centers with 26 Fellows which were thriving in face of adversity. Expected results outlined in the Project Implementation Plan were to provide in-depth training in rights-based practice to 250 volunteers in the three countries during the life of the grant. Instead, we provided training to 3,870 volunteers. The expected number of people served between 1999 and 2002 was 10,000 individuals in the three countries. Seventy thousand people in the three countries were directly helped by our centers during this time period.79 And, we established an operational relationship between promoting social rights within countries and promoting peace among them by creating a network of academics, practitioners and leaders who interact across borders to promote the values of universal rights, reciprocity and inclusion. We were expecting a seamless transition. In June 2001, Nicky, Associate vice principal Ian Butler, and me met with the CIDA team in Ottawa and “officially informed them of our desire to commence negotiations regarding a potential Phase II of the project. Ian suggested that CIDA conduct an external review of Phase 1. CIDA officials told us this would not be necessary and that a seamless transition was anticipated.”80

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A few months later, we met with the senior CIDA team for the Middle East and were asked to write a concept paper for Phase II. Our concept paper addressed sustainability through additional fellows to solidify the professional skill base that the centers had developed, and through management and development assistance we would provide to our institutional partners. The budget reflected increased fiscal ownership of the centers by our partners over the three – four years of the anticipated next phase. Denis Potvin, CIDA program manager, stated that there would be a seamless transition between Phase 1 and Phase 2 and suggested we submit a transitionary budget.81 Frequent staff rotations at CIDA disrupt continuity, make it difficult to plan or have confidence in agreements made. During the four years of Phase I, we experienced three Project Team Leaders, two Country Program Managers, two Director Generals, and six different field project officers. Yet, we were surprised when Danielle Chiasson, the CIDA Project Team Leader who knew the program well and visited it several times was suddenly replaced by Marie-Claude Grenon. In April 2002, Marie-Claude announced that CIDA would require an evaluation of Phase I before they would allow us to proceed with Phase II. We were blindsided. The immediate impact was that CIDA would not allow us to recruit new fellows, would eventually endorse an interim budget designed to keep programmatic activity to its minimum, and limited severely our ability to be responsive to the escalating needs and concerns of our partners during the ongoing crisis in the region. CIDA made this announcement one month before the scheduled return visit of Queen Noor as an Official Guest of the Government of Quebec. Quebec Premier Bernard Landry welcomed her to the National Assembly and hosted her and our entire executive committee in Quebec City. Her Majesty attracted major press coverage from both the English and French media and gave a Beatty Lecture at McGill. Louise Beaudoin, Quebec Minister of State for International Relations announced at McGill: “The government of Quebec is proud to support the McGill Middle East Program in Civil society and Peace Building. Grounded on unifying and humanist values, this program helps to promote peace in the Middle East and strengthen dialogue in this region of the world. I am delighted that we have this opportunity to collaborate and wish to commend the sustained efforts of all those involved in this program, who are contributing to a better future in an original and meaningful way.” Minister Beaudoin presented the program with a check for $100,000 and a commitment to provide foreign tuition waivers – worth approximately $10,000 per fellow. This announcement helped us well beyond the monetary contribution. The government of Quebec – the Parti Quebecois – had a separatist agenda and was committed to holding another referendum on Quebec independence ‘when the timing was right’. Having political support from both a Federal Liberal government and a Provincial separatist government strengthened us.

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On April 29th, 2002 Principal Bernard Shapiro wrote Len Good, President of CIDA, endorsing the Phase II proposal, citing his personal knowledge and the university’s commitment to its continued success. Good wrote back on May 30th, 2002: “It is with dismay that we have witnessed the deteriorating conditions and resulting human suffering in the region. In light of these circumstances, the Canadian International Development Agency remains committed to help establish human security, to improve living conditions for Palestinians, and to determine appropriate responses to acute humanitarian and development needs. I am pleased to hear that the University supports the continuation of the Middle East Program. I understand that an external evaluation process will soon be initiated concerning the Program, which will be a helpful mechanism to assess project achievements and impacts, as well as to assist us in reaching conclusions regarding possible additional support to the project.”82 I read this letter as good news and not so good news. The good news is that Canada will continue its support in the Middle East. The not so good news is the President’s letter did not reassure us of continued funding, let alone a seamless transition. Further, in August 2002, Denis Potvin, Country Program Manager who declared a seamless transition at our November executive committee meeting, was replaced by Adele Shaughnessey. In September, I met for several hours with the evaluator chosen by CIDA. I could not understand why he was selected as he had no knowledge of the field or of the region. Nonetheless, I felt it important that he understand the values and approach of our program, and, by the time he left, I didn’t think he had shown much interest or understanding. On October 7, 2002 we received a draft evaluation report which recommended that a Phase II NOT be funded. The report was wildly mistaken as to the facts it presented and provided little objective evidence for its statements. The methodology was poor it had no outcome indicators and made no use of the continuous empirical data the program had collected. The evaluator spent one week in the region and was afraid to go to Nablus even in a Canadian diplomatic vehicle. Instead, he had a phone call with Sami. There also was a clear, systematic bias against the peace building component. We were given two weeks to respond, and we did so. The “evaluation” galvanized our partners, and together we produced a scathing critique of the report and insisted that the evaluation itself be reviewed by CIDA’s Policy and Evaluation division. This was carried out, CIDA itself discredited the report, and the evaluation was withdrawn. Even before the review was complete, Adele Shaughnessy and Mario Renaud reclassified the additional funds awarded to us during this interim period not as “transitional funds” but as funds for “an exit strategy.” Therefore, we were told, CIDA would only approve funds which related to an exit strategy and which they preapproved. We were not permitted to use CIDA funds for a meeting of the

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Executive Committee, and only authorized report writing and activity termination in the field were authorized. We met with Adele Shaughnessy and Mario Renaud in Ottawa on November 28, 2002. We were told that the evaluation was no longer being considered. However, “The Middle East desk has concluded that it is not prepared to fund a similar second phase in the current context”. The reasons cited were that “the Oslo process is no longer in existence, normalization is not feasible and is almost nonexistent, the Israeli reoccupation has increased the humanitarian crisis and that there are urgent and immediate survival needs. The Middle East desk is shifting its priorities to humanitarian and emergency assistance and is not prepared to invest in peace building at this time.”83 The fiasco with the evaluation convinced us to take a political route. We had strong support from McGill University, from Quebec, strong public approval, and a compelling argument. Canada’s official policy was that Oslo was not dead, and that peace building initiatives in the Middle East were a Canadian priority. Here, officials were usurping the political authority of the Government – and using tactics to boot which we discredited. Bernard Shapiro and Gretta Chambers intervened, and Senator Sheila Finestone arranged a meeting for me with Deputy Prime Minister Herbert Gray who represented the same City as the CIDA Minister Susan Whelan. I met with Senator Leo Kolber, the leadership of both the Jewish and Arab communities, and representatives of the government of Quebec. I am not sure who else Sheila and others on our support committee spoke with but am told that it reached Prime Minister Jean Cretien several times. I wanted our senior institutional partners to meet with Minister Whelan, but CIDA officials would not allow us to use CIDA funds to bring members of our Executive Committee to Canada. I had applied to the United States Institute of Peace in the Spring 2002 Solicited Grants competition to hold a conference with our partners to reflect on the McGill Middle East Program model. The proposal was funded – giving us the independent ability to bring our senior partners to Canada for the conference, and, hopefully, a meeting with Minister Whelan. After Gretta Chambers wrote the Minister on December 9, 2002, a meeting was set for February 3, 2003. On a bitterly cold, snowy February day our representatives traveled to Ottawa to meet with Minister Susan Whelan. Our group, led by Gretta Chambers, consisted of Abdullah Al-Musa, President of the University of Jordan, Professor Rami Hamdallah, President An Najah University, Professor Sari Nusseibeh, President of Al-Quds University, Professor Jimmy Weinblatt, Rector, Ben Gurion University of the Negev, Barbara Epstein, National Executive Director Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel; Professor Varsen Aghabekian, Chair Al-Quds University Community Action Center; Dr. Mohammad Al-Hadid, President, Jordan Red Crescent; Najwa Silwadi, Director Al-Quds Community Action Center; Sami AlKilani, Director An Najah Community Service Center; Salah Al-Louzi, Director University of Jordan Community Development Center; and myself. Adele Shaughnessy and Mario Renaud were already in the room. I introduced our visitors, sat across the table from them and waited for the Minister’s arrival.

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The meeting was electric and exciting. Here, the leadership of Israeli, Palestinian and Jordanian Universities, together with activists for social change from the three countries, were passionately presenting the value of our program which resonated with deeply held Canadian values. The Minister was impressed. Shaughnessey and Renaud were sullen and did not say a word. After the meeting, I wished them a safe journey home, and watched them turn away without a goodbye in the twilight snow. Minister Whelan approved our request for Phase II. We were awarded $4,400,000 – nearly 50 per cent more than the $3,000,000 we requested. *** We had proposed a highly ambitious goal for Phase II: that at its conclusion the peace building network and the centers would be able to sustain themselves without further CIDA funding and with a reduced management role for McGill. We were moving from the initiating stage to securing the long-term future of the organization. Our partners, CIDA, and McGill all wanted to achieve this. We agreed. Our partners, in the end, are the ones who needed to absorb these programs into their fabric and take responsibility for them. In fact, this is a goal of a rights-based approach. But, could this be done in three years? Is it realistic to assume that any organization anywhere can move from an initiation stage to become self-sustaining in this brief amount of time? I did not believe that it was likely, but we could make progress in this direction. And what is meant by sustainability is an expectation that NGOs will find other mechanisms to raise funds and manage programs on their own. But unlike a business which has a profit motive, and except for a scarce few programs successfully able to combine rights-based practice with economic development sufficient to generate resources from one’s own community, sustainability inevitably means finding funds from outside the community being served. Sustainability for funders often means go find your funding elsewhere, reshape your priorities and programs to meet new funding opportunities, and develop fundraising appeals which shift the focus from what is being done to how it gets marketed to potential benefactors. There is no point at which sustainability is certain for most NGOs. It involves constant innovation and scrambling, and these are positive features of rights-based practice if the organization can count on two thirds of its budget being secured 18 months forward. Otherwise, it often descends into a downward spiral of laying off staff, curtailing programs, and increasingly chasing after funders for survival. This dynamic of organizations advocating for and with the marginalized while securing funds from the privileged or from governments which enact policies which marginalize these groups appears paradoxical. It is, however, an essential dynamic of rights-based practice and represents a key concept of coexistence theory. The purpose is to empower the marginalized, and one way of doing so is by creating alliances with those who may be far away and have little exposure but are an essential part of the change process itself. It is often

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through this combination that ideas become mainstream and societal transformation takes place. The stand-alone NGO model of Community Advocacy was a direct adaptation of the Project Genesis model in Montreal where the initiative began within the university with the purpose of creating an organization totally independent of it. Sustainability for our Palestinian and Jordanian partners meant the absorption of the centers into the universities themselves. An Najah and Al-Quds saw the centers as a central expression of their vision, mission, and identity. In Jordan, the absorption of the Community Development Center into the University was not mission driven, was hierarchical and risk aversive and had an ambiguous connection to the lives of the marginalized. Each partner, operating in different political and organizational contexts, required unique sustainability strategies. We introduced a management committee into our governance structure comprised of senior managers of each partner institution and the center directors which was hands on and actively engaged in pursuing the goals of the centers. “This Management Committee will engage in ongoing programming, grant submissions for regional activities, planning and conference organizing, thus shifting the responsibility for these functions to the region.”84 Further, a half time Development Officer and a part time Regional Coordinator were added to the budgets of each center. Incoming fellows would also receive structured training in proposal writing, management, and conflict resolution. *** Back in Jerusalem, I received a Midnight (Israeli time) phone call from John Hall, Dean of Arts at McGill University. “I understand you are returning tomorrow. I want you to come straight to my office as I have something very important to discuss with you. “. Dean Hall would not disclose what he wanted to talk about. I was wary. I had good reasons to be wary. Bernard Shapiro’s tenure had come to an end and he was subsequently appointed Canada’s first Ethics Commissioner. Shortly before his departure, he warned me that there was resentment against me in administrative quarters at the University because “You get things done.” The School of Social Work was also going through a rocky period as the previous director left suddenly and under a cloud. Estelle Hopmeyer who taught at the school since the early 1970s, was an excellent administrator, embodied professional social work values, and stepped in to direct the school for several years. Estelle, well organized, polite, and understated, was among the last of social work academics able to secure a position without a PhD Dean John Hall had married one of our students. It did not go well and ended badly. He knew that we probably knew more than we wanted to know. He was aggressive toward Estelle and toward the faculty with bursts of rage and lack of respect toward its faculty members and toward social work as an academic discipline. Jetlagged and exhausted, I arrived at Dean Hall’s office. He informed me that the Contribution Agreement with CIDA had to be signed by the Board of

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Governors at McGill and it required his signature for it to go forward to the Board. He objected to various items in the budget, and dispatched Francois Carriere from the McGill international office to renegotiate the budget with CIDA in a manner which dealt with his objections. The budget was changed, and he wanted to inform me at the first opportunity what these changes were. John Hall objected to the agreement which required McGill to guarantee $300,000 to support three Israeli fellows (which cannot be provided by CIDA as Israel is not a developing country), as well as an additional $100,000 to support the living expenses of five Canadian fellows in their second year abroad – who also cannot be supported by CIDA. He claimed that the Faculty of Arts would be responsible for any shortfall, and consequently he reduced this amount from $400,000 to $100,000. In effect, John Hall, with known opinions about Israel, was gutting the fellowship program of its peace building component. With $100,000 we could only support one Israeli fellow over the two years which would result in having 1 Jewish Israeli among a group of 12 fellows from the region. The idea of five Canadian fellows grew out of our experiences in connecting Middle Easterners to Canadians. We proposed that we select five incoming Canadian MSW students to study alongside the Middle Easterners in the first year and assist them in Montreal and would do their field work and research in the Middle East in their second year where the Middle Eastern fellows would assist them. Dean Hall reduced the development officer positions needed to secure external funds from 21/2 days per week to 1 1/2 days. He eliminated the meeting of the Management committee scheduled for January 2004, as well as my travel to the region scheduled for January to recruit fellows for September, and that of Nicky who was responsible for providing management assistance to the partners. Much of these savings accrued from these budget cuts, Dean Hall appropriated for the Faculty of Arts. Dean Hall demanded that I sign off on the new contract he had revised. I refused. I said that the Middle East Program has raised substantially more than the $400,000 needed for the Israeli and Canadian fellows and will certainly be able to do so again. Dean Hall asserted that if I didn’t sign, he wouldn’t either, it would not go to the Board and the project would be dead. I was aware that Federal elections were looming. Canada’s Prime Minister, Jean Chretien, would resign in December 2003. I knew that a Federal election would soon be scheduled, the Liberal party might not prevail, and I would not have the same political support were the Conservatives elected. I signed – noting beneath my signature that I was being coerced into signing and I reserved my rights to take corrective action. The Contribution Agreement went forward, and the contract was signed. I filed a grievance, and, after many months of meetings and deliberations, the Grievance Committee unanimously found in my favor, the original budget was restored, and John Hall resigned as Dean of the Faculty. Challenged, but undaunted, we limped across the finish line to begin Phase II.

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Notes 1 Al-Salt is an ancient agricultural town and administrative center believed to have been built by the Macedonian army during the reign of Alexander the Great. Located in west-central Jordan on the old main highway leading from Amman to Jerusalem. Situated about 790–1,100 meters above sea level, the town is built on three hills, close to the Jordan Valley. In 1921 when Abdullah I became Emir of Transjordan he chose Al-Salt as his capital but later moved to Amman following disagreements with Salt’s notables. The Greater Salt Municipality has about 100,000 inhabitants of which 65 per cent are Muslim and 35 per cent Christians – representing one of the highest percentage concentrations of Christians in the Middle East. 2 Ordinarily, holding a bachelor’s in social work is a prerequisite to admission to the one-year MSW As Palestinians and Jordanians did not have recognized social work programs, we constructed a special 2-year masters – requiring University approval as a new degree. 3 There were four principal obstacles to agreement: territory, Jerusalem and the Temple Mount, Palestinian refugees and the right of return, and Israeli security concerns. 4 Joel Greenberg, “Unapologetic, Sharon Rejects Blame for Igniting Violence.” The New York Times, 5 October 2000. Retrieved 23 May 198. 5 Ze’ev Schiff and Ehud Ya’ari, Israel’s Lebanon War, New York, NY: Simon & Schuster, 1984, p. 284. ISBN 0-671-47991-1. 6 “On This Day: ‘Provocative’ Mosque Visit Sparks Riots.” BBC News, 28 September 2000. http://news.bbc.co.uk/onthisday/hi/dates/stories/september/28/newsid_3687000/ 3687762.stm. 7 Menachem Klein, The Jerusalem Problem: The Struggle for Permanent Status, Gainesville, FL: University Press of Florida, 2003, pp. 97–98. ISBN 978-0813026732. 8 Neil MacFarquhar, “Few Kind Words for Sharon in the Arab World.” The New York Times, 5 January 2006. www.nytimes.com/2006/01/05/international/middleeast/05cndarab.html. 9 Sergio Catignani, “The Al-Aqsa Intifada.” In Israeli Counter-Insurgency and the Intifadas: Dilemmas of a Conventional Army, Abingdon, UK: Routledge, pp. 104–106. ved 28 September 2014. 10 “Breakdown of Fatalities: September 27, 2000 through January 1, 2005.” International Policy Institute for Counter-Terrorism. Full report: “An Engineered Tragedy” Archived September 28, 2007. 11 “Sharm El-Sheikh Fact-Finding Committee Report.” George J. Mitchell et al., 30 April 2001, http://eeas.europa.eu/mepp/docs/mitchell_report_2001_en.pdf1. 12 MMEP: Annual Performance Report: July 2000 – June 2001. 13 Studentenes og Akademikernes Internasjonale .  .  . https://saih.no/english/whowe-are SAIH is the solidarity organization of students and academics in Norway. REPORT ON THE EFFECTS OF THE INTIFADA ON PALESTINIAN HIGHER EDUCATION. 14 Status Report; Op. cit. 15 MMEP Annual Report: July 2000–June 2001. 16 MMEP Annual Report: July 2000–June 2001. 17 Arab-Jewish Center for Empowerment, Equality, and Cooperation developed to become a premier civil society organization in Israel with a particular focus on the Bedouin community. 18 Community Advocacy, Highlights 2000, p. 5. 19 In 2007 the Aix Group, published a landmark book: “Economic Dimensions of a TwoState Agreement Between Israel and Palestine”; Aix Group; Arie Arnon and Saeb Bamya (Eds.) November 2007. 20 Community Advocacy, Highlights 2000, p. 6.

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21 McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building: Annual Performance Report; July 2000–June 2001, p. 7. 22 Nasar Khawaldeh, a military officer was the program’s first graduate. His thesis concerned “Family Planning on an army base in Zarka City, Jordan.” 23 Wael Al Azhari – an architect fellow was very active in the center, but could not continue due to illness. 24 Nicky Aumond, “Amman Practice Center: Urgent Tasks and Required Results,” October 2000. 25 MMEP; Annual Performance Report: July 2000–June 2001, p. 13. 26 “Overcoming 40 Years of Failure: A New Road Map for Sub-Saharan Africa”; The Standing Senate Committee on Foreign Affairs and International Trade; The Honourable Hugh Segal Chair, Ottawa, Canada, February 2007. 27 Labour, Likud, Shas, the Centre Party, the National Religious Party, United Torah Judaism, Yisrael BaAliyah, the National Union and Yisrael Beiteinu. The government initially had 26 ministers, though this later rose to 29. 28 McGill Middle East Program Newsletter, February 2002, Vol. 3, No. 1, p. 6. 29 The field placements took place at the Cummings Center for Seniors, NDG Senior Citizens Council, Multi-Caf, OEIL (Organization, Education, Information Logement), The Barter program at Project Genesis, the Committee to Aid Refugees, and Women Aware. 30 These centers (CLSCs) were part of a major overhaul of hospitals, social services, and medical clinics by the government of Quebec which was authored by Claude Castenguay in 1973. Fellows examined the CLSC’s with a view of adopting some of their characteristics to their own country. At the same time, the Quebec Ministry of International Relations solidified its funding for the program by providing foreign tuition waivers for all fellows and an administrative grant to support the program. Quebec funding continues to this day. 31 McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building; Annual Performance Report: July 2000–June 2001, January 2002, p. 22. 32 With Abeer being a West Bank resident and Morad being an Israeli citizen and an attorney petitioned the courts to allow his wife to live with him in Beersheba and have full rights for employment as a qualified social worker with a degree from McGill. The High Court rejected Morad’s petition which has led them and their four children to leave the region to pursue their lives together elsewhere. 33 Jordan since its founding has had a close relationship with Iraq. The Husseins of Jordan are intertwined with the Husseins of Iraq and originated from the same family. Prior to the war, Iraq provided generous subsidies to Jordan on oil and other commodities, and Jordan backed Iraq in the first Gulf War. 34 P.W. Fagan, “Iraqi Refugees: Seeking Stability in Syria and Jordan.” Institute for the Study of International Migration, 2009. 35 Ibrahim Saif and David M. DeBartolo, The Iraq War’s Impact on Growth and Inflation in Jordan; Center for Strategic Studies; University of Jordan, July 2007. 36 Yossi Verter, HaAretz, September 12, 2017, www.haaretz.com/us-news/how-9-11changed-u-s-policy-toward-israel-1.5168556. 37 Americans and Israel After 9/11. Gil Troy, www.thedailybeast.com/americans-and-israel-after-911?ref=scroll. 38 The Peace Puzzle: America’s Quest for Arab-Israeli Peace, 1989–2011 by Daniel C. Kurtzer, Scott B. Lasensky, William B. Quandt, Steven L. Spiegel, and Shibley Z. Telhami ISBN 978–0–80145147–8, p. 164. Decision Points by George W. Bush, New York, NY: Crown Publishing Co, 2010. ISBN 978-0-307-59061-9, pp. 400–401. 39 “The Anti-Terrorist Fence vs. Terrorism.” Ministry of Foreign Affairs. Archived from the original on 2004-01-10. Retrieved 2013-09-18. “Questions and Answers.” Israel’s Security Fence. The State of Israel. February 22, 2004. Archived from the original on October 3, 2013. Retrieved 2007-04-17.

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40 UN OCHA (Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs), “Barrier Update: Special Focus,” 2011, www.ochaopt.org/documents/ocha_opt_barrier_update_july_ 2011_english.pdf, Archived 2016–09–12 at the Wayback Machine. 41 See for example the following: “Under the Guise of Security: Routing the Separation Barrier to Enable Israeli Settlement Expansion in the West Bank”. Publications. B’Tselem. December 2005. Archived from the original on 2007–04–05. Retrieved 2007–04–16. Geraldine Bedell, “Set in Stone.” London: The Guardian, June 14, 2003. Retrieved 2013-09-17. Ana Barahona, Bearing Witness Eight Weeks in Palestine, London: Metete, 2013, p. 42, ISBN 978-1-908099-02-0. “International Court of Justice Finds Israeli Barrier in Palestinian Territory Is Illegal.” UN News Centre, United Nations, July 9, 2004. “Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory.” International Court of Justice, July 9, 2004. Archived from the original on 2 September 2004. Kirk Semple, “U.N. Resolution Condemns Israeli Barrier.” The New York Times, October 22, 2003. Robert Zelnick, Israel’s Unilateralism: Beyond Gaza, Stansford university, CA: Hoover Press, 2006, pp. 30–31, ISBN 0817947736, 9780817947736. 42 “Report of the Secretary-General Prepared Pursuant to General Assembly Resolution ES-10/10 (Report on Jenin).” United Nations, July 30, 2002. 43 “Report of the Secretary-General Prepared Pursuant to General Assembly Resolution ES-10/10 (Report on Jenin).” United Nations, July 30, 2002. 44 Victims of Palestinian Violence and Terrorism since September 2000 Archived 200704-03 at the Wayback Machine, Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs. 45 Btselem casualty statistics Archived 2009–10–13 at the Wayback Machine. Note that the combatant status of many of the Palestinian dead is unknown. It is only known that they were killed during IDF operations in Palestinian population centers. Btselem however has determined that at least 83 of the Palestinians killed during March 2002 were noncombatants. 46 “Report of the Secretary-General Prepared Pursuant to General Assembly Resolution ES-10/10 (Report on Jenin).” United Nations, July 30, 2002. 47 Amnesty International UK Israel/Occupied Territories: Crippling movement restrictions condemned as collective punishment08 Sep 2003, 12:00am, www.amnesty.org. uk/press-releases/israeloccupied-territories-crippling-movement-restricti. 48 Glenn E. Robinson, Building a Palestinian State: The Incomplete Revolution, Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1997, p. 57. 49 “UN Puts West Bank Damage at $300m.” BBC, May 7,2002, Retrieved October 9, 2008. 50 IDF forces reentered Nablus during Operation Determined Path in June 2002, remaining inside the city until the end of September. Over those three months, there had been more than 70 days of full 24-hour curfews [38]. “Israel and the Occupied Territories Shielded from Scrutiny: IDF Violations in Jenin and Nablus: Nablus.” Amnesty International, April 24, 2008. 51 “Nablus after Five Years of Conflict” (PDF). United Nations Office for the Coordination of Humanitarian Affairs. Archived from the original (PDF) on April 9, 2008. Retrieved April 27, 2008. 52 Jim Torczyner, Mission Statement: McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building, McGill Middle East Program: Executive Summary, Montreal, 1999. 53 The World Bank: Twenty-Seven Months–Intifada, Closures and Palestinian Economic Crisis an Assessment, May 2003, http://world%20bank%20263141270months0 Intifada10Closures%202002.pdf. 54 The World Bank: Twenty-Seven Months: Op. cit.

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55 The World Bank: Twenty-Seven Months–Intifada, Closures and Palestinian Economic Crisis an Assessment, May 2003, http://world%20bank%20263141270months0 Intifada10Closures%202002.pdf. The movement of goods inside the West Bank has been seriously interrupted by a new “back-to-back” system, which requires all non-humanitarian goods to be offloaded from incoming trucks and re-loaded onto local trucks at eight checkpoints near major West Bank cities. 56 Joel Greenberg, “In Nablus, Back-Room Schools Spring Up to Spite Curfew.” September 24, 2002, www.nytimes.com/2002/09/24/world/in-nablus-back-room-schoolsspring-up-to-spite-curfew.html. 57 McGill Middle East Program, Final Report to the Canadian International Development Agency; Phase 1: 1998–2002, 2003. 58 Archived September 27, 2007, at the Wayback Machine. Palestinian. 59 Al Quds University Community Action Center: Highlights 2003. 60 MMEP, Final Report Phase 1 Contribution Agreement Canadian International Development Agency, 2003. 61 Al Quds University Community Action Center: Highlights 2003. 62 “The Landscape of the Israeli Economy, Society and Policy after 1200 Days of Intifada,” Sever Plocker, Saban Center, 2005; www.brookings.edu/wp-content/uploads/2012/ 04/20031113.pdf. 63 interview with “Yedioth Ahronoth” on April 22, 2003. 64 Shlomo Swirski and Noga Dagan-Buzaglo, “The Occupation: Who Pays the Price? The Impact of the Occupation on Israeli Society and Economy.” June 2017 ADVA Center, https://il.boell.org/sites/default/files/adva_-_price_of_occupation_en.pdf. 65 Swirski et al. Op. cit. 66 See Swirski et al. Op. cit. “measured by the Gini coefficient, which ranges from zero to one: Zero indicates absolute equality and one is a situation in which all income is concentrated in the hands of one person. In 2002, the combination of social security benefits and taxes contributed to a reduction of 31.5% in inequality after transfer payments and direct taxes; in 2015, following cuts in benefits and taxes, this reduction amounted to only 22.6%.” 67 Swirski et al. Op. cit. 68 Community Advocacy, Annual Report, 2003. 69 Community Advocacy, Annual Report, 2003. 70 Community Advocacy, Annual Report, 2003. 71 Community Advocacy, Annual Report, 2003. 72 Anne Marie Baylouny, The Middle East Journal, Vol. 62, No. 2 (Spring 2008), pp. 277– 303(27) Publisher: Middle East Institute, DOI: https://doi.org/10.3751/62.2.15. 73 The Gini Coefficient Was 36.4 CIA World Fact Book, 2004/Jordan, https://en. wikisource.org/wiki/CIA_World_Fact_Book,_2004/Jordan. 74 Managing Chaos – The Iraqi Refugees of Jordan and Syria and Internally Displaced Persons in Iraq, Staff Trip Report to The Committee on Foreign Relations, United States Senate, April 2008, U.S. Government Printing Office, 41–773; Washington, 2008. 75 Women’s Commission for Refugee Women and Children; Iraqi Refugees in Jordan: Desperate and Alone Humanitarian Needs Dire, 2007. 76 Between 1998 and 2018, the University of Jordan had eight different Presidents. By comparison, McGill University had three, and Ben Gurion University, An Najah University, and Al Quds University each had two presidents during the same time period. 77 MMEP; Final Report to CIDA; Phase 1; 2003. 78 2005 Jordan National Development Report. 79 See McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building; Project Performance Report Covering the 4 Year Period July 1998 to July 2002; Part 3. 80 MMEP Phase II proposal, 2003.

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Louise Boudoin, remarks at McGill University, May 2002. Len Good, President of CIDA, to Principal Bernard Shapiro, May 30, 2002. Meeting Summary CIDA, November 28, 2002. McGill Middle East Program, “Sustaining Peace Building and Empowerment Practice Among the Poor in a Context of Crisis and Uncertainty: A Proposal for Second Phase CIDA Support.” February 27, 2003, Op. cit.

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With funding secure for three additional years, the management committee traveled to Amman in January 2004 to operationalize two overall objectives: to strengthen the centers’ capacity to manage financially and programmatically and to expand and strengthen the peace-building network and activity. Three capacitybuilding organizations formally joined or informally participated at management committee meetings: The Jordan Hashemite Fund for Human Development (JOHUD), the Palestinian Welfare Association, and SHATIL – the technical assistance arm of The New Israel Fund. Management committee members knew each other well from our work together over the past years, and their relationships and commitment evolved and deepened over time. Sami Kilani, Bilal Salameh, Najwa Silwadi, and Talal Qdah were former fellows. Varsen Aghabekian, the key board member at the Community Action Center (CAC) of Al-Quds University; Barbara Epstein, the National Executive Director of Community Advocacy; Jimmy Weinblatt, recently appointed Provost of Ben Gurion University, and Merav Moshe were key players in our institutional network. It was essential for us to rebuild our management structure at McGill. Over the long, arduous uncertainty about future funding, we had to reduce our staff. We were able to rehire our key financial person – Lucie Marion – and Mona Hammond, our Administrative Coordinator. We hired Lisa Van Dusen as Director of Communications. Having Lisa join our staff was a coup. Lisa had been an editor at United Press International in Washington and Associated Press in New York and a writer for Peter Jennings at ABC News in New York. Lisa described her attraction to the program, which carried far less remuneration than her previous employ, as follows: I had written about the Middle East Peace Process as a columnist for the Ottawa Citizen from the US and handled the story on the desk at UPI in DC (it was one of the reasons Jennings hired me) came across a mention of the program in the Montreal Gazette one day, looked it up and fell immediately in love with the concept, the spirit, the blessedly subversive quality, etc. and phoned you out of the blue to ask whether you needed any communications help. We met in your office a couple of days later and you brought me on as

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part-time director of communications (for budgetary reasons) three days a week. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.1 Nicky Aumond directed operations almost since the very beginning of MCHRAT. Nicky had held senior management positions, and like me, had to perform very detailed administrative work to move the program forward. Understandably, Nicky wanted to delegate many of her functions to a much more junior person so that she could focus on overall management of the McGill-based operation as well as provide direct consultation to our partners in the region to develop their organizations. Consequently, we hired David Leduc as Project Manager, accountable to Nicky. David, not yet 30 years old, had spent a few years in the Middle East and had beginning experience as a community organizer in Montreal. Last, we needed leadership for the fellowship program. Ideally, we wanted a very skilled organizer who knew our approach and the program and who knew how to promote inter-cultural solidarity. We got lucky; Jim Olwell was interested. He worked, however, at a Quebec Local Community Service Center (CLSC) as a community organizer and was unable to leave his employ, his remuneration, and his benefits. The Government of Quebec was interested in seeing Quebec innovations in health and social services such as the CLSC be understood and possibly adopted by the countries we worked with in the Middle East. We worked out a two-year secondment where Jim retained his position at the CLSC while being seconded to and paid by MMEP as Director of the fellowship program. By the beginning of May 2004, we had assembled our team: myself as fulltime volunteer able to weave this work into my academic responsibilities, Nicky and Lisa part-time, Jim on a full-time temporary assignment, and David, Lucie, and Mona in full-time capacities. Subsequently, we added Merav Moshe as our regional coordinator. We were mindful of keeping our McGill costs at the minimum level at which we could be most effective. McGill acquired 12 per cent of the total grant as overhead costs2 – taking an understandable chunk from funds that otherwise would be spent in the region. We were a small staff at McGill.3 After all, the purpose of the program was to make change in the region, and that is where the money should be directed. Groups like ours tend to expand with time as the complexity of functions and demands on capacities increase. Rather, I encourage and involve students to work with us. Our work depends on the commitment of a few dedicated staff and scores of volunteers and interns while keeping Head Office Costs to the minimum. I resisted the corporatization of our programs within the university itself. In establishing MCHRAT – the parent of the Middle East Program – I named it the McGill Consortium for Human Rights Advocacy Training. I did not seek formal approval from the university to become a center or institute. Rather, the university had no definition for a consortium, which permitted me to bring together an interdisciplinary group of academics and practitioners to move forward programs that would transfer our knowledge to communities with the least access to it and within

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the parameters of academic freedom. Only as a condition to receive a major infrastructure grant from the government of Quebec in 1994 were we obliged to accept “center” status. *** On February 2, 2004, Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon announced to the Ha’aretz newspaper that he planned to dismantle 17 Israeli settlements in the Gaza Strip and that he foresaw a time when there would be no Jews in Gaza at all. Sharon had never been at the “dove” end of Israel’s political spectrum, but his position reflected the growing frustration of the Israeli people with both the human and fiscal costs of the occupation. The left and some portions of the right were meeting at a point where, for different reasons, Israelis asked themselves “what do we need Gaza for?” as it was not part of the “Biblical promise to the Jewish people.” Demographic concerns were paramount. With an increasing Palestinian population, Jewish Israelis would become a minority occupying a majority of Palestinian Arabs in the not-too-distant future. Preserving the Jewish character of Israel would be aided by disengaging from Gaza. Israeli civilian fatalities dropped sharply since their peak in 2002 when 452 civilians were killed. In 2003 this number fell to 208 and to 56 in 2005 – the year the intifada officially ended.4 Many Israelis claim that the construction of the separation wall reduced terrorist incursions into Israel. While the wall is a likely contributing factor, the intifada was petering out for many different reasons – particularly the exhaustion on all sides. By 2003, 180 km of the wall had been completed, and in 2004 Israel started the southern part of the barrier.5 The wall and the checkpoints preventing free passage within Palestine were constant, debilitating, emotionally draining, physically taxing, and a daily reinforcement of the harshness of the occupation. I traveled through these checkpoints many times. Only certain cars could drive through, and these were subjected to long waits and searches. As we waited, I watched with anguish as young children, elderly men and women, students, the sick, and the disabled, packed in the summer heat, moved through a caged walkway on foot, undergoing random, disorganized inspections and often harsh interrogations just to cross over a 150-meter division between one part of the Palestinian West Bank and another. Not all Israelis were supportive of the proposed Gaza disengagement plan, and significant portions of the Settlers movement and allied religious nationalists loudly, and, at times, violently opposed any territorial concessions. They favored the expulsion of Palestinians rather than the expulsion of Jewish settlers from the West Bank and Gaza. They organized widespread, large demonstrations against any disengagement. As Israelis were divided, so were Palestinians. The vast majority had nothing to do with violence or terrorism, but all Palestinians felt the impact of the wall and the occupation. Pushed to the margins, both Israelis and Palestinians on the extremes engaged in vigilante acts where civilians on both sides were murdered and property destroyed. Both peoples were fragmented internally, yet, this very

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fragmentation cracked open glimmers of hope and opportunity for like-minded Israelis and Palestinians to advance a common agenda of peace and social justice. In this context, we recruited our fourth cohort of fellows. We accepted 11 candidates from a pool of approximately 200 applicants – and a fourth Jordanian already studying at McGill. The fellows ranged in age from late 20s to early 40s; a majority were women and were a diverse group, with a broad range of skills and backgrounds. Three of the four Palestinian fellows were women: Randa Abu Rabe – a physician with an extensive background in public health – and Faten Ghazi Abu Za’rour, a crisis intervention art therapist with a master’s in family counseling, were from An-Najah University. Abeer Mograbi, who had worked at the Palestinian Broadcasting Corporation, the YWCA, and Seeds of Peace, was selected to represent Al-Quds Community Action Center. They were joined by Abud Ash Shareef, a decade and a half younger, who held a degree in architecture and engineering and worked at the Community Service Center housing rehabilitation program in Nablus. The four Israelis were all under 30. Arik Zara, a lawyer of Turkish origin from Tel Aviv, was a member of a joint Israeli–Palestinian legal training program sponsored by the Institute for Peace and Democracy. Amaya Galili had a degree in sociology from the Hebrew University and coordinated a project for the Mahapach Movement in Jerusalem where university graduates move into marginalized communities and work with residents to improve conditions. Noa Rivlin studied social work at the Hebrew University and worked as a counsellor at the Jerusalem Center for Treatment and Prevention of Violence in the Family. Jamal Al-Kirnawi – a Bedouin from Southern Israel, obtained a degree in Health Management Systems from Ben Gurion University and worked as a coordinator of the Bedouin Youth Forum. Three of the four Jordanian fellows were women. Dalia Zatara – linked to The Jordan Red Crescent – was an account executive with a degree in business and finance. She volunteered as a field assistant in the Rwiashed refugee camp on the Jordanian/Iraqi border. Ruweida Shakhshir a Jordanian-Canadian already at McGill in a master of education program, joined the group and, upon her return to Jordan, became the administrative mainstay of our center. Samar Ata Alshahwan had a law degree from the University of Jordan and a master’s in public law from the Amman Arab University for Graduate Studies. Since 2002, she directed the Rural Development and the Gender Extension Service Project for the Jordanian Hashemite Fund for Human Development (JOHUD). Qais Ibrahim Tarawneh, with a BA in special education, was also sponsored by JOHUD where he had worked since 2000 as a field supervisor. He also worked with Oxfam in refugee camps on the Iraqi–Jordanian border. Three spouses and five children were part of the group as well. *** Although travel was restricted, arduous, and at times dangerous, we seized the opportunity to advance peace-building initiatives through our fellows, through cross-border cooperation among centers, and through joint research.

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Visits were planned for late July 2004. The logistical issues involved in creating opportunities for people engaged in social work and peace building to traverse borders and learn from each other was a nightmare. First, Israeli law bars its citizens from travelling to the Palestinian West Bank. My best efforts could not change this reality. Second, a Canadian Global Affairs advisory restricted travel to Jordan, and I could only undertake it by arriving three hours early to Ben Gurion airport to take a 20-minute flight to Queen Alia airport, which is located 40 minutes south of Amman. I could almost have walked there faster, but this too was prohibited by Canadian authorities as I was on official business of a Canadian governmentfunded program. Canadian advisories also prohibited all travel through the West Bank and to Nablus in particular. Our only means of transportation was to reserve a Canadian diplomatic, armored vehicle. And, above and beyond, as stated to me at the time by Ian Butler, Associate Vice-Principal for International Research, McGill was concerned about its insurance coverage. In a note to the office, I described how all this unfolded in practice: “At the airport in Tel Aviv, waiting to check in for the flight to Amman, I asked Royal Jordanian to confirm my return flight. “No sir, we cannot do it here. You must reconfirm in Amman 24 hours prior to departure”. Sure enough, I arrive at 1:00 a.m. Friday, and their office is closed. I try first thing Saturday morning. “I am sorry sir; you must confirm 72 hours before your departure. The flight is full, and your reservation is cancelled.” “But, I have to meet two Jordanians arriving at the central bus station in Tel Aviv at 12:00, I must be on that flight”. “That’s not my problem sir, these are our regulations”. Many hours later, after Mohammad intervened with his cousin who is on the board of Royal Jordanian, I got on the flight. Talal told me exactly where he would be at the Central Bus station in Tel Aviv – on the 4th floor at the Mizneh street entrance. I meet Sarit. We go to the designated place. No Talal. “Tell me sir, where does the bus from Jordan arrive?” “What bus from Jordan? No bus from Jordan has stopped here in three years. Maybe it’s the other bus company on the 6th floor.” We go to the 6th floor and ask the same question. “No, it’s not us, don’t know, and don’t care”. We ask two policemen. They don’t know either. I say: “Someone must know where the bus arrives”. The police reply: “Not my problem.” We look throughout the bus station, which is a maze of stores, stalls, alleys on six different floors, and, four hours later, and I’ll spare you the rest, we find him in the 90-degree heat. I get to the apartment around 6:00 p.m. but figure I should check on the permits (for Palestinians to enter Israel) which Sami, Bilal and Najwa were to pick up during the day.

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No permits. I call Orly (a friend at the Foreign Ministry responsible for regional coordination) who tells me they will absolutely be there in the morning. Bilal and Sami go to the DCO office in Nablus and Najwa to the Ramallah DCO. No permits. I call Orly. She’s not there. Her cell phone is turned off. I call Najwa. Her cell doesn’t work. I finally get ahold of her on her husband’s cell. She tells me that Peter is the head of permits. I call him. “We made a mistake. I am sorry. To make things easier, I will issue the permits immediately from my office. Najwa can pick up the three. I’ll call you back in a half hour”. No call back. I call him . . . no answer. I find out he has an assistant Benjamin. I call Benjamin. He’ll call me back. I call him again. Finally get him, tell him the story. He says we have issued them – Two in Nablus, one in Ramallah. “That’s not the deal, all three permits are to be picked up by Najwa in Ramallah.” “I’ll call you back.” He doesn’t. I call. No Benjamin. I find out that Benjamin has an assistant Andre. I call Andre. Andre knows nothing. I finally get a hold of Orly. She reaches Andre. I reach Andre. Najwa reaches Andre. “O.K. come to the office and pick them up”. Najwa does. Nobody at the office knows anything. I call Peter, Benjamin, Andre and Orly. The permits are at a different office. Najwa rushes over because the office is about to close. The permits are there, but with mistakes in the names. More calls . . . Peter, Benjamin, Andre, Orly. . . . They fix it. Najwa now has the permits. Oh yeah and when I was in Amman, I got an e mail that the air conditioner died in the armored car, and the car won’t be available until Wednesday. I rearranged and switched Nablus from Monday to Wednesday . . . figuring we’ll do Jerusalem on Monday. Tomorrow we all go to Beersheba. Wednesday Nablus.”6 Is it worth all this just to facilitate meetings between former fellows and current center directors to stay in touch in person? I have absolutely no doubt. The visits not only allowed for mutual learning by seeing the direct work done by our centers but renewed deep friendships in the flesh and, for some, for the first time in two years. And what did they see? A group of eight, accompanied by the program director, visited the 2 Community Advocacy centers, the Al Quds centers and (all except the Israelis) the Nablus center. They saw the Bedouin mobile unit, the two Food Coops and other examples of Rights Based Community Practice and had an opportunity to explore each other’s programmatic innovations and examine how they might apply the new ideas to their respective practice centres and contexts.7 At Al-Quds, we were impressed with the centrality of the storefront in the Old City of Jerusalem and the symbolism of its location. The center, located in the maze of the Muslim Quarter – close by to the western Wall of the Temple built by King Solomon and the site where Muslims believe Mohammad ascended to

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heaven and where Jesus preached a blueprint for peace, where every week was like a countdown to an eruption as the uneasy alchemy of Friday prayers and the constant presence of Israeli soldiers, here the center was making a statement – refashioned from the bones of an ancient church, fronted by bomb defying glass: We are here to solve the problems of the people rather than creating new ones. We had many questions and were delighted to meet some of the welfare rights coalition members and hear about their successful advocacy campaign. We observed the Civic Education Program, which involves 10 elementary schools in the Jerusalem area and seeks to help children focus on the “collective” rather than the “individual” aspects of their work, their personal situations, and their relationships with one another. The program targets the sixth grade and reaches out to more than 600 male and female students under the supervision of 45 student volunteers from Al-Quds University. The program works toward developing an understanding of the collective and how the individual contributes to it.8 The Al-Quds Community Action Centre recently inaugurated a “Woman’s Club and Services,” which focuses on strengthening and enriching self-values in addition to providing women with the necessary practical information on the issues of addiction and drugs, sexual abuse and methods of dealing with such social problems”.9 We traveled to Nablus in the armored Canadian vehicle with Wayne Primeaux – a delightful, experienced, erudite representative of the Canadian foreign service, who negotiated our passage through various checkpoints. We toured the Community Service Center, its housing renovation program in the Old City, and saw the beginning of a remarkable project – designed to push for an alternative reality in the Old City, which had been devastated by violence. Robert Lafaille, a Belgian visiting professor at An Najah University, described “The City of Flowers”:10 In the literature of architecture, there are many examples of how the environment influences the feelings and attitudes of people. Applying this rule to the Old City of Nablus means that creating a more beautiful environment may help stimulate hope, goodwill, and ultimately a feeling of peace. So, in the Spring of 2004, we started to bring flowers to the Qaryoon street of the Old City. It was decided to begin with one street as an example. We went door to door, asked the residents for their cooperation, and began placing the flowers. The residents responded very positively, and now there are many streets adorned with flowers. In one case, a mother whose son was killed by soldiers the previous day promised to take care of the flowers on her street for the rest of her life. When we began, we used plastic pots, but now we use clay ones painted by the children of the Old City. We are also doing the first experiments to use hydro-culture in order to use water as efficiently as possible. The group also observed the Supportive Education Program where, in collaboration with the Ministry of Education, the center places volunteers in 12 schools who provide special attention to underachievers – children who are often afected

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by problematic social or psychological environments. Volunteers work with children to encourage them with their studies and to provide support and referrals on personal issues. The program has already shown excellent results, as the children’s marks have risen. Lively discussions ensued about shared successes, failures, and the conundrum of dealing with the paradoxical effects of success. While a growing client base and the development of new programs is generally positive, the growth of human resources and other capacity-building components doesn’t keep pace with the demand, allow time for strategic planning, and prioritizes organizational energy to raise funds for the increasingly varied issues with which the centers deal. An Najah’s programs for parents of disabled children and for families of Thalassemia patients make special efforts to involve the fathers in these programs and in the family support to its disabled member. Talal brought up approaches for engaging fathers in Jordan – doing so at his center by providing space and personnel for the supervised visitation program where separated and divorced men, often with histories of violence or abuse, visit with their children. By coming to the center, the men have positive contact with a “helping” environment and learn that they can receive help in other areas of their lives. The mothers usually bring the children to the center and wait there during the visit until it is time to take them home. Center staff used this time to initiate discussions with the women. At the women’s request, outside resource persons were brought in. The initiative grew, and the Sweileh center developed a single mother’s group. Similar lessons were shared by Al-Quds’ Women’s Clubs and the discussions that take place at the Community Advocacy food co-op. Improving the physical space which low income persons live in emerged in unplanned parallel programs. City of Flowers enhances the Old City of Nablus and was adopted by Talal for Jordan. Community Advocacy’s successful advocacy to stop the development of the one green space in the Jerusalem center’s neighborhood and the environmental awareness program at the Amman Community Development Centre enhance quality of life and promote peace of mind. Through the Jordan Red Crescent a youth exchange involving participants from Sweden, Scotland, Belgium, Tunisia, Palestine, and Jordan attended environmental awareness workshops at the Dana Reserve, the Dead Sea, Wadi Al-Mujib, Jerash, Aqaba, and the Rum Valley. The fellows returned with commonalities and shared ideas to develop and reshape. Yet, as important were the physical opportunities for friends and colleagues to embrace, feel each other’s common cause, and revitalize their friendship. I wrote this up at the time: Better days: July 27, 2004 Days like today make the prior two feel like distant memories and certainly worth it. Bilal, Sami, Varsen, Najwa, Abdullah, the secretary, a volunteer lawyer, Steven (the Carleton student), Talal and Inam, Barbara and I almost left on time. Got to Beersheba where we were joined by Sarit (2000–2002 cohort), Merav, and the storefront team. Colleagues talked over common work, and

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The fellows arrived in Montreal in early July. Jim Olwell, bilingual, knew Montreal, the community organizing scene and, most, of all, knew how to create a process where people of different backgrounds develop common cause. As well, Two part-time staff were hired to organize and coordinate the fellows’ arrival and facilitate the difficult task of finding an apartment and signing a lease. From opening bank accounts and hooking up telephone lines to McGill campus tours and course registration, this additional help resulted in a much smoother transition period than we have experienced in the past. Our orientation coordinators also recruited host families for the fellows to stay with immediately upon their arrival. The warm and welcoming environment of a Canadian family made a huge difference in helping the fellows cope with culture shock, exhaustion, and the ambitious program that lay ahead. Host families also provided a listening ear for their guests as they eagerly searched for accommodations and attempted to learn the “ins and outs” of downtown Montreal. Many of these friendships have extended well beyond the duration of their stay and the overall process produced positive feedback from both fellows and host families.12 As ever, social events helped build relationships. Over the summer, fellows traveled to upstate New York for a BBQ at my home – with Halal, Kosher, and vegan food available and with fresh vegetables from my garden. Fellows met an important network of Adirondackers who became host families for them on their frequent visits to the North Country. The Adirondack efforts were spearheaded by John Bingham who I met on Essex Day during its town-wide garage sale. The fellows also spent a day canoeing and kayaking at a YMCA camp in the Laurentians. They went apple picking with family members in the Eastern Townships,

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and organized group potlucks. They were thrilled to attend a Montreal Expos baseball game (depressingly, one of the last) with front row tickets provided by Barbara Bronfman. Arabic and Hebrew joined the chorus of cheers for “Nos Amours” whenever they did something right. With the daily requirements and stress associated with doing a master’s degree in a foreign language, these social events helped bond the group. A welcome reception was held in early September with 50 friends of the program and McGill colleagues. Much support was provided to improve the English language competencies of the fellows with expert tutoring and professional editing. All were matched with volunteers who provided some initial feedback on their assignments and assisted them with their English presentations. Most of the volunteers were people who had taught and/or practiced social work. The fellows began their course work in September attending regular classes with Canadian students in community organizing, social policy, and program evaluation and were enrolled in a specially designed field tutorial where they visited a variety of public and community services to gain an understanding of the health, social service, and community network in Montreal and Quebec. The most important weekly event was the narrative-exchange – peace-building session. Building on our experience with the previous cohorts, the program made peace building and conflict resolution a key, formal component of the program. Starting in September and continuing throughout the year, Jim Olwell moderated these discussions. To my mind, nothing the fellows did was more important than their meetings together in our peace building sessions. They accepted and internalized our common value: that you can much more easily trust someone you know well. And, even in conflict, people have more in common than that which differentiates them. At these meetings, they put themselves on the line in two ways. First, they opened themselves up by talking at length, each in turn, about the life that had brought them to Montreal. Second, they opened themselves up by putting aside pre-conceived notions in order to really listen to the “others” that they had been taught were “different.” Israelis listened to Palestinians, Palestinians listened to Israelis, and Jordanians listened to and were listened to by Israelis and Palestinians. After these self-revelatory exercises were complete, they began to discuss issues fraught with the possibility of hurt and blame. Issues like the wall, the Holocaust, the occupation, and suicide bombings. There were sometimes tears, anger, and disappointment. But they refused to yield to closed-mindedness. They kept on dialoguing and emerged with new, previously unthinkable, friendships. Strong ideas emerged on the difficult question of how they could personally build peace. “Help fellow citizens lead a more normal life, so they can think about things other than violence, like fighting for their rights”. “Deal with the conflict from the inside by working on it within our own communities”.

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Advancing peace “Peace is achievable”, they said. “Look around. It exists in many places and situations”. “Bring together the grassroots who never get to meet”. “Talk to people. Be patient. Clarify to people the negative impact of conflict on their lives. Help meet people’s needs.” Through our peace-building sessions, the fellows met the “other” and found that the “other” is human, similar, and approachable. . . . When the opportunity for direct action towards peace presents itself, they are ready.13

Jim’s assessment was echoed by Noa Rivlin. In the past year I learned to listen, to really listen and not just to be heard. I learned that I could listen to people even if I totally disagreed with what they were saying, and I hope to take home this ability. I met people who are on the other side of the conflict in the Middle East, and I got to know them first hand – not as they are portrayed in my society – through the history I was taught at school, the myths I was brought up on, and the headlines in daily newspapers. I got to know people, to learn about their lives, their societies, their beliefs, finding more commonalities. I learned to deal with the differences, or at least to try. I learned many new things about Islam, different from its image in the Western media. And I also learned a lot about myself. I got some new perspectives about the place I come from, the things I love about it and those I would like to change. I looked at my own identity as an Israeli, at my own biases and racism. And so, I would like to take home with me the attempt to challenge all this, and then challenge it again and again, with every new encounter, willingly, without fear, and without being defensive. I would like to be able to challenge racism in Israel by sharing my experience in the past year with my friends back home, with the people I work with, or with taxi drivers in Jerusalem. I would like to bring home with me optimism, cautious but determined, to spread it around and to stick to it no matter what, to hold on to the belief that there is a future for our nations, living together, side by side with mutual respect and recognition.14 In a thoughtful disclosure, Qais told the group I was raised in a culture that looks five generations into the future to understand what kind of impact the decisions we make today will have. I asked my father, who was a high-ranking member of the Jordanian army and had participated in war between Jordan and Israel, what he thought about me coming here to participate in a program that consisted of people from Jordan, Palestine and Israel. My father replied; ‘Do you believe in it? I told him ‘yes father’. My father then said, ‘I want you to do this if this is what you truly believe in. And if you do this, I want you to dedicate yourself to this noble task. We made mistakes in the past, and I don’t want you to make the same mistakes.’15

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Jamal, an Israeli–Bedouin fellow, had a unique perspective. One of the special things about my national identity is that I am equally Palestinian and Israeli, and this identity, always debated, places me in a special position: right in the middle. In the beginning I had to put a lot of effort into making people recognize my position which is on both and on neither side. In this MMEP experience, my special position helped me to understand things that one side alone can’t see. . . . The open and calm atmosphere here led me to discover aspects of the conflict that I never thought of since I was interacting with people I never really had a chance to engage before: those who live outside the conflict.16 *** Yasser Arafat, President of the Palestinian National Authority, died unexpectedly on November 11, 2004. Both Arafat’s legacy and the circumstances of his death remain hotly contested. Most Israelis regarded him as unreliable at best and as a terrorist revolutionary unable to compromise and make peace with Israel at worst. For Palestinians and much of the Arab world, Arafat – notwithstanding faults and criticisms within among Arabs – was nevertheless the founding father of the Palestinian revolution and their first head of State. We needed to address Arafat’s demise directly with the fellows. Jim, who convened the meeting, recalls: Yes, I remember you and I meeting with the Fellows on the subject and you pointing out that the leader of the Palestinian people, whom they (the Palestinian fellows) loved and admired and who had brought them respect on the world stage, had died. That, as Fellows in a program dedicated to peace and to respect for the peoples with whom we engage in this program, we must be ready to join in solidarity with our Fellows, in their mourning, no matter our personal or political feeling towards that leader. I think they were pleased and surprised that their feelings and respect for him were respected. I remember it becoming clear that they were not all thinking he was above reproach, far from it. But that he was their first great leader. I have a general memory of the Israeli Fellows being Ok, given your nice, precise, respectful explanation of our reasoning.17 We had scheduled a joint meeting of the management and the international executive committees for late November 2004. Following the death of Arafat, neither Rami Hamdallah, President of An Najah University or Sari Nusseibeh, President of Al-Quds University felt it appropriate to travel abroad during the mourning period, so we rescheduled the executive committee meetings but proceeded with the management committee meetings. It was important for center directors to meet with their fellows toward the end of the first semester, for our committees to meet, and, by seeing each other, to reafrm with vigor our common purpose. Mohammad Al Hadid, President of the Jordan Red Crescent, Chair of the Standing Committee of the International Federation of Red Cross and Red

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Crescents, and member of our executive committee, was invited to give a prestigious McGill Beatty Memorial Lecture. I had been assisting Mohammad in his behind the scenes work on the admission of Mogen David Adom into the International Federation, on prisoner exchanges, and on seeking information about missing persons. Mohammad spoke for the first time about our earliest initiatives: Peace is not simply the absence of war, but rather a process of co-operation among states and peoples; co-operation founded on freedom, independence, national sovereignty, equality, respect of human rights, as well as a fair and equitable distribution of resources. Our world – like our mind – becomes exactly what we make it. As we increase our awareness of one another – taking an interest in the other’s culture, legitimacy, existence, reality, their true identity, pleasures and displeasures – a wonderful thing happens. We begin to care for the other as if the other was a part of us. This is the magic of life which our ancient religions and philosophies bid us to see – the invisible filament of interconnectedness that bind us together. Let me give you some examples of how crucial human relations can be: In 2003, Israel announced that its security wall would bisect the Al Quds University campus in East Jerusalem. Sari Nusseibeh, president of Al Quds University and Jimmy Weinblatt from Ben Gurion University are both members of the McGill Middle East Program’s Executive Committee. So, Jimmy Weinblatt sent an open letter to the Israeli Defense Minister, signed by the heads of all seven universities in Israel – demanding that the wall be rerouted – and it was. Then there was the case of Israeli businessman and hostage, Elhanan Tannenbaum, who was part of a prisoner exchange between Israel and Hezbollah. A couple of years ago I was in Montreal for an MMEP Management Committee meeting and the case came up. I was asked to help on a humanitarian basis because Mr. Tannenbaum, who was a family friend of an MMEP committee member, had health problems and required medication. I spoke to friends in Iran, Lebanon, and the Red Cross in order to secure medication for Mr. Tannenbaum. I appealed repeatedly for his release on health grounds and was eventually successful. Such examples of Arab-Israeli co-operation in the humanitarian field are rarely publicized, but we are constantly exploring new areas of co-operation, which in time will be the basis for peace.18 *** Following the death of Arafat, Palestinian presidential elections were scheduled for January 9, 2005. Seven candidates contested the election, but Hamas and Islamic Jihad declared they would boycott and urged supporters to stay away. Accusations abounded that the elections would not be free and fair, Israel would not allow unfettered access to the voting booth for Palestinians, and that internal corruption would invalidate and delegitimize the results.

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I didn’t think so. My sense was that Palestinians craved the opportunity to elect their leaders. When Rami Hamdallah was appointed Secretary-General of the Palestinian Central Elections Commission, my confidence in the process grew. I felt it important that I be there – that I see things for myself and with my own eyes and then be able to tell people what I saw. Canada joined with the European Union as part of its delegation of Election Observers to the Palestinian Presidential elections. A call from Canadian Foreign Affairs sought volunteers. I applied, passed the test, and was appointed as a Canadian election observer with the European Mission to the Palestinian presidential elections. *** My 10-day mission began with two days of training by the EU for all its election observers. Most of the observers were young people who left work as teachers, sailors, bakers, and toy-makers to take part in this mission. Disproportionately from Eastern Europe – countries once under the domination of the former Soviet Union – promoting free elections had real meaning for them, and most were veteran election observers having participated in other missions in various parts of the world. The first part of the training was operational, provided by election and logistic personnel. I was impressed with the precision and detail – from following the delivery of ballots, their protection once delivered, inspecting voting procedures, booths, and respect for election regulations such as proof of eligibility, privacy, and access. I had never thought about how complex the procedure is and how many safeguards are needed, and the presentations were excellent. The operational presentation was followed by a Palestinian professor of Political Science whose topic was to assist election observers to understand the political complexity of Palestine and to understand the number of Palestinian political parties, their platforms, and their base of support. I was disappointed. The professor hardly touched on any of the political processes and parties within Palestine. Rather, I heard a standard monologue about the Israeli occupation, its effects, ultimate goals, and methods – entirely from a one-sided perspective. At the end of his discourse, I asked the first question: How he thinks his discourse has assisted us to better understand and carry out our mission to monitor the elections. I got no response . . . a few politically correct sneers, and, then, there were no further questions as we had a great deal to learn from the EU officials about what to do and how to do it. I was dispatched to Ramallah and assigned to 18 villages in the surrounding area. We were housed in a modern efficiency apartment compound. Each of us had a roommate – mine was Jakob from Poland – for many years a sailor and officer in the Polish navy, and, becoming eligible for a pension, he started a toy manufacturing business. Fortunately for me, he was experienced and had observed seven elections in Africa, South East Asia, and Eastern Europe. His preferred breakfast was strong coffee and raw onions, garlic and broccoli wrapped around a piece of herring, which he brought from Poland and which I would not try more

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than once. We had a car, a driver, and a translator and spent two days touring the election polling stations, introducing ourselves to the election officials and following the delivery of the “sensitive materials” (ballots, ink, etc.). We were well-received at all 18 polling stations. Election officials – employees of the local school – were diligent in every respect. Police slept in unheated school rooms with the “sensitive material” to make sure they were protected. Election officials were pleased to see us, appreciated that we were there, and responsive to all questions we put to them.19 On the day of the election, we left at 5:00 A.M. to begin the all-day process of travelling through the mountain villages north of Ramallah to observe elections. The villages varied: Some were totally isolated on remote hilltops and impoverished. Others, one in particular, consisted of recently constructed or underconstruction McMansions in luxurious style. These were financed by villagers who had moved to Chicago, prospered, and return every summer to their home villages. At each polling station, election representatives were present from the major parties and often from all of the parties. Only at one polling station was a party representative overly zealous. He accompanied a voter into the ballot booth. We objected and it was handled according to regulations. We returned later to this polling station and observed that the head of the polling station had brought in police in our absence to ensure the unfettered access of voters to the voting booth. In all places, we observed that voting was free, fair, without fear or intimidation. All polling stations were in schools, which hold the respect of the community and are focal points of community life. All materials were secure. We checked seals, ballot boxes, and the voting itself. The atmosphere was dignified and somewhat celebratory. People were able to move freely and there was no hindrance by Israeli authorities. We waited with the ballot boxes and followed their delivery to the central election office.20 The election officials displayed extraordinary kindness and patience – particularly toward older voters. In one village, I witnessed two teachers – election officials – lift a 90-year-old woman in her wheelchair up some stairs so she could vote for the first time in her life. Through my translator, I interviewed her after she voted, grinning ear to ear, with her purple-stained thumb raised upward as proof that she had voted. I asked her why voting today was so important to her. With a captivating, toothless smile and joy in her eyes, she kept pointing to the school yard – saying “hada, hada.” The translator spoke with her and explained. She is pointing to her daughter in the school yard, and her daughter’s daughter, and her daughter’s, daughter’s daughter, and even her daughter’s, daughter’s, daughter’s, daughter’s daughter. And she says, “You see them? They will all know that I am the first woman to ever vote in this village in Palestine. God is great.” This is what I saw, with my own eyes, with the privilege of an election observer.

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What I saw was an expression of a profound transformation reminiscent of the finest and most inspiring moments of the U.S. civil rights movement. The Palestinian people acted collectively, with dignity, care and devotion to assert their identity as a people and their right to determine their future through democratic means. The vote was less about the candidates themselves, but more so between the overwhelming majority who by voting expressed their belief in civil society, and those who boycotted the elections.21 Voters elected PLO chairman Mahmoud Abbas to a four-year term.22 President Abbas and Prime Minister Sharon held a summit at Sharm el-Sheikh on February 8, 2005. President Mahmoud Abbas declared that violence would come to an end, and Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon agreed to release 900 Palestinian prisoners and withdraw Israeli forces from areas of the West Bank. This is considered the “official” end of the Second Intifada, although sporadic violence would continue outside PA control.23 *** Field practice was the most exciting aspect of the Winter 2005 semester. Each fellow carried out a 24-day field tutorial over a three-to-four-month period. The fellows were exposed to issues and practice approaches in Montreal and had an opportunity to work alongside local organizers. Fellows experienced street work with the homeless at “Dialogue” in the Downtown Montreal YMCA; working with teenage girls in “Leadership in Action” at the YWCA; community economic development with the Empress Cultural Center and the Sherbrooke Street West Merchants Association; providing information and referral services to immigrants at Tyndale-St George Community Center; working on urban agriculture at Action Communi-terre, on housing issues with Habitation Communitaire NDG and the Immigrant Worker’s Association, and on counseling and fund-raising with women survivors of conjugal violence at Women Aware. Project Genesis hosted a fellow in various storefront and outreach activities and received all fellows for workshops on community organizing and storefront services. The Cavendish Health and Social Service Center provided opportunities to observe their practices in a wide variety of health and social work services, and the South Asian Women’s Community Center shared their activities around elder abuse in their community. Through these experiences, fellows connected professionally in practice, and, most of all, to experience firsthand the real-life situations of marginalized people in Montreal and to participate in promoting their welfare. Peace Building activities intensified during the second semester. The narrative exchanges continued, and we added an additional, evening course: Conflict Resolution: The Pacific Path Approach. Conceived and co-taught by Brian Bronfman, the course focused on “using the Pacific Path approach as a means of developing conflict resolution abilities, including underlying communication and analytical skills.” The course focused on resolving micro-level conflicts – primarily between individuals – and examined the various elements within a conflict from feelings

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and perceptions, to misunderstandings and stereotyping, ultimately examining mediation skills needed to resolve them. The course combined theory and imaginative class exercises. Along with the narrative exchange, fellows were gaining tools to work on resolving conflicts back home. Over the course of the year the fellows by and large found their place with each other. We had prepared ourselves for friction among them. The process of the fellows learning about each other, absorbing each other’s narratives and simply coexisting in a daily, routine way defused a lot of anger by gradually disarming the ignorance that fueled it. Lisa Van Dusen recalls: “I remember moments of, for instance, finding Amaya—who, as you know, grew up on a kibbutz — crying in the hallway outside my office because she had just left a class/group meeting during which she took delivery of the Palestinian fellows’ stories and family histories, and she was both upset at what they had lived through and angry that she had always been told a different story. Or watching Arik and Qais — which is a lot of testosterone at one table — doing a reverse role-play exercise in one of Brian Bronfman’s conflict resolution classes that was just fascinating for its passive-aggressive dramatic projection and how they pushed through those reflexes to a different level of knowledge. I want to underscore that these people were not saints, they came with all the baggage shared by everyone on both sides of the divide, but they did the sometimes difficult and wrenching work of understanding each other.” We held a series of public workshops, which inspired the as well as the broader student body. Jimmy Weinblatt led off the series with “Peace Building and Inequality: The Perspective of a Social Economist.” He recounted how Palestinian and Israeli social economists work together in the AIX Group with a vision toward a post-conflict, open-border reality. In describing his involvement, Jimmy observed that “although economists cannot create peace, healthy economic policy could help make the period after peace more harmonious through the skilled pursuit of common interest.” Filmmaker Diane Bloom, who had recently won prestigious awards for her moving and controversial documentary: “An Unlikely Friendship,” showed and discussed her film, which is situated in heavily segregated Durham, North Carolina in the 1970s. It documents a process through which an African-American woman welfare rights organizer and the leader of the local Ku Klux Klan are forced to encounter each other in a city-wide initiative regarding their schools. Beginning with angry, threatening attacks, the two leaders learn to understand that the poor quality of their schools and the limited future of their children – both Black and white – requires them to work together for change. They do, and the film documents how this unfolded. Montreal filmmaker Magnus Issacson presented his acclaimed documentary “Power,” which chronicles the courageous and successful struggle of the Cree people to preserve their ancestral land rights. Watching Cree leaders canoeing from James Bay in Northern Quebec to the United Nations in New York with stops

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along the way where they were greeted and supported by local communities was a powerful and effective illustration of how we can connect to unite for change. Last, a discussion series regarding religious perspectives on social justice, conflict, and peace were held with Imam Salam El-Menyawi, Rabbi Ron Aigen, and renowned theologian and McGill professor of religious studies – Gregory Baum. Professor Baum, a world authority on reconciliation, had been a central architect of Vatican II. He concluded the seminar series with the following: Conflict makes few people generous. But dialogue purges us of our prejudice. It enriches us by an understanding of the other. One can see what one looks like to the other, and we find something to value in the other that we wish to develop in ourselves.24 The fellows didn’t always agree, but they learned to like and respect each other notwithstanding their diferences. They represented the program in various forums – including one in May – during the last of their many visits to my home in Willsboro, New York, where they stayed with host families that they had gotten to know during the year. The fellows spoke to a consolidated school assembly of high-school students and then at the historic Elizabethtown courthouse to participate in a daylong series of events in recognition of “John Brown Day,” which also featured a noted historian who examined the question: “Would John Brown be considered a terrorist today?” Jim Olwell wrote up his observations of the weekend events: I had never seen such bonding occur between strangers from different cultures and parts of the world as I did when a three-van caravan of MMEP fellows and their families departed on a sunny May morning, to cross the American border into upstate New York, heading for Willsboro central school. In Willsboro, three Fellows, Dalia, Abir and Jamal, spoke eloquently to an assembly of nearly 300 students from area schools. During a lively question and answer period, one student, seeing fellow Faten Abu Za’roor’s teenage daughter Lina, asked her opinion. Understandably reluctant, Lina resisted the supplication of her mother and father, all the fellows, and various school officials to respond. There was a hush. This was interrupted by one set of hands clapping slowly. Then five students, then twenty-five, and before long the entire assembly of students was clapping rhythmically. Lina resisted no longer. It was simple, she said. She wanted to go home, see her friends, and live in peace. Students broke into applause. The fellows spent the evening with their host families. The next morning, they gathered at the historic Elizabethtown courthouse which was the site where the famous and controversial American abolitionist John Brown had ‘lain in state’ over 150 years before, around the time of the American Civil War. Jim Torczyner opened by telling the packed courthouse about MMEP. Next, Qais gave a poetic and much appreciated commentary about overcoming one’s preconceived notions. Amaya and Faten spoke movingly about the terrible sense of physical insecurity one must live with in the region. Quite

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Over 100 friends, Montreal host families, classmates, professors, mentors, tutors, and dignitaries from Israel, Palestine, and Jordan joined us at the McCord Museum of Canadian History and cheered as each fellow ascended to the stage and received their certificate. Now, the fellows were of to explore Canada on their own, to then return to their homes, and to take up common work in building our centers and strengthening peacebuilding network across borders. *** In August 2005, Ariel Sharon’s controversial plan to disengage from Gaza was put into effect. Benjamin Netanyahu, former Prime Minister, resigned his cabinet post as Finance Minister in protest, and Deputy Prime Minister Ehud Olmert was appointed to succeed him.26 Israel ordered Israeli settlers in the Gaza Strip to leave their settlements or face eviction. In response, rallies took place all over Israel in opposition to leaving Gaza and the forced evacuation of Israeli citizens who, by many, were thought of as defenders of the land of Israel. On August 17, about 14,000 Israeli soldiers and police forcibly evicted settlers with scenes of troops dragging screaming settlers from houses and synagogues further polarizing the nation. By August 23, the evacuation of 25 Jewish settlements in the Gaza Strip and West Bank was completed.27 *** The management committee met in September 2005 at the Ambassador Hotel in East Jerusalem to review progress and talk about how the political context and its underlying uncertainty impacts our work. As a result of the external environment’s negative effect the work is growing, and directors find themselves overworked with the immediate demands of their daily responsibilities, focusing on the human problems. For example, the Wall surrounding Jerusalem is creating more poverty and serious need for the services provided by the Al-Quds Community Action Center. The psychological impact is tremendous. As one of the partners put it: “If you are living in a swamp, how can you think of Peace?” And this resulted in increasing the levels of uncertainty for everybody involved.”28

Advancing peace 247 We put our heads together around two emerging initiatives: “short-fellows” and a regional conference. The “short fellows program” would be for one year – six months at McGill and a six-month internship back at our centers. We considered this option because, despite the value of the two-year MSW program, it was expensive, and we had some savings from fellowships we were unable to grant. Consequently, we introduced a non-degree one-year fellowship in Community Practice and recruited seven fellows. Jim Olwell shaped the program and recruited three candidates from Al-Quds, one from An Najah, two from Israel, and one from Jordan. The seven fellows’ six-month stay in Montreal combined both course work and direct community practice. Jim Olwell summarized this experience: Each of the participants engaged in an intense course of activities including: a five-month field placement at a local community organization; a 14-week seminar in community practice; a 14-week advanced seminar in empowerment with presentations by some of the finest organizers and theoreticians available; 15 weeks of peace building activities and a homestay with Canadian families who prepared bed, food and an attentive ear. Then there were public presentations, and group outings to hear Dr. Hanan Ashrawi, and a visit to the Montreal Holocaust Museum. It was not all easy going, but the fellows had staying power. They made constant efforts to communicate, to exchange, to integrate, and to learn.29 Three of the seven fellows went on to distinguished careers. Kobi Halpern returned to community advocacy and currently is Director of the Strategic Planning Department of the Ministry of National Health Insurance. Samah Salah went on to do her PhD in England, wrote her thesis on narratives of women prisoners, and now chairs the social work department at An Najah University. Subhi Ejjeh returned to the Jordan Red Crescent and is currently Head of Disaster Preparedness at the Qatar Red Crescent. *** We were eager to push our peace-building efforts further and move beyond our circle of fellows, staff, professionals, and academic colleagues. Our centers adopted each other’s programs and worked together professionally and institutionally; could we extend this to the people themselves – to the grassroots and our volunteers? Would it be possible to put political conflicts aside, and, if only for a few days, bring together 100 of our volunteers from Israel, Jordan and Palestine to have a conference together about their experiences with rights-based practice? Canadian filmmaker Ellen Flanders produced 10-minute films of each center with Arabic and Hebrew subtitles by coordinating with locally based camera crews for shooting of the film at their respective locations. Given that security issues do not always permit partners to visit each other’s centers, the documentary, in conjunction with initiatives such as the Regional Conference, we believed, could provide a sense of collective ownership for the centers. We decided to debut the film at the opening of the regional conference and budgeted for 100 participants – staff, fellows, and volunteers of our centers. Holding the conference in Jordan was

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most convenient if the security situation permitted. At the time, Jordan was quiet. I was mandated to set to work to bring it about.30 After the meetings, I took Sami and Bilal in my car to tour West Jerusalem. On the way back, we did a slow loop through the Old City, until we found ourselves in front of a “flying checkpoint.”31 An officer asked us for identification. I spoke to her in Hebrew and handed her my Canadian passport and Sami’s and Bilal’s identity cards and entrance permits. She took her time, looked them over – men in their 50s – not the usual profile for terrorist suspects. “What are you doing with them?” she asked in Hebrew. I explained that we are members of a management committee of a McGill program that I directed. which involved social work in Israel, the West Bank (careful not to antagonize by saying Palestine), and Jordan. “Why are you helping them?” she demanded. Still patient, I said because we are in it together. As my grandmother taught me, when her neighbors were happy, she was also happy. “So why are you with them now?” she asked. I was slowly losing my cool. They had permits from the government of Israel, which meant they were invited guests and ought to be treated as such. “I can arrest them and you,” she said. “For what?” I asked. “You shouldn’t be with them”. “And you shouldn’t be acting in a way which is beyond your official duties,” I responded. She was angry. She pointed to three stripes on her arm asked: “Do you know what I have here?” I responded: “I don’t care because I see you have nothing up here” tapping on my temple as she tapped on her military stripes. Then I was worried. I couldn’t blow off like that and jeopardize my friends Sami and Bilal. I insisted that she call her superior officer. A half hour later, a person with a few more stripes arrived. I explained to him the incident and that behavior like that was unnecessary, uncivilized, and did not reflect well on the State of Israel. Interestingly, we got into a discussion about what MMEP does. He wished me well and we were on our way. Two Israeli soldiers and two completely different attitudes. Now, all this took place in Hebrew. Sami thanked me as I was driving the car – he was in the backseat. I turned my head, “Did you understand the conversation? You told me you only picked up a few words of Hebrew in prison.” Sami blushed, smiled, and understatedly said “I know more Hebrew than I let you know.” Finally, after seven years, our friendship and trust had evolved deeply enough to let go of disguises. *** I returned to the region on November 1, 2005 to arrange for the regional conference in Amman. I met with members of Jordanian and Israeli security services to ensure the safety and security of all participants traveling to and from Jordan. While in Jordan, I visited the incoming Israeli ambassador. I had met occasionally with each of the Israeli ambassadors since diplomatic relations were established with Jordan. The embassy was always helpful in securing visas for our fellows and board members, as well as medical authorization for critical patients to receive treatment in Israel. The incoming ambassador, Yaacov Rosen, had been the chargé d’affaires a decade earlier, following his service as chargé d’affaires in Egypt when Israel first opened an embassy there. Yaacov was also a close friend of my cousin

Advancing peace 249 Evelyn, and the families got to know each other well when he oversaw science and culture at the Israeli consulate in New York. He and his successor, Danny Nevo, became key interlocutors for our work with Mohammad Al-Hadid to facilitate the entrance of Mogen David Adom into the International Red Cross Federation. At issue was the emblem. Since the founding of the Red Cross movement, three symbols were adopted: The Red Cross (which is the reverse of the Swiss flag) the Crescent, and the Lion, which was used by Iran at the time of the Federation’s founding. The Israeli organization – Mogen David Adom – the Red Jewish Star – could not get their emblem accepted and would not use any of the exiting alternatives. Consequently, they were repeatedly denied admission to the organization, and many believed that the emblem was just an excuse to exclude the Israelis. Through his involvement with us, Mohammed first met Mogen David Adom officials in Israel and took up the cause. He wanted both the Palestinian Red Crescent – which had not been admitted into the Federation because it does not represent an official member state – and Mogen David Adom to both gain acceptance. He was working on the adoption of a new symbol: a red diamond – within which any member could utilize the symbol of their organization. I assisted Mohammad in his efforts to become chair of the Standing Committee of the International Federation of the Red Cross and lobbied on his behalf. Mohammad chaired the proceedings, which I attended as a delegate-at-large where a vote was taken and the decision to admit Israel’s Mogen David Adom together with the Palestinian Red Crescent was announced to applause in Geneva. *** I sought out a quality hotel in Amman – of which there are many – which would give us the best package deal for 100 rooms for three nights, with two meals a day served at the hotel for 80 of the guests. I had an issue for the other 20 – they were all religiously observant Israeli Jews, and there are no kosher restaurants in Amman. I came up with a plan. I had spoken with Merav and Talal: What if we hired the women’s small cooking enterprise our center helped establish to cook 20 meals twice a day for three days, and we would pay them the rate we would pay a caterer? Not only that, the program would buy two sets of brand-new pots etc. that the women would get to keep, and we would bring over kosher meat from Israel. And, we would send over Merav who would act as “mashgeach”32 and teach them to cook kosher. I introduced myself to the management of the Radisson Hotel to negotiate the package. The sticking point was that the hotel’s policy did not allow for outside caterers to bring food into the hotel. I said this was a deal breaker. We had to do it this way: 100 rooms times three nights, plus we pay the hotel for 500 meals, but they must allow 120 meals to be brought in. We agreed. I checked into the hotel for the night – leaving for Jerusalem early the next day. A few hours after I checked out of the Radisson, on November 9, 2005 a series of coordinated bomb attacks took place at three hotel lobbies in Amman. The explosions at the Grand Hyatt Hotel, the Radisson SAS Hotel where I had stayed

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the night before, and the Days Inn killed at least 59 and injured 115. I learned of the news when I got back to Jerusalem that evening. I realized how lucky I was but also that Jordan would no longer be considered safe – certainly not for a while. My kosher cooking peace-building plan would not happen. We moved the conference to Istanbul.33

Istanbul Ninety-six Israelis, Palestinians, Jordanians, and Canadians landed in Istanbul in February 2006 to meet each other – many for the first time – to explore each other’s work and to think about how to promote rights-based practice regionally. The challenge was already evident in the travel arrangements as arrivals took place over three days. Jordanians flew in from Amman. Israelis from Tel Aviv. Palestinians were not permitted to fly out of Tel Aviv and had no airport. Instead, they had to cross the Allenby Bridge – itself usually requiring an entire day’s travel to pass through checkpoints, be processed by Israeli and Palestinian authorities at the Allenby Bridge, to wait at least one hour to take the short bus ride over, and to be then processed again on the Jordanian side. The group included academics, former fellows, center staff, and center volunteers who ranged in age from early 20s to late 70s and ranged in their political views from seeking coexistence to radical rejection of the other. We had to represent both this diversity and our values in all that we did and in the structure of the program. Each session was led by a Jordanian, a Palestinian, and an Israeli. Simultaneous translation was provided with headphones for all participants for plenary sessions, and translators were present in each breakout group. The keynote plenary was given by Professor Aye Altinay – a Turkish feminist who presented “Women’s Grassroots Organizing in Eastern Turkey: Peacebuilding in the Borderlands of Gender and Ethnic Politics.” The program included time for discussions within one’s own group and with other groups, social opportunities at meals, evening events, a shopping excursion to the famous Covered Market, and during tours of Istanbul’s renowned sights such as the Blue Mosque, constructed between 1609 and 1616 with handpainted blue tiles adorning the interior walls, the Sultan’s Harem with over 1,000 rooms – an exquisite architectural masterpiece, and the former Judería (Jewish quarter) at the core of the Turkish Jewish community’s 2,400-year history.34 I opened the conference with an official welcome but was immediately interrupted by a young kufiyah-wearing Palestinian, who demanded that we first pass a resolution against the occupation. Sami took over: Let’s spend some time sharing what we are for, rather than what we are against. Let’s find that which brings us together rather than that which might separate us. We are all warriors for peace and justice working under different conditions with different possibilities. The audience erupted with unanimity. “Let’s see the film,” they chanted in good humor. Everyone wanted to see the film and see themselves in it. These were

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committed volunteers in the service of others to create positive change. Members of the audience beamed when they saw images of themselves on a large screen. They were absorbed by the experiences of the other centers, and, without a doubt, a spark was lit. For the first time, many saw Jews and Arabs with a common agenda, dealing with the same problems, working out of storefronts with similar designs, and advocating for their people. Over three days, the group learned from each other, ate together, went out together, shared their lives together, recognized their common purpose, and vowed to stay in touch. We conducted a formal evaluation. Four out of five gave us very positive feedback – especially about the program content. One in 25 rated the program poorly. To the question “How do you think the conference impacted on you?” the most frequent written comments received were: • • • • •

Change of mind and views about “the other” and the way that they think. Important interaction between people from different backgrounds. Understanding different feelings of “need.” An informational experience which has given rise to many new ideas. More developed understanding of MMEP’s regional initiative.35

In the final session before we went our separate ways, the group decided to construct a wooden tree – “A Tree of Hope,” and each participant was invited to attach a leaf to the tree in their own language. Merav Moshe described these events: How do you create a context within which individuals from Israel, Jordan and Palestine can begin to build relationships? This was the key question which directed the conceptualization and implementation of the first McGill Middle East Program Regional Conference; a conference that brought together nearly 100 hundred volunteers, activists, board and staff members from five centers in the three societies. Reflecting back on the preparations that led to the conference and the days of the conference itself, I would have to conclude that its success was the fruit of the message that is put into practice on a daily basis in each of the centers: that is the message of rights and rights-based practice. MMEP has created a language that transcends the borders of conflict, the boundaries of ethnic and religious identity, and the limitations of Hebrew and Arabic. As I listened to members of the three societies share their personal stories, and how they connected them to the rights-based community centers on the first morning of the conference, I could feel the basis for relationships being formed through a common understanding of the impact of disentitlement and entitlement on the human spirit. I was not alone in my sentiments. Our “Tree Of Hope” dedicated during the conference’s final session, bears the words of the Palestinians, the Jordanians, and the Israelis alike: ‘the conference was too short’; ‘We have only just begun to get to know one another’; “When will we meet again?’. Inshallah, G-d willing, Be’ezrath Hashem, soon . . . very soon.36 ***

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On January 4, 2006, Prime Minister Ariel Sharon suffered a hemorrhagic stroke and fell into a coma from which he would not recover. Ehud Olmert became the acting prime minister that night. On January 26, 2006, legislative elections took place in Palestine. Hamas was elected, and Ismail Haniyeh was nominated as Prime Minister, establishing a Palestinian national unity government with Fatah, which would later collapse when Hamas violently overthrew Fatah in Gaza. In response, the Quartet (apart from Russia) cut all funds to the Hamas-led Palestinian Authority. Hamas is on the list of international terrorist organizations, and, consequently, ineligible for international assistance. By gaining control of the Palestinian legislature – through democratic means – the Palestinian Authority and its institutions became ineligible for foreign assistance. The Palestinian Authority had a monthly cash deficit of $60–$70 million after receiving $50–$55 million a month from Israel in taxes and customs duties collected by Israeli officials at the borders. After the elections, the Palestinian stock market fell about 20 per cent. Israel ceased transferring the tax receipts to the PA, which accounted for a third of the PA’s budget and paid the wages of 160,000 Palestinian civil servants (among them 60,000 security and police officers). In May 2006, hundreds of Palestinians demonstrated in Gaza and the West Bank demanding payment of their wages. Tension between Hamas and Fatah rose as a result of this “economic squeeze” on the PA.37 The elections created a conundrum for Canada as well. While also freezing funds to the Palestinian Authority, Canada was eager to help stabilize Palestine through its assistance but now could not do so through the Palestinian Authority government. Ed Doe became CIDA’s manager for our program and responsible for work in Jordan and Palestine. His previous stint was in Nepal, and one project he worked on was the development of the archives of the Dalai Lama. Senior, with many years of experience, he came to us with no prior Middle East history, visited our programs in the region, and liked our philosophy. He asked if we would be willing to accept additional funds and an extension on our CIDA grant through which we could extend our services and increase our activities in responding to “basic humanitarian needs,” which were in peril in much of Palestine. The idea was an attractive one. We could establish new centers and reach more people, and we would be assured of major Canadian governmental funding for several additional years. Our partners wished to expand their reach and build on the work they were doing. CSC in Nablus had begun outreach activities to neighboring villages. Sami and Bilal had visited Community Advocacy and were impressed with the RightsMobile program, and they wanted to build on this idea, with a mobile truck that would set up voluntary organizations in each village and provide training on how to advocate and organize. Al-Quds University’s main campus is in Abu Dis – a suburb a few kilometers from Jerusalem. Surrounded by the separation barrier, Al-Quds wanted to establish a center alongside its campus community among people now cut off from Jerusalem by the wall. In Amman, the Jordan Red Crescent wished to sponsor a center in its neighborhood, which is located adjacent to the Wahdat

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refugee camp where we had first thought to establish a center. Ashrafeya, a neighborhood home to Jordanians, Palestinian-Jordanians, Iraqis, and other refugees with both Muslim and Christian populations was ripe for a rights-based practice center. In parallel, Community Advocacy had just received a major grant to open a center in the mixed Jewish-Arab city of Lod in central Israel – just a few miles from BenGurion airport. CIDA officials had initially agreed to a 3.5 million additional budget extension over three years for “the fulfillment of humanitarian needs in an emerging environment of crisis” by establishing three new CIDA-funded practice centers – two in Palestine and one in Jordan, as well as an additional center in the mixed city of Lod, Israel – funded directly to Community Advocacy by the New York Federation of Jewish Philanthropies. This proposed budget also included a cohort of 12 fellows – four from each country – to advance the new centers, which, according to our projections, would become operational when the fellows returned for their second year of the fellowship in their home countries. CIDA supported the ideas but was bound by Canadian Treasury Board rules, which did not permit more than $3,000,000 in additional funding. To conform to this policy and limit MMEP’s overall extension budget to three million, CIDA requested that we reduce the extension period from three years to two and that CIDA would not fund an additional cohort of fellows as funding priorities were urgent humanitarian needs. This solved some problems but also created difficulties. It caused some insecurity as the new initiatives that form the expansion would have only two years to meet their objectives and no time to build long-term sustainability. Notwithstanding, the budget was revised to two years and without a cohort of fellows. On November 2, 2006 CIDA officials joined our management committee meetings in Montreal to hear from the center directors directly and to confirm the two-year expansion objectives and program budget. The meetings began with updates from center directors and provided an opportunity for Ottawa-based CIDA officials to discuss the program firsthand with those who manage it on the ground. Sami described Nablus as a closed city with the only way in or out through checkpoints, and this has curbed Community Service Center’s activities outside the city. “The work of the Nablus Centre of late has been designed to accommodate the reality of life in Nablus due to the situation.” Some 2,000 residents a year benefit from “The Open Door” storefront program. Other programs include psychosocial support to elderly in the old city; supportive education where student volunteers work with children ages three through five who need extra help at school; Thalassemia patients – a form of sickle cell anemia in area children, which requires them to have frequent blood transfusions. The project includes awareness raising to avoid this genetic disease and home visits and has seen 800 units of blood donated and works with disabled children: By law, these children are to be integrated into regular schools, but in practice this has not happened. The project works to gain access for these children. Sami underscored the centrality of voluntary effort. Thousands of students pass through the center each year to get an orientation and training for their

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voluntary community service. More than 300 public institutions and NGOs make use of these volunteers, who devote 32 hours per semester. Similarly, the housing renovation program has been sustained: Two years ago a great many housing renovations were undertaken, last year we depended on local funds and local community donations. In the end, each dollar invested in these renovations becomes worth $3 in what it can pay for. Money within the community has been raised by our local fundraising arm, the Goodwill Forum.38 Marie Claude Grenon, (CIDA) asked whether it is more difficult to recruit volunteers now under closure. Sami’s response: There is no volunteer recruitment problem. Even the An Najah University student volunteer program, which we coordinate, provides many volunteers but now, there are even some cases of three generations of volunteers in a single family. Also, there are many unemployed grad students who like to volunteer in order to gain experience and later recommendations when they enter the workforce. The Goodwill Forum, our local fundraising arm, is the fruit of our volunteer program. Consisting of many retired teachers, many women, had been doing philanthropy as individuals and then formed a group in the Centre. They are now in their fifth year of working together.39 Talal took Sami’s housing program and convinced Habitat for Humanity in Amman to assist one family where sibling sexual abuse was suspected, as 11 children of all ages slept in one room. Habitat renovated the home and created separate bedrooms for the girls and boys. The fund had a policy not to fund work in cities, but, after visiting the center in Amman, Habitat changed its policy, and 20 houses were renovated in Sweileh through the fund. The Sweileh center assisted 6,000 residents through its storefront in 2005. Between August and October 2006 alone, the storefront assisted 10,000 people. This extraordinary increase was largely due to the war in Iraq, which has seen many Iraqis move to Jordan and, most recently, the war in Lebanon, adding many Lebanese to the neighborhood as well. The center has approximately 250 volunteers – 200 are students, 50 are from the community itself – including 10 volunteers who were former clients and now run programs. There are daily programs in elderly education and literacy in collaboration with the Social Development Ministry and medical testing, in association with the Health Ministry. The center has programs underway right now, providing educational, legal, psychological, economic, and home support. Twenty women have received funds to start their own micro-economic projects. Many of them are single mothers coping with low self-esteem and awaiting court decisions with respect to their husbands. The housing program is now moving to renovate 50, and there are 150 on the waiting list. Talal said that JOHUD would like to expand the MMEP model to their 50 centers. Further networking resulted in new funding from UNIFEM to combat

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violence against women; MEPI – for the center’s single Mothers Program; and Habitat for Humanity. Najwa Silwadi updated activities of the Al-Quds Community Action Center in East Jerusalem. “From the beginning of the year through the end of September the center reached 23,384 people through storefront, legal assistance, civic education, community education and technological information programs, as well as voluntary work units.” Najwa highlighted the center for the empowerment of women in the Old City, which targets women and youth and received approval in September from an EU fund for €660,000. Implementation awaits improvement in the political situation. Barbara Epstein described the significance of Community Advocacy opening a new center in Lod. Work in Lod allows a real focus on social rights and shows that all the poor, Jewish and Arab alike, are discriminated against, some more than others. Lod is comprised of Arabs born in Israel, Arabs married to Palestinians who live there illegally, and Bedouin. In the Jewish community there are native Israelis, and many Ethiopian, and Russian immigrants, as well as Samaritans. The very big challenge is to deal with the serious discrimination while you have the Jewish-Arab mix. The center is completely mixed with Jewish and Arab co-coordinators. The storefront is to open on November 12th.40 In the welfare to work project, Community Advocacy talked to 3,000 people and aided in the righting of appeals – winning 70 per cent of their cases. The minister of industry and communications agreed to eight amendments written by Community Advocacy – limiting the removal of benefits for people who miss work, removing certain segments of the population from the program such as those within five years of retirement or who have been out of the workforce for four to seven years, and additional childcare provisions for single mothers. The fifth co-op is opening. Food is jointly purchased now by some 7,000 people through the co-ops. Community Advocacy has proposed a law to remove VAT from basic foodstuff, which has been tabled next year. The storefronts handled 4,593 cases and reached 2,500 more through outreach. There is also an almost daily outreach table at the main offices of Welfare-towork. The bad news, Barbara cautioned, is that funds are very tight. There have been serious cutbacks from U.S. foundations: “we are in our most critical situation in our 13 years of existence. There are funds available for new projects, but not for our existing work.”41 *** With this update in mind, the management committee and CIDA representatives took up the proposed Phase II Extension and the issue of fellows. Sami spoke up first: The Fellowship is linked to the mission of the Centers and the universities. We are not service organizations, there is a larger mission. Social work in

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Jimmy Weinblatt, Rector of Ben Gurion University, supported Sami’s views. The needs will grow, both due to the conflict and due to the increased awareness of the work of the centers. The expertise around the table must be expanded and promoted. Capacity-building is needed for the expansion, which demands more skilled, professional manpower. The Fellowships are a very important part of this.43 Najwa added: There are no graduate schools of social work in Palestine that have international standing. There is a great need for intensive training. A main component of the program is to have the opportunity to look forward into the future, into the founding of a Palestinian school of social work. The Al Quds Center is a move in the right direction, between the academics and the institution. Funders have capital but not the expertise to develop these initiatives on the ground. For that we need highly trained human resources.44 Talal stated that there are many centers now adopting the rights-based approach. The main obstacle is that we need professionals to be able to do this. The Amman Centre had three staff last year and me. We need more students, with master’s degrees, to be able to expand this approach in a professional way. The only possibility to do this right now is through the MMEP fellowship program at McGill.45 Mohammad Al Hadid added that the fellowship feeds the program and is especially important in the second phase. “The expansion cannot afford a weak link.” Mohammad hoped that CIDA would consider funding the fellowship given its benefit to the program, the centers, and the people. Marie Claude recognized the value and contribution of the fellowship program to the centers and the good level of training received at McGill. CIDA also understands the concern about sustainability and the need for a critical mass of fellows. The question is what constitutes a critical mass? There is an issue of cost effectiveness. The fellowships are a lot of money for a few people.46

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Varsen responded, “The issue is not what constitutes critical mass. The issue at hand is that additional fellows are needed urgently as the existing centers are already stretched too thin to be sustainable, and new centers are opening.”47 The partners proposed that some existing Phase II funds, currently allocated to networking, research and regional activities, be reallocated to the fellowship program. The CIDA officials agreed that funds from the existing pool could be reallocated by the partners. The costs of the fellowship (approximately $800,000 over two years) would be split in thirds: one third reallocated from the existing CIDA Phase II budget; one third from the Quebec Ministry of International Relations through foreign tuition waivers and annual grants; for the remainder, the centers would absorb the costs of the second year of the fellows within their center budgets. With full knowledge that, by entering this expansion phase, we would backburner important regional initiatives in research, conferences, and publications, that it would not be possible for the three new centers to sustain themselves after two-year funding, and, with an acknowledgement by CIDA that we would need additional funds to sustain the new centers, we embarked on Phase II Extension with a measure of apprehension and a large dose of passion.

Notes 1 Lisa Van Dusen email July 15, 2019. 2 Notwithstanding, the Canadian Overhead Costs are far less than those of American Universities, which reach 70 per cent. 3 I was, however, generous with titles. Among our seven-member full- and part-time staff, four had the title of director. 4 Israel Ministry of Foreign Affairs, https://mfa.gov.il/mfa/foreignpolicy/terrorism/ palestinian/pages/victims%20of%20palestinian%20violence%20and%20terrorism% 20sinc.aspx. 5 Legal Consequences of the Construction of a Wall in the Occupied Palestinian Territory Archived 2010–07–06 at the Wayback Machine, International Court of Justice Advisory Opinion, July 9, 2004. 6 Jim Torczyner, Memo to: Nicky, David, Jim and Lisa: TWO DAYS FROM HELL, July 26, 2004. 7 MMEP II- Semi Annual Report, December 12, 2003–September 30, 2004. 8 MMEP II- Semi Annual Report, December 12, 2003–September 30, 2004. 9 MMEP II- Semi Annual Report, December 1, 2003–September 30, 2004. 10 Robert Lafaille, “Cities of Flowers, Cities of Peace.” MMRP Newsletter, Vol. 6, No. 1, March 2005. 11 Jim Torczyner, Better Days: Notes from the Field, July 27, 2004. 12 MMEP II- Semi Annual Report, December 12, 2003–September 30, 2004. 13 Jim Olwell, “Fellowship Coordinators Report.” MMEP Newsletter, Vol. 6, No. 2, December 2005. 14 Noa Rivlin, “Learning to Listen in Montreal.” MMEP Newsletter, Vol. 6, No. 2, December 2005. 15 Qais Tarawneih, MMEP Newsletter, Vol. 6, No. 2, December 2005. 16 Jamal Al-Kirnawi, MMEP Newsletter, Vol. 6, No. 2, December 2005. 17 Jim Olwell, email Interview, July 2019. 18 His Excellency Mohammad Al-Hadid, Human Relations as a Crucial Component of Peace Building in the Middle East, McGill University, Beatty Memorial Lecture, November 24, 2004.

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Jim Torczyner, Election Report Mission: Palestinian Elections: Jan. 4–Jan. 14, 2005. Jim Torczyner, Election Report Mission: Palestinian Elections: Jan. 4–Jan. 14, 2005. Jim Torczyner, Election Report Mission: Palestinian Elections: Jan. 4 – Jan. 14, 2005. Abbas won over 62 per cent of the votes cast, with independent Mustafa Barghouti coming second, with just under 20 per cent, and the remaining candidates far behind. The election was boycotted by Hamas and Islamic Jihad. Hamas urged supporters to stay away but did not try to disrupt the election. In the Gaza Strip, where Hamas is strongest, it is estimated that about half of the eligible voters voted. www.zionism-israel.com/his/Israel_timeline_1993_present.htm; Timeline (Chronology) of Israel and Zionism 1993-present day. Gregory Baum, Perspectives on Reconciliation, McGill Middle East Program Seminar Series on Peace and Inequality, Montreal, Quebec, Canada, May, 2005. Jim Olwell, “A New York Invitation to Cultural Exchange.” MMEP Newsletter, Vol. 6, No. 2, December 2005. “Netanyahu Quits Over Gaza Pullout.” BBC News, August 7, 2005. Scott Wilson, “Netanyahu Resigns in Protest of Pullout.” The Washington Post, August 8, 2005. “Gaza settlers Ordered to Move Out.” BBC News, August 9, 2005. (Ynet) BBC NEWS | Middle East | Thousands rally against Gaza plan. MMEP, Report on the McGill Middle East Program Mid-Term Review Meeting. September 9, 2005. Jim Olwell, “Fellowship Co-Ordinator’s Report.” MMEP Newsletter, Vol. 7, No. 1, June 2006. MMEP, Report on the McGill Middle East Program Mid-Term Review Meeting. September 9, 2005. Flying checkpoints are spontaneous checkpoints set up without notice. A mashgiach is a person who supervises and certifies that the preparation of food and the ingredients themselves are in strict adherence with Jewish dietary law. Istanbul, with a Jewish community of approximately 20,000 people and an Israeli fellow with us who had immigrated from there and still had much of his family in Istanbul, provided ample choices for kosher food for our Jewish participants 200,000 Jews lived in Turkey in the early 1900s. By the time of the establishment of the State of Israel in 1948, there were about 100,000 Jews remaining in Turkey – 90 per cent of whom emigrated to Israel. MMEP Regional Conference Istanbul: Evaluation. Merav Moshe, “MMEP in Istanbul: A Close Encounter Away from Home: A Conference of Peacemakers from the People.” MMEP Newsletter, Vol. 7, No. 1, June 2006. See the following: “Israel: Battling the Bombers.” Strategypage.com. Retrieved June 12, 2014. “West Bank and Gaza Update, World Bank Group, November 2005” (PDF). Retrieved June 12, 2014. “Le Quartet cherche une solution à la banqueroute palestinienne” (in French). Le Monde, May 9, 2006. “Three Die in Fatah-Hamas Clashes.” BBC News, May 8, 2006. Minutes of the Management Committee, MMEP, Montreal November 2006. Minutes of the Management Committee, MMEP, Montreal November 2006. Minutes of the Management Committee, MMEP, Montreal November 2006. Minutes of the Management Committee, MMEP, Montreal November 2006. Minutes of the Management Committee, MMEP, Montreal November 2006. Minutes of the Management Committee, MMEP, Montreal November 2006. Minutes of the Management Committee, MMEP, Montreal November 2006. Minutes of the Management Committee, MMEP, Montreal November 2006. Minutes of the Management Committee, MMEP, Montreal November 2006. Minutes of the Management Committee, MMEP, Montreal November 2006.

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The second Intifada officially ended at the Sharm el-Sheikh Summit in 2005, but regional instability, global uncertainty, and financial chaos continued to impose their heaviest burdens on the poor and marginalized in Israel, Palestine, and Jordan. International assistance to the Palestinian Authority ceased following the election of Hamas in 20061 and created a steadily worsening situation that saw middleclass and working families turn to handouts. The Middle East Quartet’s former envoy, James Wolfensohn, characterized it as “a misguided attempt to starve the Hamas-led Palestinians into submission.”2 We noted: Trade and cooperation between areas of the West Bank is also made nearly impossible due to restrictions on travel, and the continued presence of checkpoints means that Palestinian cities and their outlying areas are fragmented into small and isolated regions. In East Jerusalem the issue of fragmentation is aggravated by the continued construction of the separation wall, cutting off Jerusalem suburbs from the city, and its rural neighbors from the markets they depend on.3 Tensions between the PLO-led presidency and the Hamas-led legislature erupted into violence in June 2007, causing severe loss of life in Gaza and resulting in the overthrow of the PLO in Gaza by Hamas. The resulting fragmentation further complicated relief efforts while it raised poverty rates even higher. In Jordan, the influx of 700,000–1,000,000 Iraqi refugees drove up prices and strained social services for the poor. The Iraqi refugees were followed by an influx of Lebanese fleeing the internal strife and the 2006 war with Israel. They would be joined by more than a million Syrian refugees fleeing their civil war – altogether increasing the overall Jordanian population by 30 per cent. “Jordan’s last population census reported the total population of the country as 9,531,712 in November 2015–2,918,125 (31 per cent) of whom were foreign nationals.”4 Israel’s budget cuts to the social safety net, accompanied by continuing reductions in the corporate tax rate, resulted in increased poverty rates, reduced

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benefits, and an ever-increasing gap between those who have and those who have not. The drastic cuts in social welfare budgets resulted in the number of recipients receiving National Insurance payments dropping from some 142,000 in 2001 to 92,000 in 2016, while the budgetary outlay dropped by about half – from NIS 4.6 billion in 2001 to NIS 2.3 billion in 2016 (at 2015 prices).5 The report of Israel’s Parliamentary Committee for the War Against Poverty (the “Elalouf Committee”) underscored in 2013 that the reduction in benefit levels caused real harm to the program’s primary objective – the provision of a reasonable, minimum standard of living. The committee recommended expanding income support and reducing cuts to the allowance because of work income. These recommendations were not implemented.6 While slashing social benefits, the then-Finance Minister Benjamin Netanyahu lowered taxes favorable to high-income earners – especially those in the top socioeconomic one per cent. For example, taxpayers who were earning NIS 25,000 or more a month took home an additional NIS 2,000–5,000 monthly. Swirski and Dagan-Buzaglo conclude that: One hand of this government gave a generous gift to the rich, while the other hand slashed allowances for those who could barely make a living, including those whose monthly income was no higher than the extra money the wealthy would now receive thanks to the tax cuts. The practical result of lowering taxes was to free Israel’s wealthiest sector from the burden of funding the consequences of the Intifada. Not only was this group not bearing the burden, it even received a gift that sweetened the bitter pill of the Second Intifada for them – and for them only. One should add that the wealthy were barely affected by the cutbacks in social services, as they could pay privately for these, now even more easily thanks to significantly reduced taxes. Access to these private services created a barrier between those who could afford to pay for them and those who could not. Thus, the budget cuts gave rise to quasi – private subsystems, such as schools and health clinics based on private funding.7 Each MMEP (later ICAN) center experienced locally the impact of these global and political events. Consider this example from the Community Service Center in Nablus: One of the clients, Leila Um Ahmad was volunteering that day in the center and spoke with the monitor. She was approached by the current director after an Israeli incursion that nearly destroyed her house. They found funds to rebuild her house. As a single mother, she is able to benefit under the orphans program. Her daughter was supported to attend university and one of her children is supported by the community (her youngest son has cancer). She is

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covered medically because she is a welfare recipient of the Ministry of Social Affairs. The center visits her in her home and the volunteer who works with her, Amir, is like a sister to her (the woman cried as she stated this and the efforts of the center in helping her). She has had a hard life but receives the support she needs to see her through. The woman attests to feeling stronger now and more able to cope with the multiple needs of her family. She wants to give back to the center and so offers to clean as a volunteer.8 And consider this situation in East Jerusalem brought to the Al-Quds Community Action Center: One person stated that before coming to the center he was unaware of his rights and entitlements. This man and his family have multiple problems related to residency in occupied East Jerusalem. Taxes had doubled and he could not afford the payments. His house was seized and both he and his wife were brought to the police station. He was assisted by the center’s legal services and, following a court judgement, taxes were lowered substantially according to their ability to pay. However, the man has not received wages for some time. He must attend training sessions and be available for work according to the Wisconsin plan to receive welfare although his wife is blind, following the onset of diabetes after a son was killed in 1990. His wife must also attend work or training although on a reduced scale. She cannot stay alone in the house to care for her 7 and 12-year-old children. She had recently nearly burnt the house down while he was attending one of the training sessions imposed by the Wisconsin program. He was cut from his benefits after having to attend to his wife. Many letters were sent until the issues were resolved.9 Or in Israel, where draconian cuts made it impossible for disabled children to receive the assistance they require to attend school. Consider this recollection from a woman at first despairing about her daughter and ultimately becoming Chairperson of the Board of Community Advocacy Beersheba: After years of hard and aggravating struggles against the Education Ministry in order to ensure that they act to create fitting educational programs for my daughter, I came to a high degree of despair, hopelessness and lack of confidence in the systems surrounding me. When Community Advocacy came to me, I was at the point where I wouldn’t agree to open the door to any organization. But something in their attitude convinced me to open the door nonetheless. The door opened a new full, world to me. A world of rights, a world of knowledge, a world of learning, doing and changing in the community. Due to my connection with Community Advocacy, I managed eventually to influence the Ministry of Education and actualize my daughter’s right to education. That experience and my connection with Community Advocacy gave me my confidence back. At first, I didn’t believe there could be such a place that could help people act to actualize their rights. Today I believe it

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And in Jordan, where residents faced increasingly complex situations as a result of debts. The woman had received a loan and been told that repayment was monthly. What she did not know was that the repayment date monthly was on the 23rd day and there was a 75 JD penalty for late payments. The loan program sent an officer to her house to collect the 75 JD and wanted anything in the house that was worth that amount. She was referred to the center and advised not to pay – the center found means through another organization to pay off the loan. This woman had borrowed the money to pay back-rent. She has three handicapped children amongst four. Her husband, who was abusive, had a stroke and was unable to work so the family was unable to meet their basic needs. She joined the VAW (Violence Against Women service) which introduced her to lawyers, where she learned about her rights. The husband no longer abuses her.11 *** With the CIDA extension grant, we were poised to launch three new Canadianfunded centers – one a mobile unit to reach isolated villages surrounding Nablus; another in East Jerusalem to serve the increasingly geographically fragmented Palestinian community; and a third in a diverse ethnic community with a high refugee population in East Amman. In parallel, Community Advocacy secured major funding from the New York Jewish Federation and in 2007 opened a storefront center in the diverse city of Lod. Merav Moshe, our regional coordinator and senior lecturer in the Social Work and Public Policy departments at Sapir Academic College, would establish her first of several centers in southern communities near the Gaza border. We planned to forge ahead with our cross-border partnerships wherever possible. Our groundbreaking meetings in Istanbul with 100 Israeli, Jordanian, and Palestinian center participants were a historic basis for further alliances promoting equal rights in the region. The common stand our centers in East and West Jerusalem took to combat cuts in welfare and the tightening of eligibility and our role in the simultaneous admission of Mogen David Adom and the Palestinian Red Crescent into the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent forged common cause against an uncertain future. From the onset, we were concerned about sustainability. The CIDA expansion funding was for only two years – undoubtedly insufficient time to plan, reach out, establish, and sustain new centers. Moreover, we were required to draw money from our networking, research, and regional programming budgets to fulfill CIDA requirements. We had no assurances of future Canadian funding, but since CIDA initiated the expansion request and understood and appreciated our efforts, we believed that CIDA would support continued funding.

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*** No one, however, anticipated the U.S.-led financial crisis a year later in 2008, the global recession, and how these events would impact the availability of governments’ international aid packages and private philanthropic dollars. Reduced foreign investment, trade, and remittances impacted the economies of the world’s poorest countries and manifested in growing budget and trade deficits, currency devaluations, higher rates of inflation, increasing public debt, and dwindling currency reserves. “Major donors’ aid to developing countries fell by nearly 3 percent in 2011. Continuing tight budgets in OECD countries will put pressure on aid levels in coming years.”12 The Chronicle of Philanthropy confirmed that charitable giving fell drastically in the U.S. Giving by people with incomes of $200,000 or more fell by $31-billion from 2007 to 2009. Altogether, the IRS reported that people of every income level wrote off $158 billion in charitable donations in 2009 and $172 billion in 2008.13 The Madoff Ponzi scheme fraud compounded funding difficulties for many organizations. It was first reported that almost $65 billion were missing from client accounts, over two thirds of which were fabricated gains.14 Many charitable foundations, organizations, and philanthropic individuals had either invested directly with Madoff or through one of his feeder funds. A significant number of them provided important support for Israeli organizations, and among them were very important funders of progressive organizations in Israel such as Community Advocacy. *** Political changes in Canada were also cause for concern. Scandals rocked the Liberal party and shifted voter preferences to the right. In February 2006, Canada elected a minority government led by the Conservative Steven Harper. Harper would be reelected to win a second minority government mandate in 2008 and a majority government in 2011 – losing to Justin Trudeau in 2015. A Conservative leading a right-wing party centered in Western Canada, Harper made it known during his campaign that he planned to cut the number of countries assisted by Canada, the kinds of aid given, and the purposes of the aid, which would prioritize “private-public partnerships involving the business community.” This conservative ideology would prohibit funding for “advocacy” or, for example, health clinics for women, which provided family-planning services in Africa. We lost access to Ottawa decision makers we could count on. With each Liberal government, we found champions who supported us. We had none in the Conservative party, as the party itself had undergone an internal revolution between the “Red Tory conservatives” and the more right-wing caucus which Stephen Harper represented. The center of power had moved to the right and to the west – while facing south.

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Canadian foreign policy toward the Israeli-Palestinian conflict shifted dramatically under Prime Minister Harper. Canada had achieved a good name in the region through a foreign policy perceived as fair to both sides while committed to a two-state solution. Under Harper, Canadian policy, supported by Evangelicals and Conservatives and determined to make inroads in the Jewish community, which overwhelmingly preferred the Liberals, became markedly more one-sided. Canada would become increasingly viewed as having abandoned its traditional honest broker role in favor of pro-Israeli and anti-Palestinian policies, undermining the credibility of Canadian diplomats as fair and helpful to both sides. Our approach resonated well with traditional Canadian values but not at all with a Harper-led government. We were secure for the next several years, but the entire constellation – globally, in Canada, and in each country we worked in – was in flux and uncertain. We entered this extension phase energized by new possibilities but understood it would take a heavy lift, and we were uncertain if we could count on the Canadian government to have our back while we forged ahead. Compounding the road ahead was the departure of senior members of our program staff, who provided immeasurable assistance to these centers and the success they became. Nicky Aumond – instrumental in launching and managing the program since its inception; Communications Director Lisa Van Dusen, who developed our first overall communications strategy, connected us to important media, and sharpened our communiques and newsletters; and Jim Olwell left. Each for different reasons: Jim’s two- year secondment from the CLSC had ended, Nicky wanted to devote more time to other professional activities, and Lisa moved up to become Director of Media Relations for the entire McGill University before returning to journalism to cover the 2008 U.S. election and Barack Obama’s first term in Washington as Bureau Chief for Sun Media. All three remained close friends of the program and assisted us whenever possible. Losing this uniquely capable senior management team left a void of the expertise and experience within the organization that I could rely on. I had to move forward without the depth we had acquired. Sami left the center in Nablus to study for his PhD We had no worries about center continuity as it was fully integrated into An Najah University and directed by Bilal Salameh (2000–02 cohort). Sami pursued his PhD at McGill, and I had the gratifying role of his supervisor. Sami helped fill our void with inspiration, knowledge, and skills and became an integral part of the team while in Montreal. Without his wife and kids for three years, Sami broadcasted and hosted a weekly radio show in Palestine via internet from a small office we provided, which also gave him ongoing contact with his family. Sami completed his PhD in a record three years. He examined rights-based practice and the work of the center in Nablus in his thesis and was the winner of the School of Social Work PhD prize. Jean Panet Raymond took charge of the field experiences and ran the narrative exchange–peace-building sessions. Formerly Director of the School of Social Work at the Université de Montréal, often referred to as my Francophone counterpart with degrees in social work and law, Jean is a major force in rightsbased work in the city, provincially and nationally. Jean took early retirement from

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academia to return to active practice, working with a housing rights organization. Jean had visited and lectured with all our partners as a scholar in residence. The paradoxical qualities of a Francophone leading peace-building sessions among Israelis, Palestinians, and Jordanians at an English-speaking university illustrates the creative possibilities that emerge from inclusive, value-based strategies.

Moving forward In Jordan Between 2003 and 2008 the Community Development Center in Sweileh directly assisted 82,200 residents. The significant policy changes achieved whereby noncustodial parents meet their children at the center rather than exclusively at police stations grew: “As of 2010, over 3,252 children and youth were reached, including accompanying children of 1,634 parents via 136 family visitation days”.15 In Jordan, severe understaffing and budget crunches result in most children only being educated for a half-day. They are often unsupervised in the remaining time and have no opportunity for further learning. The center responded with several programs: The Children’s rights program heightens their self-awareness, equips them with skills to cope with trauma and helps express their needs. This takes the form of weekly educational and recreational activities for local children from single parent or disadvantaged families. The children’s after-school program works with youth age 7–18 years old. In 2012, 519 children benefitted from the educational programs, awareness courses, and recreational activities.16 Through Talal Qdah’s concerted eforts, the Jordanian Social Development Ministry is now required to conduct field visits before making decisions on social assistance applications, as many people were refused based solely on their written application. The empowerment of women as a direct application of rights-based practice found expression at the center on multiple levels. It is worth mentioning that many of the women empowered by the Sweileh CDC have presented themselves as candidates for municipal elections. Other women have engaged with local officials so that they become accountable to the female electorate. The women I met all said approximately the same thing: the center taught me courage, they all taught us to be courageous.17 A groundbreaking innovation of the Sweileh Center in combatting violence against women was reported by The Jordan Times: ‘Men on board’ project educates men on women’s rights in Islam By Linda Hindi – AMMAN –

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“Empowering women and stopping violence against them in a patriarchal society is no easy feat, but a social center has found convincing allies: local male leaders. The center’s pilot project, “Men on Board”, has been working over the past two months to directly educate men on women’s rights. Workers at the Community Development Centre (CDC) in Sweileh label the new approach “a huge success”. The center came up with the idea of targeting men after female members, who had completed a one-year awareness project on violence against women, suggested that the center do something specifically for their husbands. A program development officer at the center, Ruweida Shakhshir, explained that the program is unique because incorporating men into gender-based violence projects is not uncommon, but to have an optional program only for men poses the biggest challenge, “to actually get the men to attend”. That’s where the community’s male leader, or mukhtar, came in, inviting the neighborhood men for sessions at his home. “I knew that this would work because when the mukhtar invites you to his home you do not say ‘no’,” the social worker added. A mukhtar, “the chosen” in Arabic, refers to a figure in a village or urban neighborhood who serves as a local community leader with some administrative authorities and reports to the governor’s office. The mukhtar’s wife initially offered her home for the meetings, saying that she would have her husband invite the men, Shakhshir said. The meetings are held in a relaxed atmosphere and refreshments are served. The goal is to make men listen and, in particular, learn about women’s rights in Islam. Giving the lessons is Sheikh Bassam Qawasmi, a cleric who has earned the trust of the women in the community after volunteering at the center for several years, offering women a one-hour lecture four times a month on their rights in society and Islam. “He has women who are devoted to his lectures and his information has changed some women’s lives. One very poor woman found out that she was entitled to her inheritance in Islam and contested her brothers in court.” As a result, she won half a dunum of land, which she sold and used to start an income-generating project that earns her JD500 a month, Shakhshir said. Sheikh Qawasmi, who has a BA in fiqh (Islamic jurisprudence), told The Jordan Times that he is able to influence the men because he sits with them on their terms and cites the Holy Koran and hadith (Prophet’s tradition) to support his arguments. “I am happy that I am dealing directly with the very group that have tough personalities and zero value for women. This is changing, he continued. He stays calm and attacks their theories about respect, polygamy, equality and violence with clear Koranic verses and in-depth stories about the Prophet Mohammad and how he treated women in the highest regard. “Most of the men are subdued and cannot retort when they hear that respecting their wives is a religious obligation. It affects them because they are not listening to something that I have made up; it is commandments from Allah, their God,” he said. Her Majesty Queen Rania visited the CDC on Sunday and said that more projects like these should be duplicated throughout the Kingdom. “Violence against

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women is a sensitive subject that we must concentrate on and diminish from our society. It is very unfortunate that sometimes Islam is distorted or confused and used as an excuse to do wrong,” Queen Rania said. The CDC is one of the six centers in the region run under the McGill University in Montreal, Canada. McGill’s programs are primarily funded by the Canadian International Development Agency. The “Men on Board” project has been funded by the Washington-based Freedom House, a pro-democracy nonprofit organization with international reach. The center is closely affiliated with the University of Jordan and works in partnership with the Jordan Red Crescent Society and the Jordanian Hashemite Fund for Human Development. It currently runs 12 community development programs which directly affect between 15,000 to 20,000 underprivileged residents of the area annually.”18 *** In 2008, with the return of Haya Al-Hadid and Arda Dergarabidian from their year at McGill as part of the sixth cohort of ICAN MSW fellows, work began in earnest to establish a second center in East Amman, which would be accountable to the Jordan Red Crescent. In a move toward further autonomy, the new center incorporated as an independent NGO in 2011 under the name Waqa (which translates as both “cradle” and “rampart”) for Community Development. The center staff searched out several neighborhoods and chose Ashrafieh because of its high levels of poverty, population density (250,000 inhabitants in 5.2 sq. km) and, most importantly – its diversity. Ashrafieh, located in proximity to the Jordan Red Crescent, is home to Christians, Muslims, Armenians, Circassians, Iraqis, Syrians, Egyptians, Palestinians, and native Jordanians. This diversity was of central importance to us as we sought out ideas and issues that would bring people together. To begin their work, the staff recruited a steering committee representing the community’s diversity and began to identify common concerns. After building relationships with local community organizations, citizens and local governments, the center lobbied for action to clean up local parks, streets and to reclaim areas that were previously unsafe for community members. To mobilize officials, the group presented them with news articles that catalogued public malfeasance, drug issues and violence in the neighborhood, showing an overall rise in crime. The committee started an awareness campaign and petition to open the roads in the public square to cars, in an effort to increase traffic and bring people back (businesses had been shuttered since the square closed to cars and drug dealers and users became the prime ‘tenants’). Simultaneously, women and kids volunteered for clean-up efforts targeting areas around the square, which had become illegal dumping areas. When the petition drive had 1600 signatures collected, local lawmakers and police started to pay attention. Officials toured the area to assess the problem. To maintain momentum, the center initiated the “Open Futures” program to keep the area clean. Successes have included the demolition of

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From the outset, the clear message was to promote solidarity and find strength in diversity. The “Our Neighbours Are Our Family Project” represents a parallel approach: To build good relationships among neighbours in order to enhance mutual understanding and decrease conflicts. During monthly meetings in various neighbourhoods in the area, we provide the space for neighbours to meet in a friendly manner and discuss issues of common interest to them, sometimes trying to solve a problem or a conflict between neighbours. The meetings create a positive atmosphere in the neighbourhoods and increase traffic to the center from all religious denominations.20 Further community ownership took place when “Two groups of high school students from Amman Academy, with 20 student participants, undertook renovations inside the center, preparing play areas for children, arranging entrances for the handicapped, and preparing a recreational activities room.”21 In 2009, the center responded to 5,768 beneficiaries. The staff and community steering committee initiated rights-based educational programs with lawyers who covered topics such as the importance of registering their homes with the municipality and “tenants know their rights” under the new landlord -tenant legislation. Economic rights are addressed through income generation initiatives for women and individual advocacy for women, especially divorced or separated women, needing social assistance to support their households. The center supports access to health – especially for the elderly – and provides blood pressure clinics, donated prescription medicine through a volunteer pharmacist, and cancer awareness seminars.22 Altogether, the Waqa center assisted 29,000 people at its storefront during the years 2008–12. Overall, the two Jordanian centers assisted 112,000 neighborhood residents through its storefronts. Given a conservative estimate of four to five people per family, our rights-based practice in Jordan directly impacted on more than a half million Jordanians during this five-year period. In Israel Community Advocacy Lod Community Advocacy secured funding from the New York Jewish Federation and in 2007 opened a storefront center in the city of Lod. Once an Arab city along the caravan route from Jaffa to Jerusalem, Lod is located a few kilometers from the

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national airport and 15 minutes or so from Tel Aviv. Lod’s population of 75,000 has high poverty rates among a diversity of communities – including a 30 per cent Arab population – and a majority population of Jews consisting largely of nativeborn Israelis and Ethiopian and Russian immigrants. The biblical city of Lod was a significant Judean town from Maccabean times to the early Christian period. In the New Testament, the town appears in its Greek form, Lydda, as the site of Peter’s healing of a paralytic man in Acts 9:32–8. The city also finds reference in an Islamic Hadith, as the location of the battlefield where the antichrist (Dajjal) will be slain before the Day of Judgment. During the 1948 Arab–Israeli War, most of the city’s Arab inhabitants were expelled or fled following the July 12, 1948 killing of between 250 and 400 Arab residents. The town was resettled by Jewish immigrants, most of them from Arab countries, alongside 1,056 Arabs who remained.23 Between 2007 and 2013, the city of Lod did not have an elected government. Following years of municipal corruption, the Israeli central government appointed bankruptcy managers to stand in as mayors and to attempt a rescue operation. The first two largely failed and “reinforced the image of Lod as a city that is incapable of managing its own affairs.” In 2010 real estate developer David Appel was convicted of giving bribes to advance his real estate projects, and former Lod mayor Benny Regev was convicted of accepting them. The third bankruptcy manager, Meir Nitzan, appointed in 2011, had somewhat greater success. The crime rate dropped, the municipality balanced its budget, and a democratically elected municipal government returned in 2013. The diverse city was and remains one of the few mixed Arab-Jewish cities in Israel. The Arab population is about 30 per cent and comprises families who lived in Lod prior to 1948, Bedouin families from the South who migrated to Lod in the 1970s and 80s, Jordanians and Palestinians married to Israeli citizens, and Palestinians who cooperated with Israel and were resettled in Lod. The Jewish immigrants who settled Lod came in waves, first from Uzbekistan, India, Morocco, and Tunisia, later from Ethiopia and from the former Soviet Union. More recently, there has been an influx of members of the nationalist religious movement Garin Hatorani, as well as refugees, primarily from the Sudan and Eritrea. Community Advocacy opened a storefront in the Ramat Eshkol neighborhood in the northern part of Lod. About 5,000 people live in the neighborhood – 70 per cent are Arab, 20 per cent are Ethiopian Jews, and 10 per cent are mainly Uzbeki and Indian Jewish immigrants. The Ramat Eshkol neighborhood was one of many that experienced a loss of Jewish population during the years of municipal bankruptcy. At the end of 2007, Community Advocacy opened its office across the street from the Chicago Community Center and began doing outreach in the neighborhood. Funded by the Jewish community of Chicago, the center was shuttered, and there was no other community facility in the neighborhood. Community Advocacy staff learned that many apartments had been sold to Ethiopian immigrants by unscrupulous real estate agents at high prices, and the families were saddled with mortgages they could hardly afford. Most of the buildings were rundown;

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many had ruptured sewer pipes. Piles of uncollected garbage and littered streets were hazards to the populace. Most residents were low-income, and a high percentage was unemployed. Organizers estimated that 90 per cent were known to the welfare department. People from the different communities were polite with each other when they casually interacted in the streets and collaborated as neighbors in common stairwells. Suspicion, mistrust, and racism among them was rampant, however, and there was not a single forum that brought this diversity together to address common concerns. More often than not, community residents were preoccupied with their personal and their own community’s concerns rather than holistically as one neighborhood. Door-to-door outreach identified scores of common issues – accessing entitlements, the municipal neglect of water and sewer pipes, streets, and safety. While crime and drug abuse were common, a “police station point” located adjacent to the shuttered Chicago community center was also closed. This neglected neighborhood, tucked into a corner near the Lod open market, felt closed from the rest of the city and unprotected, and this also characterized how neighbors from different ethnic groups felt about each other. Moreover, the staff noted at the time that “powerful forces” from outside the neighborhood were seeking to keep the community divided, passing the word that “the other” was not to be trusted.24 The City of Lod and the Ramat Eshkol neighborhood in particular was disentitled, disrespected, and disorganized. In an effort to visibly represent an alternative reality – one where Arabs and Jews of all backgrounds could find common cause – Community Advocacy sought diversity among its staff, clientele, volunteers, and the issues it selected. This was not an easy task. The pay wasn’t great, and people from different cultures looked at and did things differently. Trust and understanding had to be developed in the context of scarce resources. Lacking a long-term funding base, the center faced staff turnover, and critical life events prevented neighborhood volunteers from sustaining their efforts without remuneration. The idea of achieving diversity within organizations – in its clientele, volunteers, students, staff, and board of directors – is less a matter of attaining quotas and more one of adapting and responding to a complex, rapidly changing environment where the fragile status and therefore the reserves of all the players involved constrain what is possible. The vision of inclusivity is a guiding principle in rightsbased practice, although it may often remain aspirational in a day-to-day context. In its first year, Community Advocacy Lod recruited a core group of volunteers from the diverse communities and provided hands-on training and a volunteer course. Together, primarily through outreach, they assisted 1,500 people to become aware of and access national insurance, public housing, employment, and other entitlements. Each year, the center recruited and trained new volunteers for the storefront and for other community activities. Volunteers from different communities in the neighborhood and from elsewhere in Lod and other communities assisted in the storefront. The storefront clientele was mostly from the neighborhood, Arabs, Jews of Ethiopian origin,

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and elderly Israeli-born residents, although Arab clients from other parts of Lod arrived as well. Community work students in field placements from social work schools (Hebrew University, Ben-Gurion, Tel Aviv, Ashkelon) often joined center staff in recruiting and conducting training workshops, while also working in the storefront and initiating community-based projects. Organizing efforts were two-pronged. One direction focused on issues that benefited all residents such as the opening of the Chicago Community Center, more police patrols, street and sewer repairs, and launching a community food co-op in the disadvantaged Banit neighborhood. Other issues primarily concerned the rights of particular groups – such as exploitation of women of Ethiopian origin in the workplace, the failure of education authorities to consult with parents of children of Ethiopian background regarding placement in special education classes, the lack of preschools serving the Arab community, and refusal of authorities to register children. Focusing on equal rights for all children to attend school, Community Advocacy Lod successfully lobbied for the opening of eight preschools serving the Arab community as well as for the implementation in Lod of the special order that expanded mandatory education to all children aged three through five.25 Five Ethiopian women formed a group and, over the course of eight meetings, discussed exploitation they faced at work – layoffs, maternity leave, and the denial of benefits. They stated that no one speaks up and no one really knows what their rights are. Instead “people work and suffer quietly. They prefer to work at any cost – especially as they do not know what their rights are.”26 The group met with a lawyer, who explained their rights under Israeli labor laws and how to actualize them. The discussions were held in Amharic and attended by 15 Ethiopians. Knowledge of and advocating for worker’s rights became integrated into the vocabulary of all storefront volunteers. On a broader community level, the Lod annual report found that, by the end of 2010, there has been improvements in many of the physical aspects of the neighborhood – repaired roads and sidewalks, additional traffic signs, street lighting, garbage collection, and sewer pipe repairs as well as an increase in police patrols and public safety.27 Community Advocacy Lod, together with other organizations, pressured to reopen the Chicago community center, which had been abandoned for several years and was in disrepair. By the end of 2010, the repairs were completed, and the building was open for a few activities. Community Advocacy pushed on: that the center be open full time and have a community board with professional staff. The Lod municipality was not interested in a community board prior to municipal elections and didn’t want to pay fees to the national association of community centers to manage Chicago for them. Finally, the municipality hired

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a temporary director who brought in mother and child programs for the Arab community and preschool activities for Ethiopian children. Community Advocacy organized veteran Israeli seniors who were evicted from their club as the room they occupied was taken over by the national religious “garin hatorani” who transformed it into child-care for their children and received space in Chicago. These seniors organized a vernissage of their work with the common theme of Lod’s history and were visited by hundreds of people. By the end of 2012, the municipality of Lod had not contracted for the management of the center. Chicago was deteriorating: “Municipal neglect, lack of security, cleaning, and a management board. The National Association of Community Center has refused to enter the premises until these issues are fixed.”28 On July 5, 2012 Eddie Gedaloff – Director of Community Advocacy Lod – and members of the Chicago coalition met with the mayor, who refused to invest the necessary resources required for the National Association of Community Centers to run it. Discussions were underway with The Jewish Agency and the Working Youth movement for management. Community Advocacy Lod opened a food co-op in 2009 based on the CA Jerusalem model by bringing prices down when diverse groups work together. By the end of 2010, 95 families had joined the co-op – attaining on average a 15 per cent reduction in food costs. By the end of 2012, about a dozen local volunteers at Community Advocacy Lod were assisting about 300 people a month. The storefront was open four days a week, and some 20 volunteers were taking the rights-based training courses. Overall, Community Advocacy Lod was steadily ploughing rocky soil. Community Advocacy nationally, however, was on shaky grounds. Unable to sustain its budget and find new funders, the organization steadily eroded. In 2012, Community Advocacy closed its Jerusalem branch, and in early 2013 it shuttered its two co-ops in Jerusalem. Unable to sustain its budget and find new funders, the organization steadily shed staff and centers. Sapir academic college and opening rights-based centers in towns along the Gaza border Merav Moshe, senior lecturer in the departments of social work and public policy at Sapir Academic College, spearheaded the drive to bring rights-based practice to the impoverished towns close to the Gaza border and to initiate affiliated centers that would bring the community into the College as well. Sapir College is in the northwestern Negev Desert. It is the largest public college in Israel, with an enrolment of 8,000 students. The communities of Sha’ar HaNegev Regional Council established the college in 1963 as an evening school for adult higher education. It later became an Academic College affiliated with Ben-Gurion University of the Negev. Sapir was granted independent academic accreditation from the Council for Higher Education in 1998. The college is wellregarded for its undergraduate and graduate degree programs in communication, cinema and television, software systems, law, and social work among others.

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The Western Negev region is economically depressed with high poverty and unemployment rates. Sderot, the city adjacent to Sapir Academic College, had a population of 26,455 in 2018. Sderot is located less than a mile from Gaza and has been a major target of rocket attacks. Between 2001 and 2008, rocket attacks on the city killed 13 people, wounded dozens, and profoundly disrupted daily life. During the Gaza War in December 2008 and January 2009, between 50 and 60 rockets were fired at Sderot per week, causing about half the city’s residents to temporarily evacuate. According to a study carried out at Sapir Academic College in 2007, some 75 per cent of residents aged 4–18 were suffering from PTSD, including sleeping disorders and severe anxiety, in the wake of rocket attacks on the city, and 1,000 residents were receiving psychiatric treatment at the community mental health center.29 In January 2008, British journalist Seth Freedman of The Guardian described Sderot as a city of near-deserted streets and empty malls and cafes. In March 2008, the mayor said that the population had dropped by 10–15 per cent, while aid organizations said the figure was closer to 25 per cent. Many of the families that remained were those who could not afford to move out or were unable to sell their homes. The 2008 war ended regular rocket fire from Gaza, and by 2009, demand for apartments was outweighing supply.30 Sderot was founded in 1951 as a transit camp called Gabim Dorot for 80 Israeli immigrant families, primarily from Kurdistan and Iran.31 From the mid-1950s, Moroccan, Romanian, and Kurdish Jewish immigrants settled there. In 1956, Sderot was recognized as a local council. In the 1961 census, the percentage of North African immigrants, mostly from Morocco, was 87 per cent; and 11 per cent were from Kurdistan.32 Sderot absorbed another large wave of immigrants from the former Soviet Union during the 1990s, doubling its population. In 1996, it was declared a city. In September 2008, Sapir Academic College formally joined the McGill network and authorized during the 2008–2009 academic year that students from the Social Work department and Public Policy and Administration department will be working together with Dr. Merav Moshe Grodofsky to create the necessary framework for the establishment of the rights-based practice center in Sderot.33 The backing of Sapir Academic College recognized the importance and value of this academic–community partnership by integrating it into Merav’s academic responsibilities and even putting their own money into it. In 2008, Professor Zeev Tsahor, the president of Sapir College, allocated 50.000 shekels to launch it. Two years later, Professor Jimmy Weinblatt – having attained mandatory retirement age at Ben Gurion University – succeeded Zeev as President of Sapir, and he allocated an additional 60.000 shekels to establish the center. Merav knew Sderot. She walked the streets together with her students, conducting door-knocking at resident apartments to learn about the issues that concerned

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them, to determine the need for rights-based practice in the community, and to identify potential community leaders. Over a two-year period, they collected the residents’ stories: Stories of immigration and settlement in the newly established Sderot; stories of a once thriving community that had lost its way and stories of friendships with Palestinian neighbors in Gaza that they could no longer see. Public housing tenants displayed musty rooms filled with mildew and uprooted backyard tiles caused by plumbing problems that the public housing authority refused to repair. Immigrants from Kazakhstan, barely able to speak a word of Hebrew, showed their water-stained ceiling that dripped every winter and that they repaired every summer because the apartment owner from upstairs, who lived in Ashdod, rented to some twenty illegal workers from Eritrea – too many for the poor plumbing system in the building. Youth, who had not attended public school for years, and who had no contact with any formal service in the city, were discovered in their homes.34 Merav took students into these neighborhoods in 2008 and, under her guidance and with a clear commitment to rights-based practice, the students assisted the residents to contact appropriate institutions. “They wrote letters, made phone calls, and scheduled home visits with relevant professionals. Individual situations were attended to, in many cases for the first time.” Two years later, during a routine door-knocking afternoon, Merav and her students identified a block of semi-connected apartments where all of the tenants spoke of the same issue. Approaching the block complex, it was hard to miss-the smell of sewage in the hot summer air was sickening. A closer look revealed that the sewage was open and running. Apartment tenants revealed that in building the government mandated bomb-protection room onto the existing apartments, the contractor had mistakenly pulled up the sewage system.35 Merav invited the tenants to a meeting to consider what could be done. She described this encounter as follows: Without a central meeting place, I invited the tenants to meet outside the buildings the following week. Sure enough, the following week the tenants brought chairs and couches from their apartments and in a circle next to the open sewage sat for the first of many discussions that would ultimately lead to sewage repair, new sidewalks and the enlistment of the first group of volunteers and community activists who would be critical in establishing the Sderot Rights-based Community Practice Center, what they would eventually name Mezach-The Center for Social Rights.36 Committed to empowering local residents to know their rights and advocate for themselves, Merav recruited 25 residents to enroll in a 13-session training

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program to become the first cadre of Mezach volunteers. In a unique way, Merav invited the community into Sapir Academic College – situated on the other side of a major boulevard separating the city of Sderot from the campus. Despite this proximity, it was for many the first time that they entered the gates of the academic institution. The “Rights Course for Volunteers” was launched with an opening ceremony attended by the college president, professors, and the mayor of Sderot. The course focused on necessary understanding of rights and regulations and developing the skills to pursue them. Merav opened with a session about our rights-based practice model and its application to Sderot. She reviewed what she had learned from her experience in Sderot and welcomed the volunteers as founding members. Sessions were given by Sapir faculty members in social work, law, public administration, and counseling as well as from community members. Topics included interviewing and communication skills, laws relating to national insurance, unemployment, seizures, compensation for victims of terror, support payments, and techniques and principles of outreach, advocacy, and organizing for policy change. Upon completion of the course, the volunteers received a certificate from Sapir College – granted by the college president. This process became Merav’s method. With returning fellow Amit Kitain (2015) she took the same methodology to the border town of Ofakim and then to Beersheva and, most recently, to the Bedouin city of Rahat (2019). Merav describes her methodology as follows: The first step for developing the center includes a community social mapping, with the help of students from Sapir College. The students are trained to go door to door, to become acquainted with the people, to learn about the difficulties and issues that they face in relation to their ability to access rights, and to include them in the process of developing the center. In parallel, a steering committee is formed, consisting of academics and residents of the city from a variety of professions to support the students work, and the development of the center in general. During the mapping process, potential local leaders are identified. After forming a group of 20 leaders, the group is trained in an academic course in topics relevant to establishing and operating the emerging center. Sapir College faculty share their knowledge and expertise with the group of leaders throughout the semester long course. The group learns how to run a “rights center”, in order to help others in their community to advocate for and access their rights. They also learn how to deal with government institutions, and how to work together to access their rights. From this process, common issues emerge enabling the development of a community process. By the end of this stage, community residents will be ready to establish the rights-based community practice center together with the professional staff. Since first reaching out to Sderot residents in 2008, by 2013 Merav, Amit, and their students advanced the social rights of over 2,000 Sderot residents through individual and community services promoted primarily by community volunteers

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trained in the rights-based community practice model. Since 2013, the center volunteers at each of the four centers assist over 500 families each year. Two out of every three issues volunteers faced in each city concerned national insurance (welfare), housing, debts, and court judgements. Mezach brought about important changes for the residents of these border towns isolated from the rest of the country – out of sight and out of mind except for terrorist attack coverage. During these times, national government leaders and high-ranking public officials appear in Sderot, declare their solidarity with its people, and make promises that remain unfulfilled or poorly carried out, as with the construction of bomb shelters in Sderot, which ruptured sewer pipes, leaving a dangerously unhealthy stench permeating the neighborhood. Mezach staff and volunteers advocated for over 100 residents and got the pipes and roadwork repaired. Working with Holocaust survivors and Russian war veterans, Mezach successfully petitioned the Ministry of Housing to adapt public housing to the needs of the elderly. After five years of campaigning, Mezach succeeded in having the Israeli National Insurance Institute change its regulations to enable citizens who suffer from trauma and post-trauma to become eligible for entitlements. Israel passed legislation compensating victims of terror attacks, yet many in Sderot and other border towns who suffered directly did not have accessible information as to what was available or how to apply. Through Mezach’s advocacy, the government now clearly publishes eligibility criteria and online applications. Sderot’s poor public transportation causes long waits for busses, which came infrequently and followed routes which took far too long. As a result of Mezach’s organizing work, eight buses were added to the fleet serving Sderot, two new bus lines were installed, and planning is underway to link Sderot by bus and train to Israeli centers. Mezach was the winner of the President of Israel’s Volunteerism Award in 2017. In 2018, Mezach was recognized by the Israeli newspaper Yediot Aharonot as one of 17 most successful social campaigns in the fields of public housing, public transportation, and mental health. In 2019, Sapir College won the Excellence Award for Social Involvement of colleges and universities by the Council of Higher Education. Al-Quds community action center and the emergence of the Jerusalem community action network In 2008, Al-Quds University decided to go it alone. Their contribution to the extension phase would be the establishment of a volunteer bureau organized by Tareq Hardan, who had returned from his year at McGill. Al-Quds President Sari Nusseibeh is a well-known academic and political intellect. Although entirely committed to the Community Action Center, he wanted his own people to run it. With the absence of an involved senior administration and the departure of Varsen Aghabekian from Al-Quds but not from the center, relationships became frayed. Sari sought to impose a new staff position to be filled by a close

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acquaintance. When this was rebuffed, the same person opened his own storefront using the name of the Al-Quds Community Action Center. The Final Evaluation described it this way: The departure of Al-Quds University from the network appeared to be due, in part, to the limited direct involvement of university authorities in the network over time due to changes in senior offices. Subsequently, the pressure exerted by the MMEP network on the issue of new personnel assigned to open another practice center using the same name as CAC but without RBCP experience, was interpreted as undue interference and restrictions on the university’s autonomy by McGill. Admittedly, there is a delicate balance that needs to be struck regarding the terms of membership in a network and university culture may require a particular approach to ensure active engagement of the appropriate university officials in the network meetings.37 The Al-Quds Community Action Center continues primarily as a legal clinic and is directed by Munir Nusseibeh – the nephew of Al-Quds President Sari Nusseibeh. Najwa Silwadi and Varsen Aghabekian – who left Al-Quds to assume work with the Welfare Association and later on with the president’s office of the Palestinian Authority – networked with Ahmad Ruweide, a lawyer who was the head of the Jerusalem unit at the President’s office at the time to plan a network of centers in East Jerusalem to protect and advance the rights of Palestinian Jerusalemites. Varsen and Ahmed made strategic advances with British Foreign Affairs to support the planned new centers. A new NGO was incorporated as “The Jerusalem Community Action Network” (JCAN). Remaining funds from the last CIDA budget stayed at Al-Quds, while the funds to establish a new center in East Jerusalem were transferred to JCAN. JCAN opened two centers In East Jerusalem – both outside of the old city. AtTur (“The Mount” in Arabic) is an Arab majority neighborhood on the Mount of Olives approximately one km east of the Old City of Jerusalem that has been effectively annexed by Israel since the Six-Day War in 1967. It has a population of 18,150 with notable Palestinian institutions including the Augusta Victoria Hospital and the 250-bed Al-Makassed Islamic Charitable Hospital. The Chapel of the Ascension, consisting first of a Christian church and monastery, then an Islamic mosque, is in At-Tur on a site that Christians traditionally believe to be the spot where Jesus ascended into Heaven 40 days after his resurrection. The original campus of the Hebrew University was built on Mount Scopus – near At-Tur and the Mount of Olives. The site remained in Israeli territory following the 1948 war while surrounded by Palestinian Jerusalem and was ultimately taken over by Jordanian forces. In 1967, Israel wrested control from Jordan and rebuilt the Hebrew University and a branch of Hadassah hospital on Mount Scopus. Jewish Israelis had been buying properties in At-Tur and were resettling the Mount of Olives at a growing rate. The Mount of Olives is also the site of a major, ancient Jewish cemetery, which was devastated between 1948 and 1967. In 2009,

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the center opened in the hub of this neighborhood and at the junction of major bus lines. A second center was opened in Sur Baher in 2010 – a Palestinian neighborhood on the southeastern outskirts of East Jerusalem to the east of Ramat Rachel and annexed by Israel following the 1967 Six-Day War. Sur Baher had a population of 15,000 in 2006. Israel confiscated land from Sur Baher in order to construct East Talpiot and Har Homa.38 Parts of the village have differing status; some are within the East Jerusalem boundary and some within the West Bank, and a part is outside the boundary but still on the Israeli controlled side of the barrier wall. In May 2007, the Jerusalem municipality built a girl’s school for 800 students and a boy’s school with 700 students in Sur Baher. Children must cross through guarded fences and checkpoints to get to school. I have seen children who live within 200 feet of the school but on the other side of the fence wait patiently for the guards to open the fence gates each morning so that they can attend school and in the afternoon to go home. The centers are at the crux of the conflict, working as a Palestinian organization in East Jerusalem, where Palestinian Authority services are prohibited, but nonetheless able to connect residents with available services, like legal counsel when homes are threatened with demolition or families with eviction.39 JCAN hired a staff lawyer and community organizers and recruited 30 volunteers from the neighborhoods as well as social work and law students from AlQuds Open University, Bir Zeit University, and Al-Quds University. The students conducted community outreach and visited 150 homes, two hospitals and eight clinics in At-Tur and Sur Baher. The lawyer hired was Manar Nijem who incorporated the organization. Manar has remained with JCAN ever since, and after Najwa left to pursue a PhD abroad, Manar assumed the executive directorship and was a fellow in the 2018–20 cohort. They discovered that residents often did not know if Israel or the Palestinian Authority were responsible for a service or which institution provided it, how to approach them, or what their rights were. Most often, East Jerusalemites are ambivalent about interacting with Israeli institutions even to claim rights to which they are entitled and hire private lawyers to represent them who often charge unaffordable fees. Consequently, basic provisions such as healthcare, national insurance, residency status, and employment benefits go unrealized. Unable to access basic services and rights and unable to afford private lawyers to assist them, JCAN responded directly – informing residents about their rights to maternity benefits, childbirth allowances, allowances for children under 18, and paternity leave. A primary issue concerns securing and maintaining residency status. Consider this situation: Muna and her two daughters returned to Jerusalem when she divorced, leaving her husband in Switzerland and reuniting with her family. As she

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attempted to re-establish her life in her native city, Muna was faced with a bevy of Israeli policy decisions that prevented her from receiving government benefits for her children, and even enrolling her youngest daughter, who was born outside of Jerusalem, in public schools. Ministry of Interior officials refused to register Muna’s daughter on her ID card: necessary before the child can receive government services. Moreover, Muna faced obstacles herself and was denied the right to change her marital status to ‘divorced’ which would entitle her to extended child benefits.40 Palestinian residency rights in east Jerusalem remain a source of strife and struggle to this day. Either through restrictive practices such as the ones Muna encountered or through eviction and demolition of Palestinian homes, the rights of Palestinians to live in East Jerusalem remain under siege. In their first eight months, JCAN Legal Clinics interceded in close to 500 files for approximately 300 residents. Among them, JCAN assisted 10 women from At-Tur with legal issues and “as a result of our cooperation and success in helping them with their own problems they started to spread the news about JCAN, leading more and more clients to visit the centers. Our volunteers distributed more than 1450 brochures.” The centers initiated legal awareness sessions during the first year to make women “more cognizant of their rights and focused on the identification of their common legal rights and shared common issues.” A Women’s Empowerment Program helped women negotiate issues of residential rights, the registration of their children’s residency with the Ministry of the Interior, dealing with the Jerusalem municipality, and dealing with problems in collecting Israeli national insurance. JCAN launched Project Hear Our Voices to empower juvenile victims of institutional violence and their families by reaching out to traumatized minors who were arrested. This encompassed an advocacy campaign with 50 news stories and radio spots and the recruitment and training of 12 mothers on the rights of children and what to do and who to contact if their rights are violated. Sur Baher is isolated, cut in half by the separation wall and from central East Jerusalem. In 2011, JCAN collected testimonials and assessments of the community and then successfully advocated for enhanced public transportation services for Sur Baher. In coalition with Community Advocacy in West Jerusalem, JCAN and CAC stopped the Israeli government’s Welfare-to-Work Wisconsin Program, which made it difficult for people unable to work to access welfare benefits. The legislation disproportionately penalized women, the disabled, and religious individuals. Through three years of advocacy, awareness-raising, and legal work, the program was cancelled in 2010. Each year for five years, during the joint campaign, 20,000 families were directly affected by the pilot program, which included East Jerusalemites. Between 2003 and 2012, the Al-Quds Community Action Center and JCAN’s two centers in At-Tur and Sur Bachar impacted 150,000 Palestinian Jerusalemites through its storefronts. The Legal Clinics dealt with approximately 300 cases a

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month. During these years, they mobilized 1,500 volunteers who participated as storefront advisors, in outreach, and in community mobilization efforts. NABLUS An Najah community service center In 2005, CSC began to build “community work units” in villages cut off from Nablus by measures taken by the Israeli military. Teams of local volunteers were organized around community-identified issues, starting with a literacy program for women. The idea of a mobile unit had been germinating since Sami Kilani and Bilal Salameh visited the Community Advocacy Rights Mobile and its outreach to unrecognized Bedouin villages in Israel. The program was furthered by two An-Najah graduates who had carried out their voluntary work at the CSC: The monitor met with two students who had the idea of opening a similar center in a nearby village after their volunteer experience. They were students of social work at the university and received encouragement and support from Sami and Bilal to start their own organization – “Mashareek Society for developing the Al-Reef ”(rural development). They operate in the central village (Aqraba) of a group of 29 villages. They organized a forum where 32 people discussed and decided on activities, and they received support from CSC and ideas on how to implement them. They started focusing on special needs, specifically services for the hearing impaired and have, since they started three months ago, managed to provide approximately 15 clients with hearing aids. Their second activity was to develop literacy classes for the disabled, who were often swept aside by schools and parents. Through networking they were able to provide Braille teaching. The local community supports them financially and the CSC supports them in filling the capacity gap.41 The CSC launched the Mobile Centre in early 2008 with a team of social workers in a truck outfitted with the amenities of an ofce to bring services to isolated residents of villages throughout the Nablus governorate. With a staf of four, the Mobile Centre worked with the local community to get projects of the ground and to coordinate volunteers to serve a population of approximately 8,000 before moving on to another village. During their first year of operation, the mobile unit developed satellite programs in six villages surrounding Nablus.42 In active outreach, the mobile unit completed a needs assessment survey in conjunction with the Aseera Ashamaliya municipality involving the homes of all 10,000 inhabitants. The survey brought to light priority social, economic, educational, health needs and issues. The Mobile Center then brought social workers into communities who met with approximately 500 people and provided sessions on rights and empowerment – targeting the priority issues they identified. Mobile unit staff and scores of volunteers brought support to help children who face violence in their everyday lives. Over five months, they created fun, child- and family-focused events in 10 villages, which were attended by 3,500 people of all ages.

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The mobile truck served as a storefront. During its first year of operation, over 100 people representing more than 600 family members found assistance at “the store in the truck.” Many of the issues concerned health care – be it securing hearing aids or wheelchairs for disabled individuals, obtaining health insurance, accessing health care, or financial support. Public lectures helped to spread the word and to translate needs into rights. These took place in community centers, schools, and through radio and television interviews. In its first year, more than 20 events were held, which attracted 700 people and addressed topics including: Consanguineous Marriages; Adolescent Health; Dealing with Children, Health Education; Domestic Violence; Early Marriage; Mental Health; Obesity and Anemia; Healthy Nutrition; Poisons; and The Fragility of Bones.43 The mobile unit brought the successful housing rehabilitation program from the city to the villages. They visited 124 homes in stages of advanced disrepair and prioritized 25 for their first year. They installed and rehabilitated bathrooms and kitchens, demolished dangerous staircases and constructed new ones, put down floors over earthen ones, and, in one case, built and paved a 400-foot road with a “handicapped ramp for a student with special needs” who otherwise was confined to his house, as they lived at the bottom of a cliff. Samah Salah, returning from her fellowship year at McGill, pioneered an innovative program, which brought solar power to three rural villages – connecting them to affordable electrical power for the first time. A condition of the program was that women would be responsible for the implementation committee in each village. Women stand to gain the most from the modern conveniences that a reliable power source brings, being connected to the outside world and safety by lighting the village at night. These women’s leadership increased the status and respect of all women in the villages and was an important marker for greater equality. CSC partnered with the Renewable Energy Research Center (RERC) of An Najah University, which led the project, and CSC took responsibility for community participation and empowerment and trained village women and men on organizational issues and team work. After relaxation of the blockade in 2009, the Nablus district had more freedom of movement and association. By the end of 2012, the Mobile center had established teams of volunteers active in eight villages, and these volunteers assisted over 2000 families – with four to five family members – impacting between 8,000 and 10,000 rural village residents annually through satellite storefront locations and outreach programs. Monthly workshops on rights attract an average of 80–100 beneficiaries per month.44 *** The An-Najah Community Service Center45 main branch in Nablus innovated scores of programs, which directly impacted approximately 200,000 Palestinians between 2007 and 2012 and involved 32,800 volunteers. The majority of volunteers are students at An-Najah University, where all, regardless of discipline, must undertake community volunteer activity. The center

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manages this process. Each year, approximately 3,500 students are trained in community practice, political participation, decision-making, and human rights and placed in 517 organizations throughout the West Bank. Each student completes 50 hours of community service. The Open-Door program is the information and referral service and the first point of contact between community members and the CSC, which opened in downtown Nablus in 2000. By 2012, CSC reached nearly 4,000 families per year directly, with an estimated impact on 16,000–20,000 people, based on a conservative estimate of four to five people per family. At the outset of MMEPII in 2003, roughly 1400 families utilized the Open Door services annually, and the program has grown threefold since then. Trained staff and volunteers give information and advice on issues including unemployment, poor housing, learning disabilities, and economic crises, and mental health-related issues. Clients are received and referred either to appropriate CSC programs or to other local organizations or services with requisite expertise. The housing rehabilitation program described earlier harnesses the power of social work and architecture students, faculty, tradesmen, and local businesses to renovate the most dilapidated homes through voluntary effort and at virtually no cost. It renovated Over 600 homes of low-income families, along with 11 community spaces have been rehabilitated since the inception of this project in 2001. Additionally, six schools have been renovated to accommodate wheelchair access and seven rural girls’ schools have been fitted with adequate sanitary facilities and septic tanks.46 As importantly, this approach again demonstrates in practice how CSC connects the most marginalized to mainstream Palestinian society in collective expressions of community solidarity. CSC introduced hospital social work to Nablus based on experience gained by fellows observing social workers in hospitals in Montreal. The program improved patient experience, reduced the load on doctors and nurses, and was so successful that the Palestinian Health Ministry introduced paid positions for social workers in hospitals across the West Bank as funds became available. By 2012, CSC’s hospital program had approximately 100 volunteers per year who provided administrative and psychosocial support in two local hospitals. Over 700 hospital patients and their families annually are offered support throughout the duration of their hospitalization, in the form of patients’ rights training, information about accessing entitlements and resources under the auspices of the hospital, and direct psychosocial support, raising patient’s spirits through companionship, play, activities, and field trips.47

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In cooperation with the Palestinian Society of the Friends of Thalassemia Patients and the National Centre for Blood Diseases, CSC built a volunteer team to help patients who suffer from this genetic blood disorder, of which there is a higher incidence among Palestinians. Volunteers provide support and organize regular blood drives donating about 30 blood units per month. These 50 volunteers also run group activities for 70 children with this debilitating disease and their families. CSC’s commitment to the inclusion of the most marginalized is evident as well in its normalization program in public schools for physically and psychologically disabled children and youth in collaboration with the Palestinian Ministry of Education. Each year, over 600 students are enabled to access their education through CSC’s efforts, helping disabled children who attend regular schools and their families overcome the difficulties of integration. Activities include home visits, school visits, recreation and educational support. Volunteers also advocate for the rights of these children and their inclusion in public community life.48 Over 100 students volunteer in the computer lab for the blind at An-Najah University each year, provide transcription and print braille textbooks, and train students in the use of specialized computer software and hardware to make learning more accessible. In 2007, the center launched a new initiative to help students identify visual impairments with the assistance of the faculty of optometry at AnNajah University. The center provides regular primary school eye checkups, organizes donation of glasses, and provides optical medical exams where indicated (p. 46).49 The supportive education programs, which began with 12 schools in 2003, placed volunteers in over 50 schools. “Each semester, about 240 volunteers (students and retired teachers) assist about 1000 children with learning difficulties at different schools. CSC Mobile 28 volunteers worked with 280 children in 30 rural schools”.50 CSC launched a support program in 2000 to respond to the needs of the impoverished elderly in the old city of Nablus. Initially, 15 community volunteers “adopted” 30 seniors to advocate for them. By 2012, 30 volunteers, comprised of 20 pharmacy and social work students and 10 other community members, organized social activities for isolated seniors, made over 300 home visits per year, offered support to caregivers, and advocated alongside over 100 elderly citizens of Nablus each year. In these and many other ways, the An Najah Community Service Center continues to leave an indelible imprint on the cultural and social mosaic of Nablus and Palestine and epitomizes the scope of potential achievements through academic–community partnerships. *** Over the entirety of CIDA’s funding to MMEP, from 1998 through 2012, the MMEP centers in Palestine and Jordan impacted the lives of approximately

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600,000 individuals in the cities of Nablus, Amman, and East Jerusalem, as well as in the villages of Aqraba, Jamma’in, Asira Ashamaliyah, Qabalan, Til, and Sebastia that have been served by the Nablus mobile center.51 Add to this the people served by Community Advocacy in its storefronts, food-coops, and outreach since its inception in 1992, the Middle East program directly impacted on more than 850,000 people and since has surpassed assisting 1,000,000 people through its centers. These numbers do not include the tens of thousands of people who benefited from the various organizing efforts and policy changes pushed forward by our affiliated centers. *** With the centers moving forward, I focused my energies on expanding crossborder peace building activities between Jordan and Israel . Following Mohammad Al Hadid’s successful stewardship of the acceptance of Mogen David Adom into the International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescents and the friendship Mohammad, Jimmy Weinblatt (Rector of Ben Gurion University), and I developed on our management committee, we thought about what else could we do. Mohammad visited Ben Gurion University and its medical school, the Israeli Foreign Ministry, and attended the official opening of a Mogen David station in the Arab-Israeli village of Sachnine. Through discussions among Israeli ambassadors Yaacov Rosen (Jordan) and Haim Divon (MASHAV – Foreign Ministry’s International development department), Mohammad, and myself, the Foreign Ministry offered to build a needed emergency department at the Red Crescent Hospital in Amman. The project was carried out by Arabic-speaking Israelis who actually built the facility. This had to be done discreetly – as rumors in the refugee camps about “Israeli agents” in the hospital could create enormous damage. In one discussion, Mohammad lamented the difficulty in getting quality training for Jordanian paramedics. While Jordan had made significant advances by offering a two-year certificate program in emergency medicine, there are no programs in the Arabic-speaking world where more advanced training – a bachelor’s of science in emergency medicine – could be obtained. In fact, Jordan had occasionally sent paramedics all the way to Australia to obtain this training. Well, we thought, Ben Gurion University has offered a three-year bachelor’s of science program in emergency medicine since 1997. The first two years take place at the University’s campus in Beersheva, while the third year is mainly composed of clinical rotations. Ben Gurion could provide courses in Arabic and English. So .  .  . what if we adapted the McGill fellowship model to this reality? Why not have a fully funded cohort of Jordanians enroll in the Ben Gurion three-year program? The students could live at Ben Gurion dormitories and even be able to go home on the occasional weekend. Through this student-focused program, there would be greater interaction among Israeli and Jordanian academics, hospitals, emergency services, and directly among paramedics – saving lives together! What if . . ? What else . . ? Well, we thought, both Israeli and Jordanian emergency services deal with natural disasters such as earthquakes. The last major

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earthquake along the Syrian-African Rift was in 1927. Known as the Jericho earthquake with its epicenter in the area of the Dead Sea, the 6.25 magnitude quake devastated Jerusalem, Jericho, Nablus, Ramle, Lod, Tiberias, and the Jordanian city of Salt in five seconds and killed more than 600 people. Researchers note that a major earthquake erupts along the Syrian-African Rift fault line every 80–100 years. Given these calculations, the next big one is not far off. While we knew that with such an event there would be coordination among Israeli and Jordanian official authorities, what if we develop plans together now on how to prepare for and manage the coming disaster regionally and link it to our paramedic program? In addition to the training of Jordanian paramedics we proposed the establishment of The Jordan-Israel Collaboration in Disaster Preparedness and Management with these objectives. • •

•

•

To achieve comparability and compatibility of the Jordanian and Israeli emergency medical services agencies systems. To establish and support Development and Strategy Forums (DSF) of key stakeholders to explore ways of creating and sustaining an integrated emergency medical services system. To share knowledge and expertise currently utilized in each country concerning EMS service delivery, policies and protocols for handling multi-casualty medical emergency events. To design joint drills that will promote cooperation between management and field agencies in responding to an emergency or a disaster.52

We would face numerous obstacles. In Jordan, paramedics are regulated by the Department of Civil Defense. Mohammed would need to negotiate multiple levels of authority in Jordan to get everyone on board – in particular the Royal Palace. Included in these negotiations would be that for the first time the government of Jordan would recognize a degree obtained by a Jordanian citizen from an Israeli university. In Israel, we obtained the official support of Ben Gurion University and its medical faculty to manage the actual project . The Dean of the Faculty of Health Sciences – Prof. Shaul Sofer – and the Director of the School of Community Health Services, Professor Avishay Goldberg, designated Dagan Schwartz to be my partner in this endeavor. Dagan, Director of Emergency Medicine at BGU, was educated in Chicago and was both personally and professionally committed to making this vision a reality. In a letter to Jimmy Weinblatt, Dagan wrote: The department of Emergency Medicine of Ben Gurion University sees the implementation of this project to be of highest importance for academic cooperation, as a contribution to the development of EMS globally, and as a project that advances understanding and friendship among nations. Our department will be able to launch this program within six months following official decisions by the appropriate authorities.53

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Ben Gurion University was fully committed to see this program to its fruition. In addition to Jimmy, President, Rivka Carmi, who had served on Community Advocacy Beersheba’s founding board, was passionately committed to the program and intervened on numerous occasions to push it forward in academic, governmental, international, and philanthropic forums. Rivka, like her predecessor Avishay Braverman, who traveled with me to Jordan a decade earlier, represented the Ben Gurion brand: innovative, risk-taking, and prepared to go the distance for programs that advanced social justice and peace. I should note that I had no expertise in emergency medicine or disaster management. The partners directly would develop and manage the program. My role was to facilitate between the partners and to assist them in raising funds for it. I was formally appointed advisor to the president and rector of Ben Gurion University. I was also the recipient of The Gold Medal of The Jordan Red Crescent, and I was a full professor at McGill. My “multiple allegiances” provided space to move between them. Mohammad laid the groundwork: Dr. Al-Hadid has asked me to let you know that he met with the Director General of Civil Defense to discuss the possibility of EMS training. The idea of a Bachelor’s degree for paramedics is appealing as they now attend a 2-year diploma at Al Balqa University. However, the General Director felt that this would need to be cleared at the highest levels before they could give a response or explore this further. They would also need an official letter confirming that 12 scholarships would be available to cover tuition, books, living costs etc. Dr. Al-Hadid also hopes to meet with the Minister of Health before you arrive, and he will update you on that when he is able to.54 I attended the ofcial reception for His Majesty King Abdullah in Ottawa a few days before my departure to the region. Sporting my gold medal bestowed on me by the Jordanian prime minister, I met His Majesty King Abdullah and Dr. Bassem Awadallah – head of Civil Defense – and was pleased that Dr. Bassam was already aware of our idea as now was His Majesty himself. We were cooking. Mohammad would arrange for Dagan to meet with Dr. Bassem as well as with EMS HQ , dispatch centers, EMS directors and educators, and emergency departments. We took the 20-minute flight on July 22 to stay two nights. We were booked at the Radisson – the very hotel I had stayed at two years prior, which was then the target of a brutal terrorist attack, and now, like all major hotels in Amman, was reinforced with screening devices and security. I slept well that night – existentially rolling in my mind my last stay there, which literally almost blew up in my face – and what tomorrow would look like – opening a new chapter in cross-border cooperation to work together to save lives! The visits with the director of EMS at the Jordanian Department of Civil Defense and other related facilities in Jordan went very well, and both Dr. Al Hadid and the head of the ambulance service at the Jordanian Ministry of Civil

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Defense Col. Awwad Abu Darwish requested from BGU that this program be adapted and provided to Jordanian paramedics. The Israeli Ambassador to Jordan – Yaacov Rosen – urged us to move swiftly and underscored the unique opportunity and its importance. Subsequently, Dagan, Mohammad, and I co-authored a concept paper, which proposed the enrollment of 12–16 Jordanian students to the Department of Emergency Medicine at Ben-Gurion University who will study in the full academic program. Those successfully completing all requirements will be awarded a bachelor’s degree in Emergency Medicine by Ben-Gurion University. The classes will be taught in English and Arabic. The third year hospital and EMS rotation will be performed partly in Israeli hospitals and with the Israeli national EMS (MDA) and partly with partnering Jordanian hospitals, the Jordanian Red Crescent and the Jordanian EMS. During the clinical rotations in Jordan, teaching staff will include clinicians from the partnering institutions. Throughout the program, regional conferences and collaboration will be sought with the Jordanian Red Crescent, Jordanian EMS and Civil Defense, Jordanian hospitals and universities to facilitate academic paramedic educational programs in the region and to enhance regional collaboration, cooperation and understanding.55 Having official approvals, we obtained a grant from the European Union’s “Partnerships in Peace Program” of close to a half-million euros. The Israeli Ministry of Regional Cooperation and MASHAV also sponsored aspects of the program. The money was falling into place as Mohammad, Jimmy and I traveled extensively in support of the program and together, we addressed academic and community engaged audiences in Geneva, Montreal, Toronto, New York, Philadelphia, Houston, San Francisco, Seattle, and Chicago on a major speaking tour organized by American Friends of Ben Gurion University. Major philanthropic donations came through from both persons associated with the left and those associated with the right – including my well-known beloved right-wing uncle Jacques Torczyner. Ben Gurion University hired Bruria Adini to manage all aspects of the program. Bruria was a wise choice; with multiple degrees in social work as well as public health, Bruria had just completed her PhD (cum laude) – having written a dissertation entitled “Developing an Evaluation Tool for Reviewing Level of Emergency Preparedness of a General Hospital.” Bruria had considerable handson experience, managed internationally funded projects, and served as Head of the Emergency Hospitalization and Alert Department of the Ministry of Health. In addition to her professional skills, the program reflected Bruria’s core beliefs, and she took charge with passion, commitment, warmth, and empathy. In the fall of 2009, 14 Jordanians – including two women – commenced their studies and were welcomed at an official ceremony and an all-day conference at Ben-Gurion University.

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Figure 9.1 Project for Jordan–Israel collaboration in emergency preparedness and response

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The Jordanian students’ first year was dedicated to basic sciences as well as practice knowledge and skills required by emergency medical technicians. The second year focused on theoretical clinical topics and extensive simulation labs, and hands-on teaching. The third year was dedicated to hospital and EMS clinical clerkships. As part of the overall collaboration between the Jordanian and Israeli organizations, 12 students carried out the first phase of the clerkship in Jordanian hospitals while the additional 2 students conducted it in an Israeli level 1 trauma center. The second phase of the clerkship was conducted by all the students in the Israeli Mogen David Adom (emergency medical services). The students were dispersed in 6 different locations, inhabited by Hebrew and Arabic speaking populations, therefore enabling to overcome communication problems. At the end of the clerkship period, all students participated in a condensed training program which focused on life-saving procedures and then undertook their final exams, consisting of both theoretical and practical aspects. All 14 graduates successfully completed the academic program and were awarded a Bachelor’s degree in EMS.56 In addition to graduating three years to date of their enrollment, they competed internationally at the 3rd International EMS Championship as representatives of the Jordanian Red Crescent and Ben-Gurion University and were awarded with the prestigious fourth place in the Basic Life Support category.57 Six meetings of the Development and Strategy Forum (DSF) were held in Jordan and Israel.58 Workshops and emergency preparedness drills took place over the three years. The forum produced two major Standard Operating Procedures (SOPs): one focusing on a coordinated joint response for emergencies and the second on utilization of the social media for cross-border disaster response. In March 2011, I found myself deep in the Negev desert in the Timna Valley – the cite of King Solomon’s famed copper mines – about 30 km north of the Gulf of Aqaba – to participate in an Earthquake Simulation Exercise with about 200 Israelis, Jordanians, and international observers. The day-long simulation included presentations of the primary principles of operating a humanitarian aid camp for internally displaced peoples, the actual deployment of a camp, including registration, medical care, tracing, and psychological support tents, as well as 16 family tents. Its highlight was the implementation of a mass casualty incident drill in which 36 mock casualties, simulants acting as displaced population seeking aid and concerned citizens looking for their lost loved ones (all simulated by BGU students), were evacuated to the camp in order to receive acute medical care or psychosocial services. The training program and simulation exercise provided the basis for common terminology in disaster management and humanitarian aid for the Jordanian and Israeli delegates as members of the

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Early on, this program had an immediate impact in real terms and in real time. Ben Gurion University describes this as follows: Impact of project on emergency response: a case study On October 30, 2009 a bus of Israeli senior citizens who were on holiday in Jordan overturned while en route to the ancient southern city of Petra. One passenger was killed and 34 additional passengers, suffering from various types and severities of injuries, had to be evacuated to medical facilities. The evacuation of the casualties was initially handled by the Jordanian emergency medical services in a rapid and efficient manner. Taking into account the ages and medical status of the casualties, Israeli officials wanted to transfer them back to Israel in a timely manner. As a result of our Jordanian Israeli project on collaboration for disaster preparedness and response, an informal framework for direct communication and coordination of operations was already in place. While dealing with the accident, Jordanian officials from both the Jordanian Red Crescent and the Jordanian Ambulance Services collaborated with their Israeli colleagues and jointly coordinated the evacuation of the casualties in a speedy and professional manner from Jordanian to Israeli healthcare facilities. The personal acquaintances of the members of the DSF and the channels for collaboration that had been established enabled the evacuation of the most severe casualties by Israeli military helicopters that landed in Jordan and flew them directly to Israeli hospitals. Additional casualties were transferred to Israeli hospitals through a collaboration of the Jordanian and Israeli EMS systems. This unprecedented collaboration would not have been possible without the basis for a joint and coordinated response model that was created between the parties in both countries. In alignment with the theme of the Jordanian Israeli project on collaboration for disaster preparedness and response which is, “He who saves a single life saves the world,” the most important goal of the project – collaboration in emergency response – was truly implemented in this emergency situation.60 In May 2009, I attended a ceremony at Ben Gurion University when an honorary doctorate was bestowed on Mohammad Al-Hadid.

Notes 1 Hamas won the Palestinian legislative elections and formed the government on March 29, 2006, without accepting the terms and conditions set by the Quartet for receiving aid.

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2 Stephen Farrell, “West ‘Has to Prevent Collapse’ of Palestinian Authority.” The Times, May 3, 2006. Retrieved September 2, 2007. 3 McGill Middle East Program, Annual Report 2007. 4 Françoise De Bel-Air, Migration Profile: Jordan, Policy Briefs, European University Institute Issue 2016/06 November 2016. 5 Shlomo Swirski and Noga Dagan-Buzaglo, The Occupation: Who Pays the Price? The Impact of the Occupation on Israeli Society and Economy, Adva Center, 2017. 6 Committee for the War Against Poverty in Israel (“the Alalouf Committee”), June 2014, Report, p. 24 (in Hebrew). 7 Shlomo Swirski and Noga Dagan-Buzaglo, The Occupation: Who Pays the Price? The Impact of the Occupation on Israeli Society and Economy, Adva Center, 2017 Committee for the War Against Poverty in Israel (“the Alalouf ”). 8 Monitoring Mission; Helene Lalonde, CIDA’s McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building: May–June 2007, August 9, 2007. 9 Monitoring Mission; Helene Lalonde, CIDA’s McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building: May–June 2007, August 9, 2007. 10 Jacklin Baruch, Community Advocacy Annual Report 2006, Jerusalem, Israel. 11 Monitoring Mission; Helene Lalonde, CIDA’s McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building: May–June 2007, August 9, 2007. 12 www.oecd.org/newsroom/developmentaidtodevelopingcountriesfallsbecauseofglobalrecession.htm 04/04/2012. 13 Holly Hall, “Giving by the Rich Dropped $30-Billion during Recession.” The Chronicle of Philanthropy, August 29, 2012, www.philanthropy.com/article/Giving-by-the-RichDropped/226657. 14 The court-appointed trustee Irving Picard estimated actual losses to investors of $18 billion, and much of that money has been returned. 15 MMEP, Final Narrative Report to CIDA: 2003–2012, p. 39. 16 MMEP, Final Narrative Report to CIDA: 2003–2012, p. 39. 17 Monitoring Mission; Helene Lalonde, CIDA’s McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building: May-June 2007, August 9, 2007. 18 The Jordan Times, Friday, September 28, 2007, “Men on Board” project educates men on women’s rights in Islam; By Linda Hindi – AMMAN. 19 MMEP Phase II – Extension Narrative Report, For the Period: October 2011–March 2012, May 31, 2012. 20 MMEP Phase II – Extension Narrative Report, For the Period: October 2011–March 2012, May 31, 2012. 21 MMEP Phase II – Extension Narrative Report, For the Period: October 2011–March 2012, May 31, 2012. 22 MMEP Phase II – Extension Narrative Report, For the Period: October 2011–March 2012, May 31, 2012. 23 See for example: Anita Shapira, “Politics and Collective Memory: The Debate over the ‘New Historians’ in Israel,” History and Memory, Vol. 7, No. 1, Spring 1995, pp. 9ff, 12–13, 16–17. 24 Annual Report Community Advocacy Lod 2011. 25 Community Advocacy Annual Report 2007–2008. 26 Community Advocacy Lod Annual Report 2011. 27 Community Advocacy Lod Annual Report 2011. 28 Community Advocacy Lod Annual Report 2013. 29 See for example: www.jta.org/2006/12/05/archive/as-the-rockets-continue-to-fallanxiety-and-depression-grip-sderot. 30 Shmulik Hadad, “Sderot: Those Who Can Afford It Have Already Left.” Ynet News, March 19, 2008. Retrieved October 20, 2008. 31 Israel Directory, Miksam Limited, 2003, p. 212.

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32 Meron Rapoport, “The Pioneers of Sderot.” Haaretz, May 25, 2007. Retrieved May 5, 2014. 33 Dr. Nachmi Paz, Director General Sapir College, letter to Jim Torczyner, September 6, 2008. 34 Merav Moshe-Grodofsky, Interview May 18, 2020. 35 Merav Moshe-Grodofsky, Interview, May 18, 2020. 36 Merav Moshe-Grodofsky, Interview, May 18, 2020. 37 Kimberly Inksater, Just Governance Group Ltd., Canada, Evaluation Report, Submitted to: Canadian International Development Agency and McGill University Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peacebuilding; April 19, 2010 (p. 54). 38 Amir S. Cheshin, Bill Hutman, and Avi Melamed, Separate and Unequal: The Inside Story of Israeli Rule in East Jerusalem, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001, pp. 35–37. ISBN 9780674005532. 39 MMEP (narrative report 2011–12). 40 JCAN, Annual Report; 2010. 41 Monitoring Mission; Helene Lalonde, CIDA’s McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building: May–June 2007, August 9, 2007. 42 These were the villages of Aqraba, Jamma’in, Asira Ashamaliyah, Qabalan, Til, and Sebastia – with outreach in10 additional West Bank Villages-. 43 An Najah Community Service Centre, Mobile Centre success briefing, 2008–2009, Nablus. 44 McGill Middle East Program: FINAL NARRTIVE REPORT PHASE II 2012. 45 Information for this section is drawn from McGill Middle East Program Final Narrative Report to CIDA 2010 and Final Report Phase II 2003–10. 46 McGill Middle East Program Final Narrative Report to CIDA 2010; and Final Report Phase II 2003–2010. 47 McGill Middle East Program Final Narrative Report to CIDA 2010; and Final Report Phase II 2003–2010. 48 McGill Middle East Program Final Narrative Report to CIDA 2010; and Final Report Phase II 2003–2010. 49 McGill Middle East Program Final Narrative Report to CIDA 2010; and Final Report Phase II 2003–2010. 50 McGill Middle East Program Final Narrative Report to CIDA 2010; and Final Report Phase II 2003–2010. 51 This number is compiled from the records kept by the MMEP centers. Client intake forms (template available on request) form the primary means of introducing clients into the records system at each center. Basic information, including the client’s name, unique identifier, reason for visit, and follow-up required, is entered into the form. These forms, as well as records from workshop series and projects, are then used in the compilation of monthly or quarterly reports at the centers, for follow up with long-term clients, as well as for reporting to funding bodies on a project by project basis. 52 Dr. Bruria Adini and Dr. Dagan Schwartz, Jordan–Israel Collaboration in Disaster Preparedness and Management, Biannual Report – February 2010, Ben Gurion University. 53 Dagan Schwartz; Letter to Jimmy Weinblatt, July 2007. 54 Jordan Red Crescent email to Jim Torczyner, July 19, 2007. 55 Al-Hadid, Mohammad; Schwartz, Dagan; Torczyner, Jim “Concept Paper for the Emergency Medical Services Collaboration Program With Jordan: Project for the Promotion of Professional and, Academic Collaboration between the Jordanian Red Crescent Society, Jordanian Emergency Medical Services (EMS) and the Department of Emergency Medicine at Ben-Gurion University of the Negev,” 2007.

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56 Jordan–Israel Collaboration in Disaster Preparedness and Response, Final Report, Ben Gurion University, 2012. 57 Jordan–Israel Collaboration in Disaster Preparedness and Response, Final Report, Ben Gurion University, 2012. 58 The DSF consisted of leading officials from both Jordan and Israel who have acquired extensive knowledge and experience in various areas including disaster management, healthcare systems, regional collaboration, and multi-disciplinary management as well as international humanitarian aid. Thirteen officials from each country were appointed as members of the DSFs. I was also appointed as a member. 59 Jordan-Israel Collaboration in Disaster Preparedness and Response, Final Report, Ben Gurion University, 2012. 60 Jordan-Israel Collaboration in Disaster Preparedness and Response, Final Report, Ben Gurion University, 2012.

10 Survival and transformation in the wilderness

As work continued in the program’s storefronts in Israel, Palestine, and Jordan, the McGill Middle East Program management committee – representing senior institutional partners – met frequently to consider the prospects of our organization. With more than a decade of experience working together and championing the basic principle that all people share the same rights, what now? Where do we go from here, and how do we sustain our efforts? In each country, we had requests to expand the model, include additional academic and community partners, and bring rights-based practice to more underserved communities. Should we expand, spread the message and method, and maintain our character of empowering the underserved to access rights, change policies, and be full participants in their communities’ collective welfare? What would such an organization look like? Where would it be headquartered? Where would the funding come from to build and sustain such an idea? Over four days of intense meetings on the Jordanian side of the Dead Sea in March 2008, this group of 24 representatives worked out a vision, structure, and operational program and a budget of $22,318,000 CDN over five years. The overarching vision of the establishment and incorporation of a regional organization wherein each of the centers in the three countries will be members – formalizing ongoing cooperation among Israelis, Palestinians and Jordanians for ongoing civil society development. This regional organization will galvanize peopleto-people relationships from the grassroots of each of the three countries, a key component of peace-building. The vision presented is one of promoting community solidarity and reciprocity as a necessary component of building stable societies – at peace internally and with their neighbours.1 The International Community Action Network (ICAN) was chosen to replace The McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building as the official name of our organization both to facilitate the much talked about possibility of bringing our model of rights-based practice to other parts of the world as well as in anticipation of the organization’s secretariat moving to Jerusalem.

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The responsibilities of the Regional body – ICAN were approved: Overall monitoring and evaluation; Funding strategy; Identification of regional priorities; Guarantee integration of the RBCP model; Develop and maintain regional code of ethics; Provide regional training; Coordinate overall research; Promote overall message and model; and Espouse as principles: welfare, justice and peace, cooperation, and active civil society, bottom-up approach, working with marginalized populations. Four national committees were adopted: Palestine Community Action Network chaired by Rami Hamdallah, President of An-Najah National University; JCAN operating in Palestinian sections of Jerusalem, chaired by Varsen Aghabekian now coordinating the Office of the President of the Palestinian Authority; Israel Community Action Network chaired by Professor Jimmy Weinblatt, Rector, Ben Gurion University; and Jordan chaired by Dr. Mohammad Al Hadid, President Jordan Red Crescent. Each national organization was mandated to recruit academic and community partners, to select locations, and to open 25 new centers in five years. Operational plans were developed subsequent to the Dead Sea meetings, committees formed in each country, partners recruited, and potential sites identified.2 We agreed to seek funding within each partner country and to apply to philanthropic foundations and international governmental organizations such as USAID, the European Union, DFID of the United Kingdom, and CIDA in Canada. We believed we had a strong case to seek substantial funding from the Canadian government to scale up its investment in ICAN as a “signature project” of the government of Canada. In 2003, five centers reached 75,000 people per year. Throughout MMEP Phase II, our network of centers grew from five to 11, now reaching over 150,000 per year. CIDA officials notified us in 2007 that they were hiring an independent evaluator to conduct an arm’s-length evaluation of MMEP. I was concerned as to why CIDA would hire an evaluator at the beginning of the extension phase but was reassured by CIDA that such an evaluation was necessary in order to consider future funding. CIDA hired Hélène Lalonde, who traveled to the region and spent time at each center directly interviewing clients, volunteers, staff, and university and public officials. The Lalonde report was released in August 2007. “The monitor concludes that the project is operating well within the timeframe and budget that has been allocated to this project,” it read. The project is a success and is gathering attention locally as other NGOs, donors and the government witness their success. The important results are two-fold: (1) the services offered are leading to empowering local marginalized populations and (2) the growth of the approach of rights-based social work practice is evident by not only exchanges amongst the fellows and staff of the centres but also through the ability of the network to engage other local civil society actors in replicating the human rights approach to social work.

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Survival and transformation The importance however is in the strength that one center gets from the other – a discussion forum if you want, for exchanges. They are able to speak and share with one another on new ideas, and on the current political situation. One staff told me that when things got bad out there after an Israeli incursion, he would call his friend on the other side, friends made during the Montreal experience. This allows them all to keep open the channels of communication.3

The 58-page report’s recommendations, however, felt a bit flat. Lalonde recommended changes to the reporting structure and for the centers to obtain CIDA assistance to seek embassy and other local sources of funding. It’s concluding recommendation “to CIDA that it finds means to bring project staff and partners together for information-sharing and networking.”4 I was concerned because the issue of sustainability and future funding was not raised in the Lalonde report even though we had discussed it at length. I called her, and she said that she had included such a recommendation in her report. The copy we had was the public, official copy CIDA officials sent us. I asked a colleague to obtain the Lalonde report through the Canadian Access to Information law. Many months later, we received it. In this document, the conclusion was as follows: The project has achieved some impressive results. But the project has more scope to grow and have much greater impact through a well-funded third phase. As the extension period of Phase II is of a short duration, it is time to think of the future. Both CIDA and McGill need to engage into a dialogue on the vision for a third phase. It is recommended to CIDA that it consider the funding of a third phase of the project. This project should build on the successes of this second phase and continue to expand the abilities of local actors to engage local communities in their own development.5 CIDA ofcials removed this recommendation from its publicly released report. Why? We chose not to confront CIDA about this. Better not to get distracted and to move ahead in envisioning Phase III. In the spring of 2009, the management committee approved a concept paper to establish 75 centers over the next five years, which “Based on current data, the project will reach an estimated 1,683,000 beneficiaries directly.”6 We met with Françoise Ducros, CIDA’s director general of the Europe, Middle East, and Maghreb Branch; Isabelle Bérard, director Middle East Division; and Sean Boyd, country program manager. All three were newly appointed and transferred from other areas – principally Afghanistan. Their views and responses were less than enthusiastic. Rather, CIDA priorities for Palestine had changed to the Rule of Law and were being primarily implemented through financing the construction of a courthouse and a forensic laboratory in Palestine. “Soft projects,” which empower people and “advocacy,” which represented people, were

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of no interest to this Conservative government, which had drastically reduced the CIDA budget and was transforming the agency from being independent with its own full minister to becoming a department of Global Affairs with a junior minister. The number of countries eligible for assistance were reduced, the forms of assistance were redefined, and the Harper government sought opportunities for Canadian businesses to benefit from Canadian-funded development projects. The culmination of the process of commercialization and instrumentalization of Canadian foreign aid occurred in 2013, when the responsibilities of CIDA were taken over by the newly created Department of Foreign Affairs, Trade and Development. Although the government maintained that poverty reduction was still the key priority of Canada’s aid activities, the critics suggested that the merger undermined the very purpose of foreign aid, not to mention that it weakened Canada’s development commitments and served mostly private interests.7 I countered that the rule of law necessitates access to justice – a principal function of our centers – and not just the construction of physical buildings. I raised the recommendations from Lalonde’s monitoring report. The three CIDA officials looked at me and said that they had never heard of it. I gave them copies of the full report with the recommendation concerning future funding. They said that, notwithstanding the Lalonde findings, a full evaluation of the entire Phase II covering 2003–10 was required. However, given the budget cuts to CIDA and the Harper government’s new priorities, there was no chance of future funding. CIDA formalized its position in the following letter:

11 May 2009 Dr. Jim Torczyner Professor of Social Work Director McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building Dear Dr. Torczyner, Over the past few years, an international consensus has emerged that the diplomatic peace process in the Middle East must be accompanied by a concerted effort at Palestinian Authority (PA) institution building and economic recovery. A viable and democratic Palestinian state is critical to the achievement of a lasting peace settlement. The Annapolis Conference in November 2007 underscored the need for a twin-track approach. At a donors’ conference in December 2007, the Government of Canada pledged $300 million over five years to improve security and justice,

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strengthen governance and promote prosperity. Following discussions with the PA as well as bilateral and multilateral donors, ‘security and justice sector’ was identified as a lead Canadian focus sector. Subsequent bilateral consultations in August 2008 formalised Canada’s new program of development assistance, which also includes private sector development and humanitarian assistance. In the wake of the bilateral discussions, the West Bank and Gaza program is progressively putting into place a multi-faceted Justice Sector Reform Program. This integrated program Is strategically targeted at strengthening core judicial sector institutions through the provision of policy advice, capacity development, infrastructure building and the provision of equipment. Principal partners include the Ministry of Justice, the Ministry of the Interior, the Office of the Attorney General and the High Judicial Council. It is important to underline that CIDA’s program is firmly anchored by the PA’s justice sector strategy that aims to improve the civil and criminal justice system through strengthened justice sector bodies. The direction of the program was previously discussed with you when we met last February. The concept paper submitted on March 26 was assessed against the justice sector reform program’s priorities and focus, as described above. The outcome of this assessment is a decision unable to support the MMEP Ill. While we recognise McGill’s efforts to portray the initiative as supporting the rule of law, fundamentally, the MMEP proposal does not correspond with the justice sector reform program’s direction, primary partners and beneficiaries. At this juncture, I would like to stress that this assessment in no way meant to diminish the positive impact of McGill’s work in supporting a human rights-based approach to ensure that government institutions uphold the rule of law, with respect to citizen’s rights and social entitlements. While not a primary factor for this decision the availability of funding was considered. The current phase of the project was funded by a regional peace-building fund. The fund is now fully disbursed and will not be replenished. As a consequence, alternative sources of funding would have been required for each geographic component of the project. Such sources of alternative funding are unavailable. The Middle East regional program is being phased out, the Jordan program is fully committed and CIDA does not program in Israel. I should also mention that the Jordan program’s focus is education and the MMEP III proposal would not correspond to its sector of focus. It is also for this reason that CIDA is unable to entertain a proposal for a one-year extension to MMEP II with a corresponding budget increase of $1 million. Nonetheless, CIDA is prepared to offer up to 12 months no-cost time extension to the contribution agreement. I understand that there have been discussions concerning the need to extend the project to allow the completion of all workplan that may have encountered delays. In addition, we believe that this extension would afford McGill additional

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time, if required, to implement a measured exit strategy, thereby enabling those centers that may need alternative sources of funding to maintain their current level of activities until such resources are secured. I would also like to broach the issue of past monitoring reports and the upcoming evaluation since it was raised during the meeting with Françoise Ducros on May 4 and your email of May 6. I am not convinced that a two year old monitoring report provides sufficient grounds to justify the approval of a third phase for which neither a project proposal let alone a concept paper existed. It does not substitute for a thorough examination of a concept paper, particularly given the recent shift in the Government of Canada’s development assistance program priorities in the West Bank and Gaza. A similar view has been adopted regarding the upcoming evaluation. While beneficial for all to evaluate the results of MMEP II, its outcome will ultimately not alter the absence of a fit with program priorities. Despite the decision to end the funding partnership with McGill, CIDA recognises MMEP’s contribution to civil society development and empowerment as well as the rule of law, particularly in the West Bank. This is laudable given the difficult political and economic times that the project has had to navigate. Ultimately, engendering participatory democracy is crucial to hold government accountable, thereby ensuring that it is responsive to the needs and aspirations of its citizens. On a final note, let me express my genuine appreciation for the collaborative partnership that CIDA and McGill have developed over the past decade. I look very much forward to following McGill’s continued work in the region. Best regards, Isabelle Bérard Director Middle East Division

Notwithstanding our sharp divergence of views with the Harper government, I believed that there had to be people within his administration to whom we could appeal based on the value of our work and the results we produced. We tried the political route. I spoke with Conservative members of parliament and Senators, opposition ofcials, leaders of the Jewish and Arab communities, and Quebec political figures and traveled often to Ottawa and met with the Israeli, Jordanian, and Palestinian ambassadors. We had official support from all these sources but to no avail. We could not reach the minister’s office. We did have one clear opportunity. Mahmoud Abbas, President of the Palestinian Authority, was making an official visit to Ottawa in May 2009. The Canadian ambassadors in the region supported us,

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especially Jon Allen, the ambassador to Israel, who helped us in innumerable ways including hosting a luncheon for Heather Munroe-Blum . Principal of McGill, where the presidents of Ben Gurion, An-Najah, and the University of Jordan participated and praised their involvement with McGill through our program. Via Rami Hamdallah and Varsen Aghabekian, Mahmoud Abbas and Saeb Erakat – longtime chief Palestinian negotiator – were briefed. Sami Kilani met with President Abbas in Ottawa shortly before his meeting with Prime Minister Harper. Abbas and Erakat informed us that the meeting went very well. President Abbas asked Harper to fund the McGill proposal in its entirely, and Harper said to him “consider it done.” A week later, Erakat wrote the Deputy Secretary to the Cabinet Claude Carriere: The MMEP has recently submitted a proposal to bring its program to scale. We strongly endorse the proposal in all of its parts. Both Prime Minister Harper and Foreign Minister Lawrence Cannon assured us that they support the program. I would appreciate it very much if you would get back to me regarding this matter. Having obtained no response, President Abbas followed up directly in a letter to Prime Minister Harper:

The right Honourable Steven Harper Prime Minister of Canada Dear Prime Minister Harper, I am writing to you regarding the McGill Middle East Program in civil society and peace Building (MMEP) which I raised with you and with Foreign Minister Cannon during my visit to Ottawa last May. As I mentioned in our discussions, the McGill program which has been funded by CIDA for more than a decade, represents a singular, highly successful contribution of Canada to promoting the rule of law, and advancing civil society in Palestine and, through its regional approach, promoting peace in significant ways. We highly value the McGill program’s efforts to ensure that justice is accessible to all. The MMEP has recently submitted a proposal to bring its program to scale. As I mentioned to you, we strongly endorse the proposal in all its parts, and I was gratified by your assurances that the program has your support. Notwithstanding, I have been informed that there seem to be some internal obstacles, and the MMEP proposal has not yet received the necessary approvals and will not have sufficient funds to undertake the vital expansion of its activities-activities which are so necessary for the establishment of a democratic Palestinian state governed by the

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rule of law with a vibrant civil society and peaceful relations with her neighbors. I write, therefore, to bring this matter to your attention and to kindly ask your good offices to facilitate its successful resolution. With Best Wishes Mahmud Abbas Sep-13-2009 President, Palestinian Authority

Shimon Fogel, CEO of the Canada–Israel Committee, followed with a letter to CIDA Minister Bev Oda:

September 14, 2009 Ottawa, Ontario Elizabeth Cabrera Special Assistant Office of the Honourable Minister Bev Oda Canadian International Development Agency 200 Promenade du Portage Gatineau, QC K1A 0G4 Dear Ms. Cabrera: The Canada-Israel Committee supports the work of the McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building and recognizes the important work of Community Advocacy: Genesis Israel over the decade and a half that it has worked to empower disadvantaged Israeli citizens to advocate for and obtain their rights in Israel. Further, we recognize the importance of the McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building’s (MMEP) regional approach in its rights based community practice model, promoting the advancement of the rule of law in Israel, Jordan and the Palestinian Authority. We have read the MMEP proposal recently submitted to CIDA: “Bringing Rights-Based Practice to scale in the Middle East, Revised Proposal to CIDA-Five years in scope” and are very pleased to endorse this proposal as an important Canadian contribution to stability and the rule of law in the Middle East. Sincerely, Shimon Koffler Fogel

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Our campaign gained some momentum. In September 2009, at the request of CIDA Minister Oda’s policy director Keith Fountain, who reported to the Prime Minister’s Ofce, we were asked to submit a revised proposal without Israeli activities, which we did, for a total of $18m over five years. In December 2009, Keith Fountain came back to us and said that because of strict priorities and current sensitivities around NGO funding in the Middle East, the Department could only commit $5m over three years. Keith Fountain was then suddenly pulled out of CIDA following a report in The Globe and Mail that he had warned NGOs not to criticize the Harper government and not to promote advocacy.8 In February 2010 MMEP submitted a revised proposal. In May 2010, we were informed that Minister Oda approved only $1.8m over two years and consented to meet with us in June. Prior to the meeting with the minister, consultant Kimberly Inksater submitted her 94-page, CIDA-commissioned evaluation of our Phase II, 2003–10 Middle East Program. Although CIDA officials had stated that the evaluation would not change their decision; the document stood us in good stead. Its overall finding concluded “Excellent results were achieved in all outcome areas despite the security, political and economic instability experienced by project partners.”9 We met Minister Bev Oda and her senior officials and summarized our request and why it ought to be designated a Canadian signature project. I presented her an executive summary of the CIDA-commissioned evaluation. Immediately, CIDA officials protested and stated that the evaluation “had not yet been finalized and therefore could not be talked about.” In any event, Minister Oda was preoccupied with numerous expense account scandals involving, among other things, the impropriety of the price of orange juice at London’s Savoy Hotel which eventually resulted in her resignation in 2012. In any event, Minister Oda frankly couldn’t care less about our program and didn’t show much concern for the Middle East or peace building. Her senior officials sat by complacently as the minister would not budge. The final allocation by CIDA to the McGill program was for $1.8 million over two years and ended in 2012. I do not know what, if anything, could have persuaded the Harper government to fund the program at any level. When the president of the Palestinian Authority directly requests it and recalls that the Prime Minister of Canada said to him “consider it done” and when the Chief Executive Officer of the Canada –Israel Committee representing the national Canadian Jewish community writes in support of it, when the Province of Quebec provides funding for it, and in light of the accomplishments documented by CIDA’s own evaluation – if the weight of all this could not move us past the goal post – I don’t know what could. *** I don’t think the outcome would have changed had we had the backing and persuasive power of the highest levels of McGill University. Bernard Shapiro was right when he warned me at our last meeting prior to his retirement in 2003 that I needed to be careful and that there were people within the McGill hierarchy who were not pleased with how I got things done and questioned if it was even

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the role of the university to be involved in the promotion of what the program did. The university valued our bringing in high profile, fully paid-for graduate students from the Middle East and featured them in their magazines and publicity. Embracing the vision of the program with feet on the ground and defending it toward a Conservative government which opposed it, however, was another matter. In the McGill administration’s judgement of its interests, it was simply not worth it. McGill University underwent a profound transformation under the leadership of Heather Munroe-Blum, who succeeded Bernard Shapiro as Principal and Vice Chancellor and served from 2003–13. During these years, McGill significantly increased its standing in world and Canadian rankings; its percentage of doctoral students; and research funding. In a document issued in celebration of “Principal Heather Munroe-Blum’s decade of leadership at McGill University, 2003–2013,” McGill notes among numerous achievements that it ranked “#1 in Canada, and in the world Top 20 for six consecutive years (QS World University Rankings 2012); #1 in Canada among medical-doctoral universities for eight consecutive years (Maclean’s University Rankings 2012)”. “Total research funding revenue increased significantly: • 2002/2003: $342.7 million • 2010/2011: $523 million . . . and a steady increase in value of signed research contracts: • 2003: $12,696,687 • 2012: $17,582,287.” Doctoral admissions increased by more than 26 per cent between 2006 and 2011. McGill ranked “#1 across Canada’s research universities in proportion of PhD students as a percentage of all degree-seeking students.” These achievements translated into effective fundraising. “Surpassing all expectations: In June 2013, Campaign McGill announces its fundraising goal has been met – and surpassed – reaching an impressive $1.026 billion.”10 Success in these domains was not without its costs to the culture, values, and organization of McGill itself. The McGill I knew was changing at every level. Both Principal Bernard Shapiro and Chancellor Gretta Chambers had retired, as had Estelle Hopmeyer, who had served as Director of the School of Social Work and was instrumental in assisting fellows and teaching them. Each of these individuals had traveled to the region to support the program, and, whenever necessary, each one intervened internally to protect the program and me in the face of institutional bureaucracy. The days of easy access and the unparalleled support I received from the most senior-level people at McGill and the overall sense of loyalty and shared purpose many of us felt as an academic community were being transformed. Like many universities, McGill became increasingly centralized and bureaucratized with numerous added administrative levels, procedures, rules, hierarchies, and even rules about hierarchy in order to exercise greater control to raise and allocate funds more effectively and efficiently. While there is considerable question as to the extent to which increased centralization increases efficiencies, centralization does decrease collegiality, accountability, access, freedom of thought and deed, democratic participation, and sense of community among its faculty who, at McGill, have an association but no union.

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Even the institutional memory of my successful grievance against the dean of arts in 2004 (Chapter 7) was transformed to conform with this new value system. Rather than an injustice having been corrected as per the findings and unanimous conclusion of the grievance committee, the institutional memory aligned with the changing nature of the organization and became transformed to my needing to be reined in. I experienced this changed organizational culture beginning in 2005 when the university imposed a new director of the school of social work without a formal competitive search process. A Canadian repatriated from the United Kingdom after having held senior bureaucratic positions in the U.K. government of Tony Blair, she was very much aligned with the university priorities and increased management control. She eliminated elected faculty representatives to the staff appointments, tenure, and promotion committees. During her nine-year tenure, she created and exploited divisions among faculty members and students. In the provincial-wide general student strike of 2012, for example, she threatened sanctions against students who chose not to cross a picket line. The McGill Middle East Program was on her radar, but while we maintained a degree program approved by Senate, obtained millions of dollars in federal grants, and had high visibility, the program was able to continue unabated despite her attempts to take bites off the edges. She almost immediately ordered an internal audit of our accounts. This was quite unnecessary. I have always been completely transparent and correct about financial issues, as only with an above-board financial footing can one stand firm when promoting change. In fact, I had insisted that CIDA audit us after the first six months of our program because I had my doubts as to whether McGill’s accounting system was fully compliant with that of the Federal Government, and we underwent independent audits at the conclusion of each CIDA funding cycle as required by the Treasury Board of Canada. When the Canadian Federal dollars ran out in 2012, internal struggles at McGill began in earnest. Both the director of the school and the new dean of arts sought to exert control over ICAN by challenging its status as a “University Research Center.” To digress, I had founded The McGill Consortium for Human Rights Advocacy Training in 1990 (MCHRAT), and, as the name suggests, as a consortium. In 1994, I was awarded an infrastructure grant by the Quebec government to establish an inter-university center dedicated to bringing academic expertise to those with least access. The Middle East program grew from MCHRAT. I resisted MCHRAT becoming a center as I saw it as another level of unnecessary bureaucracy. MCHRAT developed local, national, and international programs, and each project had its own hands-on board because we sought true, reciprocal partnerships between academia and the concerned communities. I acquiesced because the envelope from which the Quebec Ministry of Higher Education could fund us was for interuniversity centers. So MCHRAT became a center and was listed as such on the university website but continued to manage its affairs as it did before. In 2009, McGill University established a task force to tighten its rules around centers because

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There are presently different types of units referred to as research centres at McGill. Some are established organizations with formal governance structures, shared research infrastructure, and strengths in intellectual property, while others are temporary groups formed for the purpose of a specific project. Despite the striking differences between these entities, they have all, over the years, become categorized as “centres.” The new rules include that a McGill University-Research Centre is expected to be led by a director appointed for a time-limited term; Exist continuously and have clearly identified goals and objectives; be financially secure, with sufficient funding to support its operations and research activities; and maintain a high level of research productivity.11 Formal accountability is to the dean of its Lead Faculty, who chairs the board. The board is composed of senior administrators – Vice-Principal Research and the Provost, research center staff, and a graduate student. It was clear that neither MCHRAT or the Middle East Program met these new criteria because, operating from a more inclusive framework, we are premised on a different model – a model that translates research into action with and on behalf of the most marginalized in reciprocal partnerships. The new rules did not fit us, and for several years, I tried to convince the university that diverse ideas, programs, and disciplines require a diversity of structures to best achieve their goals. I failed to find a formula that gave our center the flexibility it required and at the same time gave the university the accountability it sought. I concluded that this exercise around center status was not to support or improve its mission but to control and redefine it. And what did we get in return for this proposed compliance? The university did not provide ongoing financial support or grant any special benefits. It provided premises and other services, which were certainly compensated for with the $1,500,000 in overhead just from our CIDA grants the university obtained over the years. My best strategy was to agree, and so I did. We no longer refer to the work of MCHRAT or the Middle East Program as a McGill University Center. Instead, all our activities fall within my role as a professor at McGill University as part of my academic work and in compliance with university regulations. Thanks to the efforts of Kappy Flanders, Chancellor Arnold Steinberg and his wife Professor Bleema Steinberg became interested in the program, and in October 2013, I accompanied Arnold and Bleema on a week-long visit to our centers and academic partners in Israel and Palestine, and I also arranged a personal meeting with the newly appointed Palestinian Prime Minister – Rami Hamdallah.12 The Arnold and Bleema Steinberg Foundation became important funders of our fellowship program, as did Lilian and Billy Mauer, who were also introduced to us by Kappy Flanders. Gretta Chambers paved the way for us to obtain important funding from Power corporation. With added support from

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the government of Quebec, philanthropists, and our partners in the region, we raised sufficient funds to field a cohort of nine fellows for 2014–16. I obtained a university-approved medical leave not to teach undergraduate classes in winter 2014; applied for a travel advance, which indicated that I would be away to recruit fellows from December 15 and return on February 8th, 2014, which the director of the school approved; and I provided additional documentation of my participation at an academic conference in Israel on January 8 and 9, 2014. I arrived in Jerusalem on December 17, 2013. Undaunted by our resurrection, the director of the school of social work, backed by the dean of arts, sought to redefine my academic responsibilities while I was in the Middle East. On December 19, 2013 I received a letter from the dean of arts stating that he expected me to be in Canada as of January 8, 2014 to assume full academic duties, which would be assigned to me by the director of the school. The dean’s letter was copied to the provost. Within hours, I received a letter from the director of the school – with a copy to the dean and to the provost – that I was being assigned to teach two undergraduate courses – notwithstanding that I had not taught these courses before, had an exemption not to teach undergraduate courses in winter 2014, and had approval to recruit fellows in the region until February 8th. I wrote the Dean and the director several times, but the Dean wrote me on January 14th, 2014 that “approval of my trip to the region does not constitute formal approval of these activities as a substitute for teaching,” demanding that I return immediately to be assigned alternative duties and actually threatening to reduce my salary unilaterally! “I will have to reduce your salary proportionately until such time as you resume your full academic duties.”13 On January 28, 2014, I received a letter from the dean in which he expressed surprise that I did not return to campus “despite my express communication to you to be in Canada to assume your full academic duties,” and he summoned me “to a disciplinary meeting under section 9 of the Regulations for the Employment of Academic Staff.” On January 30th, 2014, I filed a grievance against the dean and the director of the school of social work alleging they were wrong to assign to me undergraduate teaching in direct defiance of McGill’s medical recommendation. I argued that the approval of my trip to the Middle East and its quick reversal of this approval once I arrived in the Middle East was arbitrary and unreasonable and that the forthcoming disciplinary meeting with the dean was a direct product of this abusive behavior. Unexpectedly, on March 26, 2014, the director of the school of social work sent an email to faculty announcing that she was resigning her position and returning to England to assume a senior governmental post. My grievance ended up in a mediated resolution whereby the dean acknowledged it was wrong to insist that I teach undergraduate courses despite a McGill medical-approved exemption. He undertook to draft a letter to me that their internal audit did not include any indication of any financial impropriety, that he would attend an upcoming public event of ours to signal his support, and that he would provide “verbal reassurance

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regarding Prof. Torczyner’s accountability to various people” who may have been given a different impression. In return, I agreed that this settlement covered all the issues raised in my grievance. *** I started this journey in 1992 with instincts, intuition, no funds, and no plan. Twoplus decades later we were a complex organization, with 10 institutional partners in four countries, with 11 centers directly assisting over 100,000 people a year at our peak, strongly linked to universities and academic programs, while driven by local volunteers – and all indirectly inspired by Jasmine Williams’ act of grace in Côte- Des-Neige. By 2013, this inspiration was no longer finding sustenance at McGill or in Ottawa. I was tired – fatigued from the lack of support from the Canadian government, and from ongoing internal politics at McGill. Ready to give up overall leadership of the program, I hoped that I would be able to do so in the next couple of years, if we found ways to sustain it. To remain at McGill, however, would require an academic/activist to assume my role and be hired as faculty on a tenure track position. People like me who combine both roles are increasingly rare, and McGill would not make a commitment to seeking an academic successor. *** Without funding for our management committee meetings, we saw each other less often, and everyone’s preoccupation turned from expansion to survival. Some partners fared better than others. An-Najah University completely absorbed the center as an important part of the university. The center continues to coordinate student voluntary placements, provides the services described throughout this book, and has expanded in significant ways. Baheej Nasrallah, a standout in the 2014–16 cohort, returned to An-Najah and continues to play a key role at the center. Sami Al Kilani, having completed his PhD, returned to An-Najah and was appointed Dean of the Faculty of Education and, after a relatively short time, returned to his preference: teaching, writing, and involvement in the center. Sami retired in 2018 and now resides with his children in Toronto; inspired by his grandchildren, he continues writing and involvement with ICAN. Mezach at Sapir Academic College expanded its reach. When Amit Ketain returned from Canada in 2015, he picked up where he left off. Having been a student of Merav’s at Sapir and staff at Mezach and having started the center in Ofakim, he was the main organizer who galvanized citizens to improve public transportation in Sderot. Merav, Amit, and lawyer Becky Cohen Keshet led Mezach to expand its centers to the Bedouin town of Rahat and developed their model to become an independent training institute. Amit is now the director of Mezach. Merav, the founder and academic director of Mezach, served as Director of the school of social work at Sapir, and continues to teach and write, inspired by her growing brood of children and grandchildren. JCAN continues to display resilience serving the Palestinian population in Jerusalem. In 2014, with funding from the British Government, JCAN opened a new

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center in Kfar Aqab. Kfar Aqab is the northernmost Palestinian Arab neighborhood in East Jerusalem. It is part of the area annexed and included in municipal Jerusalem following the 1967 war. Kfar Aqab is adjacent to Ramallah and is cut off from the rest of Jerusalem by Kalandia – a major check point – and surrounded by the separation barrier. Kfar Aqab experienced rapid growth. Its population rose from 10,400 in 2006 to 110,000 today, as housing is much cheaper and Palestinians with Jerusalem identity cards can live there and maintain their Jerusalem residency status. West Bank Palestinians and Palestinian Jerusalemites both have access to Kfar Aqab – making it possible for married couples to live there irrespective of their identity. Kfar Aqab residents pay taxes to the Jerusalem Municipality but can’t get there because of the separation wall and checkpoint. Israel provides electricity, and the Palestinian Authority provides water to the community. There is no sewage system and infrastructure has not kept up with the tenfold increase in population. No one provides public security, and jurisdictional authority for most services remains unclear and in dispute resulting in a grossly underserved population. Kifah Banioweida returned from her fellowship year in 2015 and since then has been a core support of the organization. In 2018, 5,560 individuals were directly impacted by JCAN. Close to 80 per cent required advocacy services and legal consultations (4,366). Thirty-seven volunteers completed the training course and were assisting in these and in outreach – reaching 570 individuals. At the end of the DFID grant, JCAN was forced to close its centers in Sur Bachar in 2018 and At-Tur in 2020 – consolidating its activities in Kfar Aqab. Manar returned from Canada as a fellow in the 2018–20 cohort and continues to direct JCAN as a lawyer and soon to be MSW. In 2013, Community Advocacy, after a 20+ year run, declared bankruptcy. The demise of Community Advocacy, however, was not due to the loss of Canadian funds, as Canada only supported the peace-building and networking component of Community Advocacy’s activities. After many years, ongoing sources of financial support dried up. Barbara Epstein, who deserves much credit for growing and expanding the organization and playing a key role in building the ICAN network, was unable to attract new funders or develop leadership in the organization to succeed her. As well, ongoing attacks by Likud governments on international funders of “left wing” organizations resulted in legislation imposing limits on Israeli organizations engaging in advocacy. The work in Lod continues. Irit Ben Porat returned in 2015 from Canada and restored an active storefront with our new partner Na’am, which had shared premises with Community Advocacy. In 2019 Goni Ketain and Haya Abu Kishak, returning fellows, spent the year furthering the organization. Mezach picked up the work in Beersheba, and the Municipality of Jerusalem adopted Community Advocacy storefront services as part of its department of social welfare. Nationally, Israeli public organizations now list on websites clear and comprehensive explanations of rights, benefits, and application materials. In Jordan, Salah Al Lousi, who founded the Sweileh Center, died suddenly of MERS at a young age in 2013. Talal Qdah, seeking to supplement his income,

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moved to Qatar for several years to teach social work. Waqa continued to pioneer services with assistance from Ibtisam Khaswneih, who returned from her fellowship in 2015. The road as an independent NGO – particularly without Talal or Salah – proved difficult – notwithstanding the dedicated support and involvement of Qais Tarawneih (2004–06) and Inam Nimri. Waqa suspended operations in 2018. *** While ICAN and its partners were seeking to hold our own, a bright star emerged unexpectedly. Amal Sana, the Bedouin feminist activist and social justice powerhouse who graduated in our first cohort of fellows in 1998, pioneered Community Advocacy’s outreach to the Bedouin community and then co-founded her own organization AJEEC – Arab-Jewish Center for Empowerment, Equality, and Cooperation. AJEEC became a major force for change addressing inequality within and toward the Bedouin community and toward marginalized populations in general by creating alternative services while successfully advocating for scores of policies, including economic development for Bedouin women, hunger and malnutrition in school-age children, voluntarism, and health care. AJEEC currently manages about 100 programs with an annual budget exceeding $5,000,000. As co-founder and co-director for 12 years, Amal became a well-known public figure. In 2005, Amal was chosen as one of 1000 Women Jointly Nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. She has been the International Honoree of Seeking Common Ground, was selected by the Israeli newspaper The Marker as one of 101 Most Influential People in Israel, and the World Association of Small and Medium Enterprises honored her “for her contributions to Economic Empowerment Programs for Arab Bedouin Women.” In 2011, Amal was awarded the Victor J. Goldberg Prize for Peace in the Middle East by the Institute for International Education. In August 2012, Amal wanted a break from practice and time to reflect, relate to theory, and do research. She chose McGill for her PhD and to my great delight chose me as her supervisor. Arriving in Montreal with her husband Anwar and eight-year-old twins, Amal was unclear what lay ahead for her professionally. Amal was an outstanding student and won the PhD prize in 2017 for her dissertation “Managing the Tensions Facing Indigenous Minority Social Change Service Organizations that Combine Service Provision and Advocacy.” On the way, Anwar, a lawyer, became a social worker and found an outstanding fit working with refugees at The Montreal City Mission. Her twins acclimated to Montreal, and although they return frequently to Israel, the family chose to stay in Montreal. During her years of study, Amal became deeply involved in ICAN and its future. She brought in AJEEC as a new partner in our network and helped to coordinate the fellowship program. She accepted the position of Executive Director in 2016, and she has directed the organization ever since. As Executive Director, Amal established a strong advisory board, which included Bernard Shapiro, Sheila Goldbloom, Brian Bronfman, and Soryl Rosenberg, who had long been involved in the program. Steven Hecht, the founder of “A Million Peacebuilders,” coordinated the peace-building sessions for the 2014–16 cohort

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and was elected Chairman of the Board. David and Gail Auerbach, whom I met in his dentist chair as he was performing a root canal on me, became a strong supporter of Community Advocacy, and ICAN joined the board along with John Bingham and Steve Feinbloom – New York North Country supporters. Amal recruited new members: Irene Woods, Jonathan Goldbloom, Marisa Samek, Matt Price, Peter Malouf, and William Graham. I am a member of the advisory board and Academic Director. Amal was recognized as a “Genius: 100 Visionaries of the Future, The Einstein Legacy Project” commemorating 100 years since the founding of The Hebrew University. Amal parlayed this award into a grant for ICAN fellows and brought in The Hebrew University as an official partner who selected two fellows for the 2018–20 cohort. Amal’s fundraising abilities have kept ICAN afloat and have enabled us to provide financial support to JCAN, Mezach, and Waqa. With excellent staff – Dom, Hanya, and Hend – Amal also made time to pursue a post-doctoral fellowship at the Harvard Kennedy School in 2019–20. She has already had several articles accepted for publication in refereed journals as well as prestigious research grants. Of all the people I have encountered in close to a half-century of academic life, Amal is the most capable to combine an academic platform with making a profound impact on the lives of those with least access, particularly indigenous women. A position opened at the school of social work this year in the field of social policy, advocacy, and community practice. Amal was the first choice of the selection committee, but after discussions over several hours with the director of the school, she withdrew her application. Amal was confronted with the new reality of social work academia at McGill: research publications and funding, doctoral students, and clinical practice. When I applied to McGill in 1973, I explained during my interview that I cannot teach without applying it in practice, that this may cause some controversy, and that if this was not possible at McGill, they shouldn’t hire me. McGill welcomed me – a 28-year-old recently minted PhD from Berkeley with practice experience. Had I been interviewed today, not only would I have been quickly shown the door, but I would likely not have gotten an interview. Amal will carry forward this evolving, collective vision of universality, reciprocity, and inclusion through rights-based practice through her own path and in her own way and will bring ICAN to a new place as an independently incorporated organization fielding partnerships with various academic institutions. I have full confidence that the future of this evolving vision will flourish with Amal. I relish the optics: a Jewish professor, child of Holocaust survivors, Zionist, raised in an Orthodox family in New York, passes the baton to a Muslim, Palestinian feminist, who is an Israeli citizen, speaks Hebrew, believes in a two-state solution, and advocates for all people to share the same rights.

Notes 1 Management Committee Minutes March 2008 Dead Sea, Jordan. 2 Management Committee Minutes March 2008 Dead Sea, Jordan.

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3 Monitoring Mission; Helene Lalonde, CIDA’s McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building: May-June 2007, August 9, 2007. 4 Monitoring Mission; Helene Lalonde, CIDA’s McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building: May-June 2007, August 9, 2007. 5 Monitoring Mission; Helene Lalonde, CIDA’s McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building: May-June 2007, August 9, 2007; Document divulguden vertu de la Loi sur l’acc€s a linformation | Document released under the Access to Information Act. 6 McGill Middle East Program: “Bringing Rights Based Practice to Scale: Concept Paper” 2009. 7 www.academia.edu/35901016/Canada_as_a_selective_power 1803. Canada as a selective power under Stephen Harper Marcin Gabryś Tomasz Soroka; KSIĘGARNIA AKADEMICKA; Krakow, 2017. 8 Globe and Mail, www.theglobeandmail.com/news/politics/ottawa-notebook/top-adviserleaves-bev-odas-office/article4351923/. 9 Kimberly Inksater, Just Governance Group Ltd., Canada, Evaluation Report Submitted to CIDA, April 19, 2010. 10 www.mcgill.ca/principal/files/principal/web_g130454_legacy_en.pdf. 11 www.mcgill.ca/research/files/research/research_centres_policy_on_3.pdf. 12 Jim Torczyner, Op Ed, www.jpost.com/opinion/op-ed-contributors/a-look-at-ramihamdallah-316864. 13 Letter from Dean of Arts to Jim Torczyner, January 14th, 2014.

Epilogue

I never could have imagined some 25 years ago that this program would directly impact more than a million of the most underserved and marginalized people in Israel, Palestine, and Jordan; mobilize thousands of volunteers to advance changes in social policy that improved the lives of hundreds of thousands more; and introduce rights-based practice into the lexicon of academic institutions and public life in these countries. Nor could I ever have imagined that during this quarter century a global recession, wars, revolutions, assassinations, the collapse of the Middle East peace process, and a pandemic would scourge the world and impact the underserved and marginalized more devastatingly than any other group, and that, despite it all, a group of people from countries in longstanding conflict, from diverse religions, ethnicities, and backgrounds would persevere together because of the strengths of their beliefs, their chemistry, stubbornness, and determination to keep moving forward despite suspicion and recrimination from within as well as across borders. The underlying theme for the way this process unfolded over a quarter of a century is the strength and depth of the relationships and the collective vision that evolved while actualizing – and sometimes discovering – core values premised on the principle that we all share the same rights. Trust, shared perceptions, and common purpose did not come about easily and were severely tested during times of conflict and upheaval but were incubated in a secure, respected, neutral institution – McGill University. These relationships joined together the highest level of government and aristocracy, notable academic institutions, graduate students, and empowered community volunteers in reciprocal relationships to challenge and change inequality to promote social justice and peace within countries and regionally. Academic institutions took the lead in quilting the fabric of their communities’ diversity by taking their expertise directly to those who had least access to it. In a world increasingly interconnected and fragmented at the same time – evident today in the Covid-19 pandemic and Black Lives Matter uprising – it is urgent to not only acknowledge the basic principle that we all share the same rights but to operationalize it in each of our relationships; in all of our communities; with our institutions, laws, and regulations; and with our elected officials. Academic institutions have high privilege and an esteemed role to play.

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What transpired throughout this program demonstrates Marris’1 argument that ultimately the only effective way to manage uncertainty is inclusively and with reciprocity and that our species is indeed capable of joining practical self-interest with high moral purpose through which, as Viktor Frankl observed, we find meaning through the decisions we make in the moment. The Appendix that follows these closing thoughts frames this rights-based approach in an ideology of coexistence and a methodology for operationalizing it in practice. I urge you to give it some attention, but, to conclude, I want to make a few points about what makes this experience worth it and put forward a proposal for how educational institutions can transform society into one that is inclusive and socially just. Critics will argue that peace today is more elusive than when the program first started, and the gap between those who have and those who do not is wider than ever in each country. Some of the centers are vibrant and viable. Others have fallen on hard times. Yes, the lives of a considerable number of underserved people improved and some positive relationships were formed among the partners, but it is a drop in the bucket. Is it worth it? The same problems remain and, if anything, have worsened. Where is the happy ending? The moral of this story is that there is no final destination in the struggle for social justice. Coexistence work is work in progress. There will always be struggles to make room at the table and to realize long-term reciprocal interests over short term self-interest. When I first engaged in civil disobedience in the civil rights movement in the 1960s, I believed that through collective demonstrations, society would change once and for all and everything would be as it should. Sixty years later, it isn’t. So there are no happy endings but points of happiness to celebrate from the heart when they come and points of frustration and despair managed reciprocally to keep it going, not give up, and be prepared to continue the struggle with an engaged group. This is perhaps the moral of the story – embedded in the relationships that proved possible often under impossible circumstances and the meaning each one of us discovered in the actions we took. Picture Palestinian members Sami Kilani and Bilal Salameh taking a donkey cart through hillside trails to circumvent the military closure of Nablus to get to the Allenby Bridge and on to Amman for a management committee meeting. Over two decades, our meetings have been productive, collegial, confrontational, emotionally fraught, and funny. We have gotten to know each other’s families and personal preferences; we have – as a group of Jewish, Muslim, Arab, Israeli, Christian, Canadian, Palestinian, and Jordanian colleagues – baffled more than a few waiters in Amman and engaged in more than one heated debate over who makes the best hummus. These relationships powered the transformation of entire communities as they empowered each one of us. Academics and community activists joined in a common ideology of coexistence premised on universality, reciprocity, and inclusion. We fashioned a shared identity across borders from which we drew strength and motivation and with which we created opportunities that impacted more than a million people.

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Think of it this way. All this emerged from the leadership of one esteemed university. None of this could have happened without the unflinching and dedicated support of Bernard Shapiro and Gretta Chambers while they led McGill. Imagine for a moment that every academic institution were required as part of its public mandate and funding to add its “drop to the bucket” and engage its entire institution with boots on the ground – outside the university and in the rough and rocky soil that needs to be plowed, respected, and shared. How many drops might it take to fill rivers of hope and oceans of opportunity? It is the joining of academia with the everyday struggles of ordinary people that has not been evident in recent decades. In my academic experience universities have become increasingly corporate, risk-averse, and politically correct. In crisis events, administrations are often perceived as late, indecisive, and inefficient. Championing ideas driven by topical values and concerns takes the shape of establishing bureaus to deal with issues such as safety, sexual harassment, equity, and diversity, approving and widely distributing policies and public pronouncements about these matters, and seeking funding to establish academic programs to study these issues. It stops there. Universities value and reward publications, research grants, contracts, and prizes, as these most count in raising ratings in international standing and generate revenue. These are important and represent significant accomplishments, but in doing so educational institutions have abandoned their commitment to make education truly universal not only by researching the world but at the same time actually engaging in it to improve it for the better. This corporatization of academia has reshaped the identity of academics, the opportunities available to them, and their motivation and generated an elitist detachment from the real world. The transformation of academic institutions and their values is most readily expressed by how they play to the rankings and by what they value – demonstrated by what and with what they reward their community of faculty, students, and support staff. In my experience in general, success has become measured by the gross weight of the number of publications in peer reviewed journals, the dollar amount and sources of research grants, and the scholarly prizes attained. Publications – like recycled tonnage – are measured by size, height, and weight but not by content volume or discerning individual original contributions among multiple co-authorships and the flippage of methodology and findings that can be recycled as additional publications but could really be produced in one solid article. I am not dismissive of the hard and serious work of my friends and colleagues in academia, and I have high regard for them. Rather, I have seen over time that the organization of academic institutions increasingly drives scholars to narrow one’s sights, to play the game, to organize time efficiently to produce scholarly articles and obtain prestigious research grants irrespective of how limited the scope might be. It is called academic career planning, which has lost sight of its broad mission to create new knowledge, ideas, and practices because an academic platform is one of the few that not only permits academics to pursue knowledge

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freely but places a public trust in us to do so – to make a real impact on people’s lives – and particularly on those who least share our privilege. How can this be turned around? How do we restore the vital importance of service to and reciprocity with the most underserved to enrich the well-being and knowledge of students, faculty members, support staff, and entire communities? What can we learn from the experiences of our academic partners described in this book who established actual, thriving community partnerships? The example of An Najah National University in Nablus, Palestine, provides insight. Service to the peaceful development of the Palestinian people is embedded in the mission of the University co-equally with research and teaching. All students are required to do community service each year for which they obtain academic credit. These thousands of volunteers are coordinated and managed by the Community Service Center ICAN established with An Najah. CSC provides training in a rights-based approach and matches these volunteers to hundreds of community and public organizations where the voluntarism takes place. Students have faculty advisors, and the time faculty engage in this work is considered as an important part of their workload. CSC itself reports to the director of scientific centers, who reports directly to the president. This structural integration ensures that “service to the community” is more than lip service but is actualized in every faculty, department, and student in the university. Think about what happens. Ophthalmology students volunteer with people who are blind and teach them to read in Braille. A group of history students interviews them to produce books in Braille about their lived experience. Architecture students design and modify their homes with them and promote selfsufficiency. Persons with disabilities trapped in their houses until engineering students showed up and built ramps and roads and renovated dilapidated houses, or students bringing solar energy to remote hillside villages, or students of the Koran empowering women by teaching them their rights in Islam, or children who have lost a parent and teenagers who lack hope bond with student volunteers and find acceptance, safety, and reassurance and can dream again. Each of these is among the countless examples that jump to mind where the university was quilting the social fabric by connecting the most marginal and alone with young, vibrant students who arrived at their doors with one message – you are part of us, you are important to us, and we are here to help. Ben Gurion University committed its faculty to establish our first center in Beersheba, notwithstanding municipal opposition. From this relationship emerged a partnership with Jordan in emergency medicine and disaster preparedness that has saved lives (Chapter 8). Sapir Academic College put its own money into bringing its expertise to the community and established three rights-based centers in communities proximate to the Gaza border, where residents have been traumatized and many are impoverished. These and many more examples demonstrate in real terms what academic institutions can do when they commit themselves to bringing their expertise to the most underserved and marginalized, reach out with respect and reciprocity, and emphasize that the most underserved are as important and merit the same consideration and respect as the most privileged.

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Young people today are empowering all of us by uniting around the core values of universality, reciprocity, and inclusion and across racial, ethnic, religious, divides to promote equality and justice. Were universities to adopt the principles of the An Najah model, we could have an enormous impact and provide ongoing support and fuel to this critical movement. Doing so will not come about by adding a division or a program but requires a restructuring of education itself where the entire university is engaged in a coordinated strategy. My point of departure and premise is that civic, reciprocal engagement as described in this book must be an expectation the public holds for all high schools, colleges, and universities and requires all students, faculty, administrators, and support staff to be engaged in programs conceived by them in partnership with underserved communities. This will enrich society as a whole, generate new knowledge, and promote inclusion in the day-to-day lives of each one of us. To do so requires changes in policy. I end this volume with a few policy approaches to incentivize such a transition. First, I propose that beginning in year one of high school and continuing each year of publicly funded education every student be required to perform 500 hours of community service annually. This community service will be counted as academic credits toward graduation at each and every level of education. Furthermore, for each volunteer hour performed, students obtain a $15 credit for further education. With this proposal every high school student, having volunteered 500 hours annually for four years, would have accumulated $30,000 worth of tuition credit dollars. University students engaged in community service would continue to accumulate tuition credits. Second, I propose that all faculty members, administrators, and support staff also devote 500 hours annually to community service where they bring their skills to underserved communities. History professors could assist underserved communities to discover their roots, or faculty in creative arts could add these dimensions to the life of ordinary citizens, or environmental scientists could engage in programs with underserved communities to monitor water quality and other pollutants, or business faculty could assist stores that sell fresh produce in low-income neighborhoods to become viable. The only limits to these possibilities are those of our own imagination and desire. For this program to take effect, academic institutions must recognize these hours as part of one’s employment. This means that a university reconceptualizes how knowledge is gained and transferred and recognizes approximately one quarter of job responsibilities for the purpose of community service. It acknowledges an obligation to give back and instills and incentivizes these values in its entire community. Further, by valuing service on a coequal basis with research and teaching in considerations for hiring, merit, promotion, and tenure, academic institutions reshape faculty identity as being part of the community, incentivize opportunities, and endorse the motivation that many colleagues I know yearn to actualize – to put their knowledge to everyday, needed use. This will not dilute academic quality standards or rigor. It will enrich, enhance, and augment them by provoking inquiry and debate based on data and personal

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knowledge with endless possibilities – creating systems that allow everyone to breathe by making room, so it helps us all.

Note 1 Peter Marris, The Politics of Uncertainty: Attachment in Private and Public Life, New York: Routledge.

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Appendix 1 A model of rights-based community practice1

During a half-century of practice, research, and teaching, I have been engaged in an ongoing, evolving interplay of ideas and actions. The theoretical ideas concern ideology, values, and their expression in both macro and micro issues and the overarching goals to which we aspire. Ideas in practice concern how to promote change and guide techniques of empowerment in a globalized environment where interactions are heightened, inequality expanded, and uncertainty and dislocation rising. Multi-disciplinary theory in the context of practice in a diversity of settings and in different parts of the world has helped me to question and to understand the impact we can have on micro and macro levels. From this and through continual interaction with and inspiration from colleagues in the field evolved a model of rights-based practice that is community-based, academically linked, volunteer-driven, and professionally managed while situated in the heart of diverse, underserved neighborhoods. The story of the establishment of 11 such centers in Israel, Palestine, and Jordan and how it unfolded, the adaptations made, and the links established is the focus of this book. This chapter contextualizes this model as it operationalizes theory and ideology in practice. Ideologies are rooted in values and culture that express the kind of people we are and want to be, the kind of societies we wish to live in, and the nature of relationships we wish to share. Ideology is political. It is not just an expression of ideas or points of view but is linked to both support for and critiques of how society is and prescriptions as to what should be done. Because ideology is political it takes expression in what we chose to do, are compelled to do, or choose not to do. Ideology is linked to power and choice, and, therefore, it is a central pillar of practice. I have experienced too often a disconnect among various ideologies that inform rights-based practitioners and the actual practice undertaken. Too often, the ideologies offered are deterministic, premised on self-interest ruled by capitalism with a Marxist or feminist or intersectionality analysis of how and why this system is maintained. While I believe there is great value in these theories, their application to community practice is often abstract, inaccessible, pessimistic, and promotes cynicism and convenient explanations for why initiatives fail. The very human capacity to come together to promote justice at home, in the environment, or around the world makes no sense according to these ideological paradigms alone, nor do such paradigms guide actions alone.

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The road to change is a long, complex, and often confusing one. It involves making room at the table for other claimants, ideas, and values – upsetting existing orders and power relations. The process of change is certainly not linear nor always predictable. An ideology that is more fluid and that can positively and measurably impact practice is of greater utility. The model of rights-based community practice presented here emerges from an ideological position whereby the overriding public interest is coexistence. Coexistence is defined by Webster as “to live in peace with each other – especially as a matter of policy” (Webster: 1981). Rights-based practice is concerned with the development of a framework and practice that safeguards the rights of all protagonists while promoting equity among claimants. Rather than viewing society as only a function of the interplay of competing interests seeking to promote each one’s material and ideological welfare through domination, coexistence as an ideology imagines the possibility that competing ideologies and interests can be accommodated and that society is capable of moving beyond old dichotomies and of making room for a diversity of ideas, expressions, and beliefs.2 Coexistence opens the lens through which we view ourselves and others. It appreciates that there are other compelling motivations beyond the framework of competition and domination that influence our behavior. Altruism, moral commitments, identity, trust, spirituality, and finding meaning in the choices we make in the moment shape the contours of how we think, what we embrace, and how we act.3 The language of coexistence ideology and the concepts it embraces liberates imagination and potential to consider a multiplicity of options and experiences. It is through the language we use and the concepts we embrace that we develop practice modalities that transform conflict and promote social justice and peace. Dichotomous ideologies view the world as a highly competitive arena where dominant interests – be they individuals, organizations, or regimes – pursue their goals and accumulate and invest resources through the exercise of power in order to maintain the existing order, which benefits the privileged. The exercise of power takes place in hierarchical systems through domination – economic, technological, legal, social, cultural, and even spiritual control. There are winners Table A.1 Terminology Rights-based Practice Coexistence Universality Inclusive Supple Ambiguous Reciprocity Creativity Transformation Win-win scenarios Symmetry

Dichotomous Ideologies Competitiveness Selectivity Exclusive Rigid Polarized Dominant interests Predetermination Conflict Win-lose scenarios Hierarchy

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and losers. Benefits to those who are not of the privileged class are designed to maintain stability and order – necessary for continued domination. As Piven and Cloward wrote,4 public welfare is designed to control the degree of unrest tolerable in a society for a regime to retain its power. Without welfare, people would be totally devoid of means of survival, which would create massive disruption if not outright rebellion against the political order. Too much welfare, however, would also undermine the system by increasing the tax burden on the privileged. Thus, a system of interdependency evolves where order is maintained, a work force stabilized, and social roles respected through inducements whereby those who have little fear to lose the little they have. The more dichotomous the society, the more rigid and predeterministic where rich and poor, men and women, Black, white, brown, Jews, Christians, and Muslims, have their designated place – with scant opportunities to change their status. Order is maintained through economic, social, cultural, and religious sanctions as well as through police, military, and other security forces and through the replication of class and power systems within each sector. Community-based practitioners operating only through this understanding of society offer little to improve it. Consciousness-raising is seen as a key element to engage people’s awareness so that they realize that they are not alone. Small-scale, “nonexploitative” participatory programs are developed to raise levels of skill and ability with minor but significantly important improvements in living conditions. Through education, one becomes free, but freedom has limited scope if all its parameters are constrained by ideological views that frame society in dichotomous, self-interest, win-lose terms. If the powerful exercise control through domination, then only revolt seeking to overthrow the regime or withdrawal from the regime’s influence become the strategies of choice. Notwithstanding the importance of these ideas, globalization and social media have worked together to, at times, undermine them. Control over the flow of information is critical for dominant interests. The mass availability of social media has created links, connections, and support groups of all persuasions throughout the world. Were it not for social media, the Arab Spring may not have burst forth, Black Lives Matter may not have taken root, and our knowledge and concern for the safety of the planet may not have become a global concern. Ideologies and theories of coexistence present a different paradigm. While acknowledging the strength of dominant interests and control, coexistence seeks win-win scenarios where it is possible to find common denominators. To advance this ideological position in practice, four critical dimensions in relationships are necessary: authenticity, respect, inclusion, and reciprocity. Being authentic is to be clear about who you are, why you are there, and what you would like to see. Respect brings with it an openness to other beliefs, ideas, interests, and ways of viewing issues and solutions. Respect also means respect for the integrity of all people, which places limits on acceptable and unacceptable behavior such as violence. Inclusion means that all people have a say and all ideas are open to consideration, and reciprocity is the expectation that all participants have equal opportunities to influence each other.

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Making room requires the articulation and acceptance of paradox and ambiguity.5 A paradox, again as defined by Webster, is “a statement that is seemingly contradictory or opposed to common sense, yet is perhaps true.” In this context, a paradox is a choice where no one solution is necessarily better than another. Consequently, coexistence need not assume uniformity or singularity of direction or purpose. Rather, a variety of expressions, positions, and viewpoints fashioned by and changed by proponents over time create a social context and weave a social fabric whose evolution is enhanced by debate, contest, and experimentation in what Bennet Berger has called “ideological work”; the refurbishing of ideology in light of experience.6 Coexistence contains moments of surprise, curiosity, and flexibility – an appreciation of the unorthodox – an ability to innovate, to seize the moment, to be open to new knowledge, possibilities, ideas, coalitions, alliances, and permeable boundaries. Stated paradoxically in the Ionesco play Rhinoceros: “There are so many different sides to reality, all you have to do is pick one to escape.”7 Coexistence can be conceptualized as a dynamic, fluid, and changing process of exchange and interchange. Exchange theory posits change as a process in which players interact in order to secure their desired ends through the exchange of scarce resources. According to exchange theory, resources such as status, money, information, goods, and services are valued according to their degree of scarcity. Serious players are those who have the requisite chips to bring to the table. Those with few resources are on the sidelines – observers of a game which they are unable to influence.8 Within this very useful analytic tool, conflict is essential to bring about a more equitable – or, in the language of rights-based practice, more reciprocal – set of exchanges. To quote the great abolitionist and women’s rights advocate – Frederick Douglass: “The whole history of the progress of human liberty shows that all concessions yet made to her August claims have been born of earnest struggle. Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did, and it never will.”9 Coexistence theory adds to the dynamic possibilities involved in exchange by emphasizing the importance of non-monetary resource accumulation and that people are not singularly guided by self-interest but also seek meaning in their lives, ascribe to a sense of justice and decency, are motivated by faith, and understand that there is much more to life than the accumulation of material possessions. By recognizing these aspects of our common humanity, it provides an understanding in exchange theory terms that alliances can be created among people of different classes, cultures, and beliefs by focusing on shared values. Indeed, social movements require broad legitimacy to become recognized, and it is therefore not surprising that spiritual leaders are often the face of early social movements – be they from the left or the right, because they appeal to overarching values. At heart of this idea is that significant social change happens when it is absorbed into the societal fabric, and this requires reaching out, engaging, and building alliances with people from the diversity of the entire community – including those who oppose your efforts. Getting a public discussion going will find people who support the same ideas but would not have encountered them without an attempt

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to reach out to them. They will move the discussion along among people in their lives, and this is how private troubles become public issues. Coexistence then accepts the necessity and utility of conflict and the creative possibilities that can emerge from it. In balancing rights and obligations and individual and collective rights, conflict and empowerment are understood as key aspects of a fluid process. Coexistence assumes struggle as part of a process of societal transformation in which it is possible to work toward a global society where there is enough to go around and a balance can be achieved, which makes sufficient room for everyone. To do so, coexistence reshapes the language of discourse. It rethinks dichotomies in terms of parallel processes, it favors inclusiveness rather than exclusiveness, it prefers suppleness to rigidity, ambiguity to polarization, and creativity to predetermination.10

Underlying principles of rights-based practice Coexistence, however, is not a vague, unconditional state of societal nirvana. It requires structure – even ambiguity has structure. Coexistence is rooted in three fundamental principles derived from both law and social work that utilize empowerment and advocacy as necessary tools for their realization. The first principle is that of universality – that fundamental entitlements must be universally guaranteed, comprehensive, accessible, and judicable. The second is the principle of reciprocity – that individuals and groups interact with each other with the expectation that they have equal opportunity to influence each other. The third principle is inclusion – that every person has the right to share in every aspect of her or his environment in a manner that respects individual differences. The principles of inclusion, universality, and reciprocity express the premise that all people share the same rights. The principle of universality is defined as “pertaining to all without exception.”11 It refers to rights that apply to all and that are rendered in a manner accessible to all. Modern states have been more inclined to explicitly recognize individual rights such as personal freedoms of speech, assembly, and mobility than they are to recognize economic and social rights. Social rights such as the right to basic income have not been sufficiently recognized in the Canadian charter or in other countries. Here, contentious issues of individual and collective responsibility, costs and who shoulders these costs, as well as basic values and assumptions regarding relationships, behavior, and the role of government converge. Human rights advocates acknowledge that these are difficult issues but contend that, although the boundaries of universality shift and undergo redefinition, social rights must be at a sufficient level to allow all people to exercise their fundamental individual liberties – which themselves are more explicitly defined in the Canadian Charter and United States Constitution.12 The second principle of rights-based practice is reciprocity. Webster notes that to reciprocate “is to imply mutuality and a reasonably equivalent exchange.” Reciprocal relationships are characterized by voluntary association, the absence of hierarchy, a sense of mutuality, and a respect for individuality. From the

Appendix 1 335 perspective of rights-based practice, reciprocity is enhanced in relationships that are symmetrical rather than hierarchical. The more symmetrical the relationship, the more voluntary it is. The more voluntary, the more one can maximize individual choice. The more one maximizes choice in relationship, the greater the degree of reciprocity. The greater the degree of reciprocity, the more one has opportunities to give, receive, and influence.13 John Rawls, in A Theory of Justice, made the link between reciprocity and universality. Those who have been favored by nature, whoever they are, may gain from their good fortune only on terms that improve the situation of those who have lost out. No one deserves his greater natural capacity nor merits a more favorable starting place in society.14 The third principle of inclusion recognizes difference and individuality. It is committed to the removal of arbitrary restrictions. Inclusion provides specific protection and recognition of the individual’s right to participate.15 So basic is the concept of inclusion to human rights that both the Quebec and Canadian charters of rights specifically prohibit the exclusion of persons in its anti-discrimination clauses. Societies that value universality and reciprocity are more likely to be inclusive. The understanding of this relationship has long been a tenet of social work practice. Bertha Reynolds, for example, wrote back in 1934 that social work can “preserve its integrity only if the processes of social change lead us to an organization of society in which the interests of all are safe-guarded through the participation of all in political and economic power.”16 Promoting coexistence is a slow and nonlinear process often accompanied by conflict. “If there is no struggle, there is no progress,” stated Fredrick Douglass. “Those who profess to favor freedom and yet deprecate agitation are people who want crops without ploughing the ground.”17 Ploughing the ground requires a process of empowerment and understanding of the complex, multi-layered nature of disentitlement.

Disentitlement, empowerment, and rights-based practice We continuously interact with other individuals, communities, institutions, and political systems, and these complex interactions disentitle or empower. A theory of rights-based practice recognizes the intersectionality of these levels through a theory of disentitlement and prescribes a holistic method of practice to address it.

Toward a theory of disentitlement Disentitlement is a process through which persons lose the ability to access rights and influence relationships. Disentitlement occurs on four interrelated levels: the personal, the communal, the institutional, and the political. Dimensions of

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law, relationships, and social processes are involved at each of these levels, and together they structure disentitlement.18 Personal disentitlement is expressed when people believe, act, or feel that they do not deserve equal treatment, that benefits and rights do not apply to them, and that they lack the resources or capacity to stand up for them.19 Substantial literature points to the debilitating and systematic effects of poverty, which are reinforced by self-perceptions by individuals that they are unable to change their conditions and, consequently, are not able to adjust to them. In the process, welfare recipients often blame themselves for their own poverty and accept the notion that poverty is a consequence of their own defects, lack of motivation, lethargy, or plain bad luck. Victims of family violence often blame themselves. Internalizing misfortune is often the only reaction that disadvantaged persons have in the face of systematic disentitlement. At least there is some measure of control to be had by blaming oneself when one feels unable to change circumstances. Communal disentitlement occurs when most persons constituting the same reference group do not receive sufficient resources or are excluded from influencing decisions that affect their collective welfare. Communities like these often lack economic power or cohesiveness and are fragmented socially and politically. Disentitled communities are ones in which people are alienated from each other as well as from their institutions, where there is a low degree of reciprocity and few and meagre resources.20 It creates a context that fosters fundamentalism and violence. Institutional disentitlement deals with issues of access and bureaucratic discretion as forms of rationing that limit the availability of resources despite legal provisions to the contrary.21 Institutional disentitlement occurs when persons are unable to access entitlements that are available to them by law. Inaccessibility takes many forms. First, centralization, specialization, and service fragmentation result in services being located far from the communities in which they are needed, or they are not linked in a coherent network. Second, as a result of cutbacks, there are fewer resources anywhere. Consequently, those who need services the most find them lacking, cannot get to them, or must go to a variety of places to have these needs met. Second, resources may be inaccessible psychologically, linguistically, and culturally. That is, the nature of bureaucracy; the fear of state authority experienced particularly by immigrants; refugees, and the elderly; and the dearth of persons employed in these bureaucracies who understand, speak the language of, or represent the communities and cultures with which service claimants identify, create barriers to access. If persons feel unwelcome or not understood or if they lack information about the nature of their entitlements or how to access them, they become disentitled.22 When this happens, according to Ann Withorn, “services have been provided so poorly .  .  . to keep people from recognizing them and demanding them as rights.”23 Third, disentitlement can occur bureaucratically through the exercise of discretionary powers, which, according to Lipsky, take the form of cutbacks that “structure the relationship of the citizen to the state and take the symbolic form of “signalling” to low-income citizens that their interests are now of less concern to the general public and, thus, they should expect less.”24

Appendix 1 337 Political disentitlement occurs when laws and regulations are discriminatory, contain arbitrary restrictions, and bestow privilege on one group over another. As well, people become disentitled – if not disenfranchised – when legislation does not provide them with minimum levels of support, when previous levels of entitlement are reduced, or when conditions of eligibility are tightened. Gewirth stated this view as follows: A government violates human rights when its hands-off policy lets the most vulnerable members of society suffer harms and injuries like poverty, disease, illiteracy or unemployment, which it can take measures to prevent or alleviate such ills and when the person affected cannot ward them off by their own efforts.25 When people lack opportunities to shape and influence events, to participate in decisions relating to their fundamental welfare, beliefs, and aspirations, they become alienated from the society around them, and this alienation is another manifestation of political disentitlement. This becomes evident when people are not sufficiently represented in government and in judicial and administrative decision-making processes and lack control over decisions that affect their community. Pushed to the extreme, such environments foster violence and instability.26 A theory of disentitlement operationalizes the agenda for rights-based practice. That is, it views inequality because of the interlocking effect of political, institutional, communal, and personal disentitlement. Tools of empowerment appropriate to each of these levels are essential elements of a model of rights-based practice.

Tools of empowerment Empowerment is a process where people gain an ability to influence relationships and act independently. These relationships are personal, communal, institutional, and political, and they are influenced among other processes by the exchange of resources.27 On a personal level, resources are both internal and external. Internally, they relate to personal power, self-confidence, trust, and identity, which reflect inner strength, personal security, values, and experience.28 These internal resources interact with external ones such as money, goods and services, legitimacy, information, and status. The combined effect empowers, promotes independence, and facilitates risk-taking.29 Often, in diverse communities or those experiencing high degrees of transiency, there is little opportunity for people from different backgrounds to discover commonalities or common purpose. Rather, people tend to operate within their own family, tribe, and ethnic group while feeling their apartness from the “others” who share the same communal space. Public schools are one of the few institutions where they may educate significantly diverse schoolchildren, and this too can be encouraged or discouraged by political decisions.

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It is not uncommon, however, to witness the tremendous capacity of people to respond together, to help each other, and to save each other, as in the collective response to natural disasters such as the 2017 floods in Houston. In every culture there are unique words for voluntarism and helping others that have deep roots and express themselves in countless daily acts of kindness, courage, and care. Coexistence through rights-based practice believes that we are all enriched individually and collectively by promoting knowledge, awareness, and understanding among diverse people who occupy the same space and to actively promote solidarity and common purpose among them. Harnessing the voluntary collective capacity of diverse groups empowers and transforms. Communal reciprocity is enhanced through the identification of commonalities, by organizing around issues that unite people rather than issues that divide them, and by developing democratic, autonomous organizations that are reflective of inclusive values. Promoting communal reciprocity among people takes place through techniques rooted in social work practice. Consciousness-raising, self-help groups, and community organizations are examples of these.30 Promoting greater reciprocity and access to resources is an objective of rightsbased practice, as it is an expression of an ideology of coexistence. On a community level as well as an institutional level, rights-based practice seeks to promote greater reciprocity among people and between people and the institutions that serve them. Reciprocity with institutions is promoted by ensuring access, outreach, and participation in decision-making processes related to public institutions.31 Empowerment occurs on a political level when people become participants in decisions that affect them and can reciprocally influence them.32 These four levels of disentitlement necessitate a model of practice that empowers at each level – while making connections in practice between the individual, the communal, the institutional, and the political. Practice connections are realized through the active participation of residents, as there can be no empowerment without it. Participation in our model is not just at the level of action but in determining policy and in the governance of the organization itself. Our centers are membership organizations. Membership is offered to persons who have been active volunteers for three months. Members elect the board and committees that determine policy, budget, and program. Participation is both a means and an end in rights-based practice. It is by getting involved with other people who share similar concerns that individuals change from supplicants to empowered activists. It is through participation in the development of democratic organizations that empowerment becomes realized, civil society enriched, and public discourse deepened. Participation can be active or passive and is influenced by sense of self, culture, economic pressures, and social roles. Achieving empowerment and participation requires different ideas, expressions, and methods in each cultural context society. It is through it that the life rhythm of the community takes expression. The following table conceptualizes these four levels of disentitlement and corresponding tools of empowerment.

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Table A.2 Personal, communal, institutional and political processes of disentitlement and empowerment Disentitlement

Tools of Empowerment

PERSONAL – Unworthiness – Self-blame – Guilt – Apathy – Hopelessness – Violence – Alienation – Supplicant

– Self-respect – Confidence – Purposefulness – Determination – Optimism – Resourcefulness – Belonging – Claimant

COMMUNAL – Inadequate resources – Insufficient organizations – Fragmentation – Isolated – Exploited

– Numerous, various resources – Multiplicity of organizations – Coalitions, democratic groups – Linked, joined – Cooperative

INSTITUTIONAL – Inaccessible – Unaccountable – Restrictive – Paternalistic/hierarchical

– Accessible – Accountable – Open – Participatory

POLITICAL – Lack of influence – Unrepresentative – Patronage – Corrupt

– Influential – Participatory – Inclusive – Transparent

Operationalizing these concepts in a model of rights-based community practice is based on the following assumptions. 1

2

A model of rights-based practice must be interdisciplinary and is intrinsically linked to both law and social work. These two disciplines provide structure to relationships, and as such, their language concerns rights and obligations. Law and social work as well are concerned with conceptual and practice frameworks, which enhance and delineate a sense of self and a sense of entitlement and empowerment. This sense of self is reinforced by social roles that validate or stigmatize, legitimate or alienate the things that people do and the rights that they claim. The ability to actualize legal rights, then, is related to the strengths of one’s relationships. Thus, law and social work are intrinsically linked in rights-based practice. A model of rights-based practice must intervene in a way that responds to the personal, the communal, the institutional, and the political aspects of disentitlement by having a direct impact on the individual and the collective levels. It is through this holistic process that social change and transformation take

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Table A.3 Selected Characteristics of a Model of Community Rights-based Practice: Ideology Fundamental Theoretical Concepts Application

Fundamental Practice Constructs Action Strategies

3

Coexistence Universality Reciprocity Inclusion Individual Communal Institutional Political Access Organizing Participation Outreach Storefront advocacy centers Organization of community-based groups Legal Advocacy Participation Policy Analysis

place. It brings together the personal and the political and seeks to empower and promote reciprocity within and among these four levels. A model of rights-based practice aspires to advance the principles of reciprocity, universality, and inclusion in each of its activities and in a coherent way, which creates a recognizable and distinct practice. That is, a model of practice is more than a set of skills. What makes something a model is that it seeks to operationalize its central principles and values in each of its activities.

All models of practice are shaped by their political, social, cultural, and economic context. The book describes how this model of practice was adapted in three different countries in the Middle East – each with a distinctive and unique context. Each center was built on the same three fundamental practice constructs: access, organizing and participation, and six associated action strategies. These are presented in Table A.3.

Outreach Outreach expresses the relationship between rights-based practice and the community. It exemplifies reciprocity by reaching out to people in their environments – in their homes, streets, meetings, and stores – in order to understand the community from the perspective of people who live there. Through outreach, one gets a holistic view of a community – its assets and strengths as well as its weaknesses. Without this perspective, social workers have a distorted perspective of the community they wish to serve. When seeing “clients” individually in agency offices, the social worker is likely to see the person at their weakest, most dependent, disentitled moment. People who feel empowered are less likely to require social work services, and the same person who may appear weak and dependent in seeking out help

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for a particular problem may demonstrate many strengths and even leadership in situations outside the agency’s purview. Seeing the context in which people live opens up possibilities of support outside the agency resources. Initial outreach takes place on two parallel tracts: research and experience. There is always accessible data – census material, local newspapers, bulletins from different organizations, research studies that have been conducted by university students, etc. In rights-based practice we want to know all this information before talking to people. This enables us to get a broad view of the community – how many people live there, are they renters or homeowners, what is the ethnic and linguistic mix, what are the levels of income and unemployment, how many single parents, and how many elderly people live in the community? What does the local paper cover? What is making news? What services are offered and exchanged? What are the community organizations and public institutions that serve this community doing? Data such as this will provide a broad picture and a beginning understanding of the community. This is particularly important in establishing reciprocity. All too often, people conduct research projects about a community and never get back to them, and the community never sees any useful outcome from the study and the time they gave to it by participating. To establish reciprocity, we need a basis of discussion – an exchange. The more informed we are, the more capable we are of carrying out reciprocal conversations with people because we have some knowledge to come in with. In parallel, community organizers experience the community directly. Walk the streets, have lunch at a local restaurant, buy something at a local store, get a haircut locally, attend community meetings or religious services. Let people see you, know you, and begin to accept you. While you do this, keep your eyes open and learn to understand the community’s rhythm, culture, and ways of thinking. Outreach confirms that people do things for good reasons. What may appear as problematic to an outsider might make perfect sense from the inside. For example, outsiders may often be critical of communities where there are numerous, fragmented organizations and believe that the road to empowerment consists of creating one entity out of these diverse groups. While there is truth to the idea of strength in numbers and broad representation, there are many reasons why numerous, small organizations come into being. These groups often represent kinship or ethnic or religious identification, and, even when they do not, they are a place where people are able to exercise some degree of self-determination, control, and power, which is not possible in larger organizations. Seeking to merge these groups undercuts these important functions and often results in internal political disarray. Rather, building on the positive role these groups play can generate a wide array of potential relationships among these organizations where they retain their uniqueness and work together in coalitions. Through outreach, you can observe patterns of reciprocity – neighborliness and interaction in parks and streets – and listen, for example, if residents describe “the local school” or “our local school.” Is law enforcement seen as friend or foe; are there organizations that “belong to us”? All this takes time and ought not be rushed.

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The late Danilo Dolci, a renowned community organizer and peace activist, decided to explore his roots in his native Sicily after having been imprisoned as a conscientious objector – refusing to serve in Mussolini’s army during World War II. He worked with fishermen, asking two questions “Can things change?” and “How can things change?” “It became clear that I was the one needing and wearing glasses” (personal interview, Montreal 1977). During this year-long experience, Dolci was under the radar of powerful groups. Over time, he questioned the Sicilian proverb, “The man who plays alone never loses” and began to develop a new consciousness with a new proverb “The man who plays alone, never wins.” Over the years, Dolci was able to challenge both the Mafia – who controlled the distribution of water – and the corrupt political system and brought about unparalleled change in the social and economic life of ordinary Sicilians. At a certain point, organizers need to explain why they are there and what they hope to accomplish and convey this message to local leaders and institutions. Authenticity is required – be honest about your purpose but noncommittal about who your allies will be. On the one hand, you want to reach all groups. On the other, you know that there will be rivalry and leadership competition in any community, and you will be seen as a potential asset. From the outset, authenticity requires a straightforward message, which is that you want to be an asset for everyone, and therefore you want to gain the perspectives of all about how they see the community’s needs and what ought to be done about. I have encountered people who position themselves as leaders, promise a lot, and later turn out not to have any following at all. Rather, an effective leader is going to be careful, will want to test you out, see if you are authentic and what your “real” agenda is. People with a following and a history are not going to just hand that over to someone just entering the community. A central purpose in conducting outreach is to identify issues that will bring people together from diverse backgrounds because of a shared common goal. This means, for example, initially avoiding certain issues that may be important but are divisive. Issues like these can be addressed only when there is some beginning history of the diverse groups working together on a joint objective. It is always important to identify more than one issue in order to attract different segments of the community. My experience has been to try to move ahead with three issues, following the adage “one goes fast, one goes slow, and one doesn’t go at all.” To widen the circle of reciprocity and inclusion, we must widen the potential sphere of activity. The most direct form of outreach is what we call “door-knocking” – knocking on doors of people’s homes, hoping to be invited in and having an opportunity to start a discussion. Door-knocking is premised on the four guiding principles mentioned earlier: respect, authenticity, reciprocity, and inclusion. Respect requires us to know and be respectful of the cultural or religious traditions of the people who live behind the doors you will be knocking on. It is disrespectful to knock on doors of people who are celebrating religious holidays. Nor is it respectful – or at all useful – to send men to door-knock in certain communities at a time when there is no adult male on the premises. It is usually best

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to door-knock in teams of one man and one woman, as this is traditionally most accepted. Besides, two men can make women apprehensive to open their doors, and two women, if they do not know the community, are often apprehensive, not knowing who they are going to meet when they knock on doors. The purpose is to be as relaxed as possible and put the other person at ease. Dressing in ways appropriate to the sensibilities of the people you want to meet will help open doors or at least not keep them shut. Respect means that we understand that people are very busy and that most people do not like to receive random, unexpected knocks at the door. Therefore, in advance of door-knocking it is important to distribute a flyer in each of the mailboxes that states who you are, when you will be stopping by, and the purpose of your visit. The flyer should have a phone number and an address on it as well as the auspices – who is behind this approach. Most people don’t read flyers they find in the mailbox, and many people even have “no flyers” stickers. So, don’t assume that the flyer had been read or remembered, but you can refer to it without putting the other person ill at ease for not having read it. Techniques I have used were along the lines: “I left this flyer in your mailbox and if you are busy like me, you probably don’t remember it. (always with a smile). Could you perhaps invite me in and I can tell you about it?” If the person says they are busy or if they appear preoccupied, try to set another time to go back to visit. It often takes several attempts before you get in the door. After all, people will have natural concerns about what you “are selling.” Patience, flexibility, respect, and hard work eventually get you to where you want to be. Respect also means being open to ideas and perspectives that you hadn’t considered or even those with which you disagree. Your purpose is to understand what people believe in order to see if you can find common ground. It means appreciating the talents and skills that people have, which can be useful in organizational roles and fulfilling to the participants. It is essential to be authentic when door-knocking. It is an unusual experience for someone to come to your door seeking to help and not selling brushes, vacation getaways, religion, or subscriptions. You must act authentically and relaxed. If you are not relaxed, you are not concentrating on the person you are speaking to, and you won’t appear authentic. Door-knocking beginners are often too mindful of getting through their script, so rehearse your script with your team member and role play before trying it for the first time. Know that you will make mistakes and that your techniques will improve. To be authentic, you must have a clear yet flexible message that conveys why you are there and what you are seeking. While door-knocking you may come across individuals who ask for assistance or, as has often been my experience, talk about a friend’s problem – not wanting to disclose themselves. You must be prepared to respond through referral and follow up, advocacy to help get through the system, or coordination between services. Rights-based practitioners do not believe in abandoning the individual and any issue confronting him/her for the sake of the collective organizing effort. We establish legitimacy by responding authentically to human crisis.

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There are collective reasons to do door-knocking as well. It is a direct way of identifying and conceptualizing collective issues by learning from people about what concerns them the most. People’s concerns are usually immediate and practical. In Côte-des-Neiges these were issues related to their apartments and street safety. In Amman, the issues were lack of running water seven days a week and the cleaning up of an abandoned building being used as a drug den. Rights-based practice responds to the immediate concerns but frames them as a matter of rights and identifies the public or private body negligent in respecting them. The vision resides in the empowerment process in dealing with these daily issues, which leads to a more enriched civil society. Door-knocking is also a prime method of recruitment of volunteers for specific programs that already exist or that you are testing out or at the storefront, which will be discussed in the following section. Recruitment is the first step in empowerment as it gives voice to the talents and abilities of people to work for the collective good through their own efforts and commitments. Door-knocking is also a way to publicize activities, upcoming community forums, and public events, as well as the work of other organizations. Be authentic. Never make promises you won’t keep. The desire to help cannot outweigh what you might accomplish. Involve the person in implementing solutions. You can pledge your commitment – but not necessarily the results. Arrange for follow-up within a reasonably quick time frame. If there is a meeting planned, organize it relatively quickly. If it is case advocacy, follow up quickly. Rights-based practitioners go beyond referral. Reciprocity is achieved through respect, which is expressed in an exchange where both you and the person you are talking to have equal opportunities to influence each other. Reciprocity also means that both sides get to give and get to receive. Figuring out what that might be and how it might take shape in the context of organizational efforts is part of the artistry of rights-based practice. How we link people to causes in which they contribute and benefit from their contribution is the mainstay of the approach. Participation is necessary and always voluntary. Giving voice to discontent is vital, but most people don’t want to stay there. They want to go beyond their anger and find solutions, and the process of finding solutions both empowers and provokes a broader vision. Always summarize what has been discussed, what the next steps are if there are any, what the expectations of each are, and how they feel about it. Inclusion as expressed in door-knocking concerns where you knock, when you knock, and how you make room for diverse participation. It is impossible to knock on every door in a community. By the time you had accomplished this, you would have to turn around and start all over again because it had taken so long to do it. Begin with an overview of the diversity of the community and then decide where to door-knock to be as inclusive as possible. Multi-ethnic communities, for example, might have certain areas where particular ethnic groups live or congregate. Neighborhoods have areas where the more affluent and less well-off live. Commercial areas where some stores might cater to certain groups and some where everybody shops. The idea of inclusion is that everybody counts, and while

Appendix 1 345 we can’t cover it all, we can make sure we gain expression from the diversity of the community. When you door-knock is equally important in promoting inclusion. To reach the elderly, the sick or the disabled, or young housebound mothers it is best to do door-knocking during day time. To reach working families, single parents, students, and working individuals, it is usually better to door-knock in the evening. Outreach is an ongoing function. It is utilized not just to introduce new services to the community, but it is an ongoing aspect of rights-based practice that embodies the notion of reciprocity. When an organization looks for the “client,” when it seeks to understand the community and its evolving dynamics from the perspective of residents, when it popularizes rights through door-to-door canvassing, when it recruits volunteers by going to them, and when it renews its relationship with the community as a continual aspect of its practice, the organization and its staff fashion a rapport with the community, which is quite different than one found in traditional agencies. Such activity promotes inclusion, reciprocity, and access to universal entitlements.

Storefront advocacy centers A storefront advocacy center aspires to be the heart and hub of the community. It does so by putting in practice the values of universality, reciprocity, and inclusion in its location, physical design, activities, and structure. To begin with, it is preferable that the storefront be at street level and on a main street. Normalizing rights takes expression when a storefront is located where people regularly congregate and in a storefront that encourages walk-ins and window shopping. By situating the operations in a street-level storefront, it becomes accessible not only psychologically but also physically and thereby promotes inclusion. The physical setting of the storefront signals to the community that a reciprocal relationship is being sought that will promote inclusion of all its residents. It establishes an important symbol that democratic, rights-based organizations, if they are to succeed, must belong to all and, through its very location, facilitates interaction among groups of people who tend to live side-by-side while not necessarily knowing each other. For example, a storefront location, housed between fruit and vegetable stands, small shops, and on central bus lines, attracts curiosity and familiarity. Locating exactly where people walk each day invites people to come in and physically integrates rights-based practice in the context of people’s lives. Locating in a storefront at street level with an inviting reception area, comfortable furniture, posters on the wall alongside an accessible bulletin board, and a welcoming atmosphere avoids the sterility of many public institutions that physically “look down” on people – perched several flights above them while enveloped by antiseptic and often intimidating waiting rooms. Visible from the reception area will be several desks with volunteer advocates at each one. There are no “private cubicles” in which the “client” disappears to be surrounded by government-approved partitions. At a storefront, the lamp on

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the table might likely have been donated, cookies on the table baked and brought from home, and the magazines on the reception table well-worn. This approach works even better when securing a storefront is the result of an organizing process and members of the community play a leading role in finding the location, negotiating its rent, and securing and donating furniture. The storefront serves as a walk-in center providing immediate information, referral, and advocacy in accessing entitlements and receiving existing services. In addition to its physical location, a second distinctive feature is that the range of issues that the storefront deals with is based on the needs of residents. For a model of rights-based practice to be effective it must be inclusive of the varied and various issues that disadvantaged persons experience in accessing entitlements. This is necessary in order to be responsive to the actual community needs rather than to promote only a particular field of specialization. Specialization creates fragmentation, fragmentation requires coordination, and through coordination features of bureaucratic behavior are created that do not enhance the ability of people to access their rights. Moreover, fragmentation tends to ghettoize problems. As an inclusive strategy, the organization addresses a central reality and common denominator – that is the struggle of people to negotiate complex bureaucracies to access entitlements needed for survival and to enhance daily life. The problem area may differ from person to person, but the storefront is seen as a place where all people can go, irrespective of the kind of problem or the kind of background the individual comes from. They can include everything from worker’s compensation, disability rights, medical rights, access to information, the needs of the elderly, education, criminal justice, housing, and welfare. A third distinctive feature of the storefront advocacy centers is that the service is principally carried out by volunteers who, having been recruited from the community, undergo extensive formal training as advocates. A certificate training program affiliated with a university normally consists of 12 sessions. These begin with an overall understanding of the model, its philosophy, and its ideology. This is followed by sessions that cover a range of interpersonal skills such as listening skills, learning not to be judgmental, and learning not to do for people but to provide them, wherever possible, the tools so that they can advocate for themselves. In addition, several sessions deal with advocacy skills – how to approach bureaucracies and services, preparations, and advanced research techniques and skills. Other sessions concern substantive content of key problem areas such as housing and welfare. This is accompanied by on-the-job training where new volunteers sit in with experienced ones in assisting people who seek our help. At the conclusion of the training course, graduates are honored – usually at a ceremony at the university. They then become storefront advocates who, on average, volunteer a half-day a week. The volunteers are largely drawn from the diversity of languages, cultures, genders, and age groupings in the community. The idea is that through the provision of these services by a diverse volunteer group residents will find someone in the storefront who thinks, looks, and speaks like them; who is able to understand the particular dynamics of culture, language, and gender around seeking help and

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dealing with authority; and who is familiar with their homeland or tribe or relatives. This promotes inclusion. Reciprocity through volunteer service provision is manifested by citizens assisting each other by passing along knowledge and skills in an organizational context. Reciprocity begets reciprocity, relationships expand, bonds deepen, and a collective neighborhood identity is fostered. It is self-evident that the greater the reciprocity in civic life the more empowered the community will be. There is a wealth of resources and know-how in every community that is waiting to be tapped. It needs to be organized, and through this, the storefront becomes both the hub and a microcosm of community life. Rights-based practice seeks to continually widen arenas for participation that match volunteer interests and strengths with organizational needs. For example, if a volunteer does not have requisite abilities to be an advocate, the role of receptionist – answering the phone, welcoming people as they come in the door, and making them comfortable is an equally valuable role and sets the tone. The importance here is that each volunteer has equal value. When people from different backgrounds and ways of life sit side-by-side helping others, exchanging information and experiences and when these volunteers are connected as equal members in the same organization, reciprocity and individual and communal empowerment are enhanced. Accessing rights becomes as much a part of the public discourse as does exchanging information as to where the best deals are, who is having sales, and the quality of the merchandise. This popularization of rights extends well beyond the storefront and never gets reflected in organizational statistics. People talk to each other and exchange information on the bus, at school, at the local store, pharmacy, hairdresser, or laundromat. Rights travel. The storefront methodology is imbued in empowerment practice from the moment of contact. Where possible, customers or consumers (not clients) will be invited to sit at a round desk where advisor and customer can look at material together and side by side. The volunteer will advise rather than do for the person seeking assistance. If a letter needs to be written in an official language with which the customer is not fluent, then the advisor will work with the person to compose the letter, first in their native language and then provide the translation. If a call needs to be made to a public agency, the advisor will ask the customer to make the call herself with the advisor there and at her ready. If she needs accompaniment to an agency, the advisor will first seek out if the person has a friend or relative who can go with her for support. Only when all these techniques fail will the advisor act for – and as much as possible with – the person or their representative. It is not unusual to find someone entering our storefront advocacy centers seeking help and returning the next day to enroll in an advisor training course. The process of storefront advising is a learning process. An advisor may not know the answer and should say this to the consumer while seeking out the answer together with her. Knowledge and skill are acquired, and the idea is to advance these for the advisor, the consumer, the organization, and the community as a whole. Services and entitlements become demystified, and citizens engage with public institutions as knowledgeable, rights-bearing individuals seeking solutions.

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In each of my experiences in initiating storefront advocacy centers, I have been met with concerns about a lack of volunteer professionalism. Indeed, there are issues and services that are well beyond the purview of ordinary people and for which professionals are trained – such as measures of disability, severe mental health issues, disease requiring medical attention, or issues needing family therapy or child protection. But the broad range of day to day issues with which citizens engage and around which form a collective identity do not require advanced training or skill. They require access, information, and knowledge. Although there has often been initial resistance by professionals and their management to this participatory, volunteer-driven, rights-based approach, professionals and their agencies come to appreciate dealing with consumers who are informed and knowledgeable. It saves a lot of time. It defuses potentially explosive situations when both provider and consumer can look at regulations and eligibility together As the storefront advocacy center develops its expertise, it codifies its knowledge base so that it becomes accessible to all. At first, we compiled resource manuals that were organized by issue (health, welfare, housing, unemployment, etc.) and cross-referenced by service providers. We would list what the organization does, its location, phone numbers, services, as well as people to contact there with whom we had worked before and how to approach them. These manuals were contained in loose-leaf binders that could be updated as per changes in legislation or at particular services. Each volunteer would have a copy at their desk. Today, these have been replaced by computers, which requires some computer literacy by volunteers but renders the information far more accessible and easier to cross-reference and edit. Storefront advocacy centers require legal expertise. Advisors and advocates require training in substantive legal issues in order to provide coherent advice. To do so, “legalese” needs to be translated into everyday language accessible to advisors and consumers. This practice is a further step in popularizing rights. As well, some issues are beyond the scope of advisors and require consultation with a lawyer. Third, legal advice is helpful in terms of formulating advocacy strategies and policy change. Storefront advocacy centers provide only legal advice, not legal representation. Legal advice clinics need to be carefully planned in order to support and not undermine volunteer advocacy as, given the choice, a consumer would rather see “the expert lawyer” than their neighbor who is a volunteer advisor. The strategy, therefore, needs to be to popularize necessary legal knowledge in ways that advisors can utilize and put in practice. For legal issues that require extensive legal expertise, the centers operate a part-time, by-appointment legal information clinic. Decisions as to who gets referred to a lawyer, the kind of ongoing training required for volunteers, and their coordination requires professional backup and solid administration. Neil Gilbert once wrote that “the rich get expertise and the poor get participation.” Storefront advocacy centers provide both. Studies and experience reveal that it is a certain kind of professional who thrives in this environment, who enjoys the diversity, the challenge, and is committed to this

Appendix 1 349 rights-based ideology and practice. Others seek out a collegial environment with a critical mass of professionals, where the public might be consulted and where there is a conformity to institutional norms and, of course, the pay is better and the jobs more secure. We each have to know what our degree of comfort is and what our needs are, but, most importantly, we should know what we are getting into and what we believe in. Staffing at a storefront advocacy center is meant to be minimal because of the idea of promoting rights through volunteer advising and because staff increases drastically impact the cost of maintaining the organization and therefore the time commitment devoted to grant-writing over innovation. To begin with, our storefront centers have a coordinator who recruits volunteers, staffs committees, and provides training, professional backup, and ongoing supervision. She will make referrals to the legal information clinic. Storefront advocacy centers ought to always have a professional on the premises who can provide backup to citizens as well as insurance requirements. By assisting in the storefront for three consecutive months, volunteers become members of the storefront committee as well as members of the rights-based practice center organization as a whole. This committee meets frequently – in some organizations and at some stages on a weekly basis. The meetings have multiple purposes. They are organized to provide ongoing training and updates about the organization, to honor a particular creative intervention by a volunteer as well as social occasions – a necessary and vital mix of work and pleasure. Members elect the board, so it is not surprising to have witnessed a customer become an advisor and then be elected to the board. The storefront and the organization altogether require solid administrative leadership, as a great deal of coordination is required. Record keeping, kept to a minimum, is necessary in order to provide follow-up and cover for the likelihood that a different volunteer will pick up the file from the one who last dealt with it. Coordination among staff, volunteers, community groups, and service providers through participatory management is a necessarily time-consuming and ongoing task. Storefront advocacy centers provide unique field work and research opportunities for students from a variety of disciplines who often work in interdisciplinary teams. Students at our centers have backgrounds in law, social work, medicine, public policy and administration, architecture, engineering, education, theology, and gender studies. These are not only opportunities for students to gain firsthand, street-level experience with what is happening on the ground but to make a contribution to its improvement, which can have a lifelong impact on career choices and professional values. Students encounter customers reciprocally and not judgmentally and express solidarity with those communities who have the least access to academic institutions, not by studying or diagnosing them but by seeing their reality at eye level and making a difference. All these activities promote access and provide examples of how the principles of universality, reciprocity, and inclusion are fostered in a storefront advocacy center. Entitlements become more universal when people are aware of their

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rights and learn how to access them. Relationships become more reciprocal when knowledge is popularized in a way that helps people assist themselves. Inclusion is also fostered because of the array of issues it deals with and by generating a pool of volunteers who among them speak a diversity of languages and dialects and represent the breadth of community life. It is a principal organizational investment, and, although enormously cost-effective, it is a complex enterprise requiring leadership, skill, and ongoing commitment.

Participation The main focus of these outreach, storefront, and community organizing activities is the participation of those affected in a broadening circle of community members, service providers, and the public at large. Participation is both method and outcome in rights-based practice. Participating in decisions that affect one’s life, one’s community, one’s institutions, and one’s society is a fundamental right as well as an essential tool of empowerment that becomes operationalized in rightsbased practice. Through participation, ICAN centers seek to transform relationships to more reciprocal ones as part of a process of empowerment. Supplicants become claimants of rights, claimants become advocates, and some advocates become leaders through their participation at these centers. To accomplish this, volunteers perform essential organizational roles through storefront advocacy assistance, conduct outreach and home advocacy services for elderly shut-ins, and are at the core of all community-organizing activity. Professional organizers aid this process in order to develop independent leadership and democratic and transparent mechanisms for making decisions. While this is an ideal model of membership and its organizational role, it is difficult to operationalize and sustain. Having an active membership requires opportunities for training, social events, and interaction with staff and board members. These activities are time- and resource-consuming – but necessary. Rights-based centers face difficult choices with limited resources. Does one continue to invest resources in the membership, while, as a result of the storefront successes, demand has increased exponentially? Does one expend resources on providing service to the community members who need it, or does one expend the same resources on maintaining a vital membership? Both are necessary. Managing this reality means making tough choices that grow, paradoxically, out of success. How this paradox is managed differs from one center to another, but the guiding principle remains and rests on the importance of participation and an aspiration for reciprocity where the organization gives back to its members in meaningful ways. Membership is based on voluntarism in the organization, and membership is reserved for those who have a stake and contribute as volunteers. In our model, all participants in community organizing efforts are de facto organizational members, but what happens when the organizing effort ends and people go home and no longer have contact with our centers? Are they still members? And what of those organizing efforts that have become community-run

Appendix 1 351 institutions such as housing cooperatives, food coops, etc.? Do they have permanent representation even though the formal association may be long over? And, paradoxically, how can a rights-based organization be representative if its membership becomes diluted or inactive? And what is the relationship of members from community organizing efforts with the members who volunteer at the storefront week-in and week-out and are seen as the heart and hub of the community? Our rights-based model does not assume uniformity of directions and structures. Managing the complexity of these organizational relationships will fashion unique solutions.

Policy analysis Underpinning all the program components is an ability to provide information regarding entitlements and services that are available and how to access them. Of central importance in policy analysis is making links among the individual, the institutional framework, and public policy in ways that empower communities to understand these connections, how they affect them, and to involve them in the development of position papers and in lobbying for change. This methodology addresses political disentitlement with tools for practice to remedy these situations.

Community organization Issues that cannot be solved through individual advocacy but rather require policy change and or the introduction of new services and affect large numbers of people are identified through the storefront and outreach. Community workers organize consumer groups to advocate and lobby for rights. From a rights-based practice perspective, issues need to be defined in ways that are inclusive and that bring people from diverse backgrounds to work together. Issues must be experienced locally, and the link to policy or institutional change must be rooted in the personal experience of residents. This methodology links the personal to the communal and then to the institutional and political levels. The community organization activity itself can be directed to either the establishment of new autonomous organizations or toward change in law or regulations. How we go about achieving these goals is as important as the goals themselves. From a rights-based perspective, the process of creating groups, organizations, and alliances must be inclusive, reciprocal, and participatory. The goal is to achieve change through the creation of representative, democratic, dynamic groups that develop their own leadership and strategies where each member is valued. Organizing requires an informed active constituency in the foreground. Rightsbased organizations do not speak for people but together with them. Empowerment, trust, solidarity, and respect are all part of the mix that rise to the top when people are involved in democratic groups they have a stake in. Organizing activity may be short-term or long-term. It may be in response to a crisis or an urgent problem when, once solved, people return to their former

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lives without any organizational continuity. People want to solve the crisis that interrupted their lives and don’t necessarily want to join an organization. Some members of organizing groups may join the center, but there ought not to be an expectation that they will. Overall, participants carry with them the experience they had and pass it along to friends and family; and this is one way that democratic processes become part of the fabric of community life. Longer-term community organizing objectives will require more formal organization and resources, and it is necessary to establish these organizations with a plan that they become independent. A center’s sustainability will depend on the degree to which it builds, maintains, and promotes community solidarity, its organizational structure, and its ability to secure resources to sustain it. These approaches illustrate both sides of the debate as to who should be responsible for guaranteeing basic social welfare provisions and who should oversee implementing solutions. On the one hand, the rights of children to receive a hot lunch at school, for example, ought to be guaranteed and delivered by the state. When communities take over the delivery of these services, questions may arise as to the adequacy of available resources to meet the task, the consistency of standards across all schools, the accountability of the state to provide essential services to all citizens, and the divesting of public responsibility onto often poorly funded local organizations. On the other hand, there is potentially enormous value when services are initiated and delivered through local civic participation. The content is enriched – be it the nature of the food, the involvement of parents, or the skills acquired. The inclusion of local experience in how services are delivered enhances participation and reciprocity. As to who should deliver the services – state or community – we argue that it depends on the particular context. A rights-based perspective’s response avoids dogma. It accepts that both arguments are true – the state should guarantee these universal rights, and these social provisions are enriched through local participation and ownership. If both arguments are true, then both kinds of solutions ought to be possible, and combinations of each approach can coexist. It depends on which kinds of services in what communities and compared with which other priorities. It is the context of each opportunity that forms the contours for the appropriate decision.

Academic–community partnerships Our work in Israel, Palestine, and Jordan illustrates that academic institutions are foundational support for our rights-based centers. Strong academic–community partnerships are an essential component of our model. Partnerships – particularly with those who have least access to university expertise – can transform communities when the relationships that are established are reciprocal. Partnerships with less visible, less wealthy, less formally educated community members help the university to be a living, viable force for social transformation by its very diversity. The words university and universal share the same root, and such partnerships are one way for universities to become truly universal in their reach.

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An enduring, unique, and innovative interuniversity academic community partnership takes place through the ICAN fellowship program, which develops the professional capacity to develop and manage these centers. More than 60 fellows, recruited from among individuals in the forefront of civil society and peace building in Jordan, Palestine, Syria, and Israel, have graduated this two-year MSW. ICAN fellows spend their first year together in Canada in a leading-edge interdisciplinary program that focuses on theory and rights-based community practice as well as internships in leading Canadian nongovernmental organizations that are highly regarded for their work in promoting the rights of the disadvantaged. The Middle Eastern fellows seize the opportunity to forge strategic alliances to promote a regional rights-based culture of civil society, working together across borders. Alumni have gone on to open and operate the ICAN centers, to lead cutting-edge NGOs and government ministries, and to launch innovative programs influenced by their experience in Canada. Bringing people from diverse backgrounds into the university enriches cultural content and meaning among all students and faculty, generates discussion around perspectives that might not otherwise be considered, and taps the idealism of student life to make a difference. Extending university expertise by bringing it to the community in an organizational context that facilitates skill acquisition, knowledge, and solutions signals to the community that they are important and must be counted. Inclusion is promoted not just by bringing the community to the university through scholarships and the like but by also bringing the university to the community. These partnerships provide opportunities for real, firsthand experience – be it for research, professional training, or volunteer activism.

Notes 1 This chapter builds on my earlier work: J. Torczyner, “The Application of Human Rights Advocacy Theory to Organizational Innovation in Israel: The Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel Experience.” International Journal of Social Welfare, Vol. 10, No. 2, April 2001, pp. 85–96. 2 Michael Bess, Realism, Utopia and the Mushroom Cloud, Chicago IL: University of Chicago Press, 1993. 3 See Victor Frankl, Man’s Search for Meaning, New York: Simon and Schuster, 1984. 4 Francis Fox Piven and Richard Cloward, Regulating the Poor: The Functions of Public Welfare: Updated, New York, NY: Vintage Books, 1993. 5 Peter Marris, The Politics of Uncertainty: Attachment in Private and Public Life, New York: Routledge, 1996; Peter Marris, Meaning and Action: Community Planning and Conceptions of Change, London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1996. 6 Peter Berger and John Neuhaus, To Empower People: From State to Civil Society, Washington, DC: A.E.I. Press, 1996. 7 Eugene Ionesco, Rhinoceros, New York: Editions Gallima France, 1958. 8 Nikolaus Horster, Principles of Exchange and Power: Integrating the Theory of Social Institutions and the Theory of Value, New York: Lang, 1997; Avishai Margalit, The Decent Society, Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1997. 9 Frederick Douglass, The Oxford Frederick Douglass Reader, New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996.

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10 Jean Bethke Elshtain, “Democracy at Century’s End.” The Social Service Review, Vol. 70, No. 4, December 1996; Barbara A. Misztal, Trust in Modern Societies: The Search for the Bases of Social Order, Cambridge, MA: Blackwell Publishers, 1996; Nicholas Rescher, The Obligations of Impersonal Reason Indiana, Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1997. 11 Black Law Dictionary, St. Paul, MN: West Publishing, 1990. 12 M. Nijhoff, Human Rights and Humanitarian Law: The Quest for Universality, Bamidele A. Ojo, Human Rights and the New World Order: Universality, Acceptability and Human Diversity, Commack, NY: Nova Science Publishers, 1997. 13 Peter Marris, The Politics of Uncertainty: Attachment in Private and Public Life, New York: Routledge, 1996; Lawrence Becker, Reciprocity, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1990; Millard Schumaker, Sharing without Reckoning: Imperfect Right and the Norm of Reciprocity, Waterloo, ON: Wilfrid Laurier Press, 1992. 14 John Rawls, A Theory of Justice, Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1971. 15 Jane Campbell, Disability Politics: Understanding our Past, Changing our Future, New York: Routledge Community Advocacy/Genesis Israel (1994) Policy Statement, Jerusalem, Israel, 1996. Diana M. DiNitto, Social Work: Issues and Opportunities in a Challenging Profession, Boston: Allyn and Bacon, 1997. 16 B.C. Reynolds, “Between Client and Community: A Study in Responsibility in Social Casework.” Smith College Studies in Social Work Monographs, Vol. 5, No. 1, 1934, p. 126. 17 Frederick Douglass, The Oxford Frederick Douglass Reader, New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996. 18 Richard Wilkinson, Unhealthy Societies: The Affliction of Inequality, London: Routledge, 1996. 19 Martha A. Gabriel, AIDS Trauma and Support Group Therapy: Mutual Aid, Empowerment, Connection, New York: The Free Press, 1996; Richard P. Felson and James T. Tedeschi (eds.), Aggression and Violence: Social Interactionist Perspectives, Washington, DC: American Psychological Association, 1996; Linda D. Molm, Coercive Power in Social Exchange, Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 1997. 20 Marie O. Weil, “Community Building: Building Community Practice.” Social Work, Vol. 41, No. 5, September 1996. 21 Joel F. Handler, Down from Bureaucracy: The Ambiguity of Privatization and Empowerment, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1996; Evelyn Z. Brodkin, “Inside the Welfare Contract: Discretion and Accountability in State Welfare Administration.” The Social Service Review, Vol. 71, No 1, March 1997; M. Lipsky, “Bureaucratic Disentitlement in Social Welfare Programs.” Social Service Review, Vol. 58, No. 1, 1984, 3–27; Jim Torczyner, “Discretion, Judgement and Informed Consent: Ethical and Practice Issues in Social Action.” Social Work, Vol. 36, No. 2, March 1991, pp. 122–128. 22 Win Van Oorschot, Realizing Rights, Aldershot: Avebury. 23 Ann Withorn, Serving the People: Social Services and Social Change, New York; Guildford, UK: Columbia University Press, 1984. 24 M. Lipsky, “Bureaucratic Disentitlement in Social Welfare Programs.” Social Service Review, Vol. 58, No. 1, 1984, pp. 3–27. 25 Allan Gewirth, The Community of Rights, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996, p. 5. 26 Lykes Brinton, Ali M. Banuazizi, Ramsay Liem, and Michael Morris (eds.), Myths About the Powerless: Contesting Social Inequalities, Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1996. 27 Peter Berger and John Neuhaus, To Empower People: From State to Civil Society, Washington, DC: A.E.I. Press, 1996. 28 Jody R. Markow, The Relationship between the Self-Perception of Psychological Empowerment and Perceived Control in a University Population, Ph.D. Dissertation, McGill University, Montreal, Quebec, Canada, 1994.

Appendix 1 355 29 Barbara Simon, The Empowerment Tradition in American Social Work, New York: Columbia University Press, 1994; Judith Lee, The Empowerment Approach to Social Work Practice, New York: Columbia University Press, 1994. 30 Marie O. Weil, “Community Building: Building Community Practice.” Social Work, Vol. 41, No. 5, September 1996; Katrina Shields, In the Tiger’s Mouth: an Empowerment Guide for Social Action, Philadelphia: New Society Press, 1994; Bill Berkowitz and Tom Wolff, Rethinking Social Action and Community Empowerment: A Dialogue in Myths about the Powerless (edited by Brinton et al.), Silver Springs, MD: National Association of Social Workers, 1996; G. Brager, H. Specht, and J. Torczyner, Community Organizing, New York: Columbia University Press, 1987. 31 Christine Radziewicz and Ellenmorris Tiegerman-Farber, Collaborative Decision Making: The Pathway to Inclusion, London: Pearson, 1998. Marie O. Weil, “Community Building: Building Community Practice.” Social Work, Vol. 41, No. 5, September 1996. 32 Caroline M. Robb, Can the Poor Influence Policy?: Responding to the Challenge of Inclusion through Participatory Poverty Assessments, Washington, DC: World Bank, 1998; Lykes Brinton, Ali M. Banuazizi, Ramsay Liem, and Michael Morris (eds.), Myths About the Powerless: Contesting Social Inequalities, Philadelphia: Temple University Press, 1996.

Index

Note: Page numbers in italics indicate figures. Abbas, Mahmoud 243, 258n22, 299–301 Abdullah II 151, 201, 286 Abu Darwish, Awwad 287 Abudayeh, Abeer 189, 201 Abu Jaber, Ghada 135 Abu Nusair, Jordan 159–160 Abu Rabe, Randa 231 Abu Za’rour, Faten Ghazi 231 Adini, Bruria 287 Aghabekian, Varsen: Al-Quds center and 145–146, 155, 175, 276; JCAN and 295; management committee and 219, 228; Welfare Association and 277 Aghber, Hanadi 207 Aigen, Ron 245 Aix Group 195 AJCS see Allied Jewish Community Services (AJCS) AJEEC see Arab Jewish Center for Equality, Empowerment and Cooperation (AJEEC) Akunis, Ofir 190 Al-Aqsa mosque 190 Al-Assad, Hafez 151 Al-Azhari, Wael 135, 141–143 Al-Fayez, Abdel Kareem 135, 142, 161 Al-Hadid, Haya 267 Al-Hadid, Mohammad: Al Fayez clan and 161; Al-Hadid clan and 164; EMS training and 284–287, 290; on international cooperation and NGOs 185; Jordan Community Action Network and 295; Jordan Red Crescent and 144–145, 196–197, 239, 248–249, 284–285; McGill Beatty Memorial Lecture and 240; Middle Eastern fellows and 256; MMEP and 219; on peacebuilding 240

Al-Hadid, Rad 189–190, 201, 214 Al-Kirnawi, Jamal 231, 239 Allen, Jon 300 Allied Jewish Community Services (AJCS) 16, 19–23, 27, 32 Al-Louzi, Salah 135, 141–142, 219, 308 Al-Majaly, Sawsan 160 Al-Mousa, Abdullah 214, 219 Al-Qdah, Talal: management committee and 228, 256; as McGill fellow 200–201; rights-based practice and 189–190; Sweileh Community Center and 214–215, 265; work in Qatar 308–309 Al-Quds Community Action Center: civic education programs 209, 234; community advocacy by 255, 261; equal rights demands and 209–210; establishment of 136, 172–179; impact of Second Intifada on 192–194, 208–209; legal clinic in 209, 277; neighborhood location for 175–179; operation by university 276–277; Palestinian Jerusalemites and 209, 279; storefront advocacy and 233–234; volunteer advocates and 209; women’s services and 209, 234–235, 255 Al-Quds University: academic partnerships and 128; campuses of 174; civic education programs 234; departure from McGill network 276–277; McGill partnership 127–128, 134; Middle Eastern fellows and 135–136, 142, 145–146, 174–175, 189–190; Palestinian Jerusalemites and 122, 172; as Palestinian university 124; social work program at 123, 175; volunteer bureau and 276 Altinay, Aye 250

Index Al-Wahdat neighborhood 162–165 Al Zataar al- Akdbar (The Green Thyme) (Kilani) 137 Amiel, Avner: community organizing and 6, 35, 40, 44–45; criticism of Project Renewal 31; Genesis Beersheba and 50, 52, 54, 57–59; Israeli Black Panthers and 6–7; on Occupation 8, 24; Sephardic community and 59; social justice and 5, 25 Amir, Yigal 93 Amit, Aviva 47 Amnesty International 204 An-Najah National University: academic partnerships and 127; Arafat and 125, 128; community relationships and 169; community service requirement at 168, 253–254, 315; computer lab for the blind at 283; establishment of 125; management of community service center 307; McGill partnership 126–128, 134, 143; Middle Eastern fellows and 135–136, 189; RERC and 281; see also Community Service Center (Nablus, Palestine) Anson, Jon 62 Appel, David 269 Arab Jewish Center for Equality, Empowerment and Cooperation (AJEEC) 4, 115, 194, 223n17, 309 Arab League 192 Arafat, Yassar: Camp David II Middle East Peace summit and 190; death of 239–240; An-Najah National University and 125, 128; Nusseibeh and 208; Operation Defensive Shield and 204; Oslo Accords and 46, 74–75; Palestinian National Authority and 74; Second Intifada and 202; Wye River Memorandum and 147 Aran, Oded 112–113, 120 Armoni, Avi 116–117 Arnold and Bleema Steinberg Foundation 305 Ashrafieh, Jordan 267–268 Association for Civil Rights 92 Association of Women Against Violence (WAV) 135 Ata Alshahwan, Samar 231 Atlan, Michael 44, 50, 54 Auerbach, David 310 Auerbach, Gail 310 Aumond, Nicky: development of social work program and 95, 154–155, 158–159, 264; Genesis Israel and 42, 96; Jordanian center and 166, 197,

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216; MCHRAT initiatives and 229; Queen Noor visit to McGill and 182; on regional culture 181–182 Aviad, Janet 123 Avni, Nufar 34 Avtubi, Avishag 37, 39 Awadallah, Bassem 286 Ayalon, Ami 174 Azrieli, David 34 Badash, Pinhas 57 Bahat, Dov 39, 62 Bakir, Yasmin 207 Banioweida, Kifah 308 Barak, Ehud 116, 155, 190, 199 Barzelai, Hadas 129 Basma, Princess 93 Batshaw, Manny 19–20, 23 Baum, Gregory 107, 245 Beaulieu, Laurent 119 Bedouin community: AJCEEC and 4, 223n17; Community Advocacy (CA) outreach to 131, 152, 179–180, 194, 212; economic disparity and 35; education of girls in 105; women’s rights and 152 Beersheba, Israel: Bedouin community and 35; characteristics of 32–33; Community Advocacy (CA) in 61, 63; Daled neighborhood and 34, 38, 52, 58–59, 69; disrepair in 33–35; early childhood center and 38–39, 58, 63, 66; Ethiopian association in 47–48; immigrants in 33; partnership with Montreal Jewish community 27, 30–31; population growth in 35; rent increases in 38; temporary housing in 34; volunteer advocates and 69–70; Yud Aleph neighborhood 52–54; see also Montreal-Beersheba Project Renewal Partnership Begin, Menachem 25, 27, 29 Bellos, Susan 51 Ben Gera, Eli 45 Ben Gurion, David 32 Ben-Gurion University: Community Advocacy (CA) Beersheba and 194–195; community organizing partnerships and 39–40; emergency medicine collaboration and 284–287, 290, 315; Genesis Beersheba support and 43, 45, 48–50, 52, 54–55, 58, 61; Jordanian paramedic cohort and 284–287, 289; McGill partnership 61, 80, 89–90, 134; rights-based practice and 31; University of Jordan partnership 85, 87–90

358

Index

Ben Porat, Irit 308 Bérard, Isabelle 296, 299 Berger, David 70 Berger, E. Michael 16 Berger, Robert 42, 62–63 Berkowitz, Elana 44 Bethlehem University 123, 126–128 Bhatt, Vikram 110–111, 131, 134 Bingham, John 236, 310 Bir Zeit University 123 Bitan, Dan 123–124 Black Star 139 Bloom, Diane 244 Bouchard, Lucien 147 Boudria, Don 99–100 Bourque, Pierre 94, 98 Boyd, Sean 296 Braverman, Avishay 39–40, 78, 101–102, 113 Bresco, Norman 22 Bronfman, Barbara 23, 237 Bronfman, Brian 243, 309 Brown, John 246 Burckhardt, Johann Ludwig 113 Burg, Avrum 129 Bush, George W. 202 Butler, Ian 216, 232 Camp David II Middle East Peace summit 190 Canada: foreign policy and 264; Israeli relations and 87–90, 106; Jordanian relations and 87–90; Oslo Accords and 109, 219; Palestinian presidential elections and 241; Palestinian relations and 252, 264; political change in 147, 222, 263; relationship with Israel 264 Canada-Israel Committee 301 Canadian International Development Agency (CIDA): exclusion of Israel from funding 98–99; funding application to 98–99, 111–112; funding decisions and 198–199; Jordanian fellows funding 109; Lalonde report and 295–297; McGill University and 221–222; MMEP funding and 109, 121, 198, 216–219, 256–257, 262, 283, 295–299, 304; Middle Eastern fellows funding and 121, 198; Palestinian assistance and 252, 296–298; practice centers and 253; University Partnerships in Cooperation and Development program 110; West Bank/Gaza field program 145 Canadian Jewish Congress 2, 22

Carmi, Rivka 286 Chambers, Gretta: development of Jordanian social work program and 95–98, 108, 111, 130; Genesis Israel support and 41, 79–80; Middle Eastern fellows and 138, 201; MMEP and 147–148, 219; Queen Noor visit to McGill and 183; retirement of 303 Charest, Jean 147 Charles Rosner Bronfman (CRB) Foundation 123 Chávez, César 4–5 Chiasson, Danielle 217 Chicago Community Center 269, 271 citizen participation 27–29 Clinton, Bill 46, 75, 147, 190 Cloward, Richard 114 Cohen, Michael 55, 58–59, 69 Community Advocacy (CA) Beersheba: bankruptcy and 310; Bedouin outreach project 131, 152, 179–180, 194; BenGurion University support for 194–195; community advocacy by 102n7, 114, 179, 194–195, 211–212; community organizing and 72–74; Daled neighborhood and 69; Federation/ CJA Project Renewal Committee and 65; Food Cooperative 190; funding for 114–115, 196; legal advocacy and 72; Montreal Federation and 63, 195–196; public housing and 91–92, 114, 179; rights-based practice and 61, 261–262; storefront advocacy and 71–72, 114; Unrecognized Bedouin Single Mothers Group 179–180; see also Genesis Beersheba Community Advocacy (CA) centers: CIDA funding and 253, 262; in East Jerusalem 262; empowerment and 220; impact of social service cuts on 260; Istanbul conference and 250–251; mobile units and 262, 280–281; NGO model of 221; peace-building activity and 247–248; rights-based practice and 256; RightsMobile program 252; sustainability and 220; see also Al-Quds Community Action Center; Community Service Center (Nablus, Palestine); Sweileh Community Center (Amman, Jordan) Community Advocacy (CA) Jerusalem: closure of 272, 308; community advocacy by 102n7, 114, 179, 194–195, 211–212; community organizing and 73–74, 114; Food Cooperative

Index 195, 212; funding for 92, 114–115, 129, 196; Hebrew University and 70; Kahanoff Foundation funding for 116; legal advocacy and 72; McGill University support for 114; Montreal Federation relationship and 93–94, 115, 129, 145; municipal support for 69–70; neighborhood location for 70; public housing and 145; rights-based practice and 61; senior coalition and 91; storefront advocacy and 70–72; volunteer advocates and 71; see also Genesis Jerusalem Community Advocacy (CA) Lod: Chicago Community Center and 271–272; children’s programs at 271; development of 262; diversity in 255, 270–272; food co-ops and 272; Ramat Eshkol neighborhood and 269–270; resident improvements and 271; rights-based practice and 255, 271; storefront advocacy and 268–269, 308; volunteer advocates and 270–271; worker rights and 271 Community Advocacy (CA) Waqa 262, 267–268, 309 Community Advocacy Rights Mobile 280 community organizing: in Beersheba 72–74; Côte-des-Neiges, Montréal 1–3, 11, 12, 13–23; impact of violence on 76–77; in Jerusalem 73–74; outreach and 13, 17; political parties and 117; rights-based approach to 14, 18; social services and 13–17; storefront advocacy and 17; volunteer advocates and 17 community service 168, 253–254, 315–316 Community Service Center (Nablus, Palestine): community advocacy by 193, 283–284, 292n51; disabled school children and 283; elderly support program and 283; establishment of 167–171; expansion of services 208; health services and 253; hospital social work and 282–283; housing rehabilitation and 208, 234, 282; impact of Second Intifada on 206–208; Kilani and 169–171; learning spaces and 206–208; mobile units and 280–281; Open Door program 282; outreach and 171–172; programs for disabled children and families 235; solar power program 281; storefront advocacy and 253; supportive education program and 234–235, 283; volunteer advocates

359

and 170–171, 253–254, 260–261, 281–282, 315 Côte-des-Neiges, Montréal: community organizing in 1–3, 11, 12, 13–21; Jewish community in 2, 11, 15–21 Cotler, Irwin 23, 110 Crago, Martha 109, 190, 201 Cretien, Jean 219 Cwiekel, Julie 40, 49 Dagan-Buzaglo, Noga 210, 260 Daghestani, Farah 93 Dalfen, Ben Zion 38 Declaration of Principles on Interim SelfGovernment Arrangements (DOP) 74 Dergarabidian, Arda 267 de Salaberry, Michel 80, 88, 96–97, 100 Development and Strategy Forum (DSF) 285, 289–290, 293n58 Divon, Haim 284 Doe, Ed 252 Dranius, Kiki 182 Ducros, Françoise 296, 299 East Jerusalem: Al-Quds center and 175–177, 179, 192–194, 208–209; closure of Palestinian schools in 209; Kfar Aqab neighborhood 308; network of centers in 277–278; Old City in 177–179; Palestinian Jerusalemites in 172–174, 277–279, 308; provision of services in 278–279; see also Old City, Jerusalem Ejjeh, Subhi 247 Elalouf, Eli 37 Elobaide, Elobaide 181 El-Sana, Morad 190, 201 emergency medicine collaboration: BenGurion University and 284–287, 289; funding for 287; Israeli-Jordanian 285–287, 288, 289–290, 315; Jordanian paramedic cohort and 284–287, 289 Epstein, Barbara: Community Advocacy (CA) and 59–60, 65, 70, 92, 94, 118, 150, 154, 180, 185, 219, 228, 255, 308; funding development and 92, 129, 145; Shatil and 60 Epstein, Randy 59 Erakat, Saeb 300 Fafo Institute 74 Faguy, David 140 Faraj, Ziad (Mohammad) 136, 141–142, 174–178, 193

360

Index

Farhan, Amal 93 Fatah 252 Federation CJA Montreal 5, 23 Feinbloom, Steve 310 Finestone, Sheila 22, 99–100, 111–112, 130, 201, 219 Finger, Nachum 113 Finkelstein, Maxyne 42, 61, 64 Fischel, John 23 Flanders, Ellen 247 Flanders, Kappy 131, 148, 305 Fogel, Shimon 301 Fountain, Keith 302 Frankl, Victor 11, 313 Freedman, Seth 273 Galili, Amaya 231 Gavison, Ruth 92 Gedaloff, Eddie 25, 272 gender-based violence projects 135, 265–267 Genesis Beersheba: advisory board and 41–42, 45–47; Ben-Gurion University support for 43, 45, 48–50, 52, 54–55, 58, 61; Daled neighborhood and 58–59; development of 37, 42–43; early childhood center and 58, 63, 66; funding for 62–63; Montreal Federation support for 50, 52, 58, 64–65; Montreal Jewish community support for 43; municipal endorsement of 48; municipal opposition to 62; objectives of 42–43; Project Renewal and 62–63; rights-based practice and 52–55; school rights issue and 53–54, 56–58; volunteer advocates and 55; Yud Aleph neighborhood 52–54; see also Community Advocacy (CA) Beersheba Genesis Israel: development of 60–61; evolution of 51; Jerusalem office and 36; Kahanoff Foundation funding for 116; as McGill teaching center 41–42; MCHRAT and 41–42; Montreal Jewish community support for 38; Project Renewal funding and 63–65; rights-based practice and 35; university support for 39–41; see also Community Advocacy (CA) Jerusalem Genesis Jerusalem: advisory board and 45; development of 44–45, 50–51; funding for 59; Katamon neighborhood and 44–45; municipal support for 51, 61; planning committee for 50; staff selection for 59–60; see also Community Advocacy (CA) Jerusalem

Ghareibeh, Fawzi: MCHRAT initiatives and 100–102, 112–113, 124–126, 128–129; Middle Eastern fellows and 118, 120; as Minister of Education 143; University of Jordan and 80–81, 84–88, 90 Gidron, Benny 45, 147 Gilbert, Neil 8 global financial crisis, 2008 263 Gluska, Ami 39 Goldberg, Avishay 285 Goldberg, Louis 44 Goldbloom, Jonathan 111, 310 Goldbloom, Sheila 108, 111, 131, 141, 194, 309 Goldstein, Baruch 76 Good, Len 218 Graham, William 310 Gray, Herbert 219 Greater Montreal Anti-Poverty Coordinating Committee (GMAPCC) 9 Grenon, Marie-Claude 217, 254 Habitat for Humanity 255 Hall, John 221–222 Halpern, Kobi 247 Hamas 252, 259 Hamdallah, Rami: academic partnerships and 127, 185; MMEP and 125, 147, 153, 219, 239; An-Najah National University and 125–126, 143; Palestine Community Action Network and 295; Palestinian Central Elections Commission and 241; as Palestinian prime minister 156n8; peace-building activity and 136; rights-based practice and 168 Hammond, Mona 182, 228–229 Hamouz, Ibrahim 207 Hamouz, Liana 207 Haniyeh, Ismail 252 Hardan, Tareq 276 Harper, Steven 263–264, 297, 299–300, 302 Hassan, Prince 112–113, 151 Hebrew University 41, 45, 50, 70, 124, 277 Hecht, Steven 309 Herscovitch, Alice 65 Hertzog, Shira 41, 116 Herzl, Theodore 24 Hindi, Linda 265 Hochbaum, Martin 16 Hopmeyer, Estelle 95, 107–109, 154, 190, 221, 303

Index Hussein, King of Jordan 77–78, 147, 151 Hussein, Saddam 201 Husseini, Faisal 208 ICAN see International Community Action Network (ICAN) inclusion: Community Service Center (Nablus, Palestine) and 283; community service for 315; cross-border partnerships and 313, 315; Middle Eastern fellows and 106–108; Project Genesis and 18; Project Renewal and 29, 35; rights-based change and 3; rights-based practice and 310 Info Depot 139 Inksater, Kimberly 302 International Community Action Network (ICAN): advisory board and 309–310; Amal Sana and 4, 309–310; cross-border partnerships and 294–295; funding for 295, 305–306, 308–310; McGill University status of 304; Middle Eastern fellows and 138; Narrative Exchange Program and 200; national committees for 295; peace-building activity and 1, 6; responsibilities of 295; rights-based practice and 1; transition of MMEP to 26n1, 294; vision of 294; see also McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building (MMEP) International Red Cross/Red Crescent: emblems and 248; Israeli membership in 185; Mogen David Adom and 196, 240, 249, 262, 284; Palestinian Red Crescent and 249, 262; see also Jordan Red Crescent Iraqi refugees 201–202, 213–214, 259 Iraq War 201–202, 213 ISIS 201 Islam: Al-Aqsa mosque and 190; crosscultural exchange and 141; Jihad boycott of Palestinian elections 240, 258n22; mourning and 151–152; social work curriculum and 104; women’s rights in 265–267, 315 Islamophobia 201 Israel: academic agreements with Jordan 84–85; academic partnerships with Palestinians 121–124; annexation of East Jerusalem 172; community organizing in 25; Development and Strategy Forum (DSF) 289; economic crisis in 30; emergency medicine collaboration and 284–287, 289–290;

361

impact of Second Intifada on 210; Labor party election in 46–47, 74, 116; Likud government in 24, 46; national policy and 36; peace treaty with Jordan 46, 74–75, 77–78; poverty rates and 210–212, 259–260; recognition of PLO 74, 76; social benefit cuts in 259–260; social movements in 25; social services and 24, 31; tax cuts for wealthy in 260; unemployment and 144; Welfare-toWork Wisconsin Program 279; Wye River Memorandum 147; see also Palestinian-Israeli relations Israel Community Action Network 295 Israeli Black Panther party 6–7, 25 Israeli Movement for Progressive Judaism 59 Israeli Occupation: closure policy and 143–144; impact on Palestinians 8; impact on poor Israelis 8, 24; Palestinian-Israeli relations and 25–26; violence and 75; see also Palestine Israeli-Palestinian Dialogue Group 137 Israeli–Palestinian Writers Dialogue Group 137 Issacson, Magnus 244 Istanbul, Turkey 250–251, 258n33, 258n34 Jacoby, Daniel 96 Jacoby, Jonathan 25 Jarar, Hind 207 JCAN see Jerusalem Community Action Network (JCAN) Jerusalem: Community Advocacy (CA) in 61; Genesis Israel in 36; Palestinian Jerusalemites in 172–174, 191, 193; politics in 172; rights-based practice and 44; tensions in 44; see also East Jerusalem; Genesis Jerusalem; Israel Jerusalem Center for Social & Economic Rights 172 Jerusalem Community Action Network (JCAN) 277–279, 295, 307–308 Jewish community (Côte-des-Neiges, Montréal): community organizing in 2, 11, 15–23; outreach and 17; partnership with Beersheba, Israel 27, 30–31; poverty among 15–17, 20–21; social services and 14–17 Jewish Family Services 16 Johnson, Nancy 18 Johnston, David 41, 79 JOHUD see Jordan Hashemite Fund for Human Development (JOHUD)

362

Index

Jordan: academic agreements with Israel 84–85; anti-Israel sentiments and 196; Canadian government support and 99–100; democratic reforms in 94; demographics of 78–79; Development and Strategy Forum (DSF) 289; economy and 144; emergency medicine collaboration and 284–287, 289–290, 315; fellows planning in 158–167; impact of Second Intifada on 213; Iraq and 224n33; Iraqi refugees in 201–202, 213–214, 259; Iraq War impact and 213; Israeli ambassadors in 248; Israeli peace treaty 46, 74–75, 77–78; Palestinian population in 77; paramedics in 284–286; peace-building activity 228; poverty in 213; rights-based practice in 189; risk-taking in 81; social welfare and 78; US military operations and 201; youth unemployment in 78; see also Sweileh Community Center (Amman, Jordan) Jordan Community Action Network 295 Jordan Hashemite Fund for Human Development (JOHUD) 78, 155, 228, 254, 267 Jordan-Israel Collaboration in Disaster Preparedness and Management 285, 288 Jordan Red Crescent: Al-Hadid and 144, 196, 284; East Amman center and 267; Jordan centers and 134, 155, 162, 181, 189, 197, 252; youth exchange programs and 235 juvenile delinquency 6–7 Kahanoff Foundation 116–117 Kamal, Musa 123, 147 Kantor, Mary Shapiro 80 Kantrowitz, George 19 Kaufman, Roni 57–58, 62, 70, 73 Keren Hayesod - United Israeli Appeal 27 Ketain, Amit 307 Kfar Aqab 308 Khair, Salim 182 Khaswneih, Ibtisam 309 Khaswneih, Sami: Jordan practice center and 160–161, 197; Middle Eastern fellows and 118–119, 128–129; Queen Noor meeting and 100; Queen Noor visit to McGill and 154; University of Jordan and 143–144 Kilani, Muhammad 207 Kilani, Sami: activism and 136–137; Al Zataar al- Akdbar (The Green Thyme) 137; on impact of Oslo Accords 167–168;

imprisonment of 3, 136–137; McGill PhD studies and 264; MMEP and 4, 141–142, 228; mobile units and 280; Nablus Center and 169–171, 219; An-Najah National University and 307; organization of schools 208; social work development and 255–256 King, Coretta Scott 23, 41 King, Martin Luther, Jr. 77 King Hussein Foundation 78 Kitain, Amit 275 Klein, Marcie 65, 139 Kolber, Leo 219 Kolber, Sandra 23 Kollek, Teddy 7, 50–51 LaCroix, Marie 107 Lafaille, Robert 234 Laine, Jonathan 145 Lalonde, Hélene 295–297 Landry, Bernard 217 Laxer, Carl 23 Lazarus, Lester 65 Lazin, Fred 28, 37 Leduc, David 229 Leibowitz, Yeshayahu 75 Levi, Avrum 44 Levin-Rozalis, Miry 30 Levy, Rachel 40, 47, 61, 64 Lipkus, Sandy 107 Lod, Israel 255, 262, 268–272, 308 Maabari, Hadas 55, 58–59, 69 Maani, Ayman 118–120 Maani, Mohammad: illness and 118–121; as McGill fellow 104, 108, 118, 128–129; McGill medical field partnership 153; National Higher Committee on Service for the Elderly and 153 Ma’ani, Walid S. 143, 153, 163, 165–166, 185, 197 MacDonald, Rod 56 Malouf, Peter 310 Mansbridge, Peter 182 Maqusi, Mohammad 82, 84–85, 89–90, 93, 95–96 Marei, Khairi 136, 142 Marion, Lucie 107, 182, 228–229 Marleau, Diane 111–112, 121, 130 Marris, Peter 21, 31, 147, 149, 313 Marx, Herbert 41–42 Mashav 111–112 Mauer, Billy 305 Mauer, Lilian 305

Index McGill Consortium for Human Rights Advocacy Training (MCHRAT): development of 41–42, 229; Israeli interns and 45; Jordanian initiatives and 84, 89, 91, 93–94, 100; as McGill center 304–305; Middle East initiatives and 104; MMEP and 95, 104, 121; Youth Rights Initiative 107 McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building (MMEP) 26n1; CIDA funding and 109, 121, 198, 216–219, 256–257, 262, 283, 295–302, 304; Contribution Agreement and 221–222; cross-border partnerships by 109–111, 121–122, 134–150, 152–153, 155–156, 262, 312–313; curriculum and 139–141; establishment of rightsbased centers by 109, 128, 140, 142–143; fellowship program leadership and 229; funding for 109–112, 121, 216–220; impact of Second Intifada on 192–198, 201; inclusion and 107–108; management committee and 228–229, 246, 255–257; MCHRAT and 95, 104, 121; New Israel Fund (NIF) and 55; Palestinian Authority support for 299–301; Palestinian partners and 122–128, 135–136; peace-building activity and 106, 247–248, 284–287, 289; Queen Noor and 154–155; regional conference and 180–182; rightsbased practice and 3; Sapir Academic College partnership 273; short fellows program and 246–247; sustainability and 262–263; transition to ICAN 294; see also International Community Action Network (ICAN); Middle Eastern fellows McGill University: academic partnerships and 41–42; Ben-Gurion University partnership 61, 89–90, 134; CIDA funding and 221–222; community partnerships and 8; ICAN and 1; leadership of 303, 312, 314; Middle Eastern fellows and social work program 108–109; organizational culture of 302–307, 314; Palestinian partners and 123–128; Queen Noor visit to 182–186; sponsorship of Middle Eastern fellows 222; University of Jordan partnership 79–82, 84–85, 87, 89–91, 95–97, 99–102, 134 MCHRAT see McGill Consortium for Human Rights Advocacy Training (MCHRAT)

363

McKay, Emily Gantz 180 Meir, Golda 7 Mezach-The Center for Social Rights 274–276, 307 Michaels, Robert 60 Middle Eastern fellows: academic partnerships and 134–135; bonding by 141–142; challenges of interactions 138–141, 199–200; CIDA funding and 109–110, 121, 130, 198; conflict within groups 142–143; female candidates and 136, 231; field placement and 200, 224n29, 243; first cohort of 104–110, 128, 130–131, 155; fourth cohort of 231, 236–237; funding for 109, 121; intergroup conflicts and 142–143; leadership for 229; McGill sponsorship of 222; Narrative Exchange Program and 200, 237, 243; non-university personnel as 165, 167; peace-building activity and 231–233, 237–239, 243–246; program design for 109, 139–140; recruitment for 134–135, 137–138, 164; relationships among 190, 194, 198–201, 235–237, 245; sixth cohort of 267; third cohort of 189–190; see also McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building (MMEP) Mills, C. Wright 15 Mindel, Edith 65 Mindel, Harry 65 Minna, Maria 183 Mitchell, George 191 Mizrachi Jews 6 MMEP see McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building (MMEP) Mogen David Adom 196, 240, 249, 262, 284 Mograbi, Abeer 231 Molloy, Mike 100–101, 112, 119, 151, 197 Montréal, Canada 2, 8–11; see also Côte-des-Neiges, Montréal Montreal-Beersheba Project Renewal Partnership: Daled neighborhood and 33–35, 38; early childhood center and 38–39; government budget responsibilities and 30; Montreal Federation funding for 31–32; Montreal missions to 31, 36–40, 54–55; Project Renewal Local Steering Committee 37; support from local government 37; university support for 45; see also Beersheba, Israel

364

Index

Montreal Federation: Community Advocacy (CA) funding 92, 99, 115, 129; Community Advocacy (CA) Jerusalem and 93–94, 115, 129, 145; Genesis Beersheba funding 50, 52, 65; Genesis Israel funding 41–42; Project Renewal Committee 31, 38; see also Montreal-Beersheba Project Renewal Partnership Montréal Jewish Federation-Allied Jewish Community Services (AJCS) 5 Moshe, Merav: Community Advocacy (CA) Beersheba and 106; community center methodology 275; Epstein and 150; as fieldwork coordinator 4; McGill PhD study and 105, 197; Middle Eastern fellows and 107; MMEP management committee and 228; peace-building activity and 251; as regional coordinator 49–50, 195, 229, 262; rights-based practice and 275–276; Sapir Academic College and 49, 195, 262, 272–275, 307; Syrian Lebanese Community Association and 141; work in Sderot 273–275 Muna, Abdallah 207 Munroe-Blum, Heather 300, 303 Mustaki, Joseph 62 Nablus, Palestine: impact of Oslo Accords on 167–168; impact of Second Intifada on 192–193; Old City in 234; Second Intifada and 204–205; see also Community Service Center (Nablus, Palestine) Nablus-West Jerusalem 137 Narrative Exchange Program 200, 237, 243 National Centre for Blood Diseases 283 National Council of Jewish Women 22 NDG 2000 139 Netanyahu, Benjamin 98, 116, 147, 210–211, 246, 260 Nevo, Danny 249 New Israel Fund (NIF) 25, 44–45, 55–56 New York Federation of Jewish Philanthropies 253 New York Jewish Federation 262, 268 NIF see New Israel Fund (NIF) Nijem, Manar 278 Nimri, Inam 309 Nitzan, Meir 269 nongovernmental organizations 60–61, 114–115 Noor, Queen: death of King Hussein and 151; McGill initiative and 88, 100, 128;

McGill Middle East Program in Civil Society and Peace Building (MMEP) and 154–155; visit to McGill University 182–186 Nusseibeh, Munir 277 Nusseibeh, Sari: Al-Quds University and 123–124, 174, 180, 276; on joint initiatives in Palestine 186; MMEP and 145, 219, 239; as PLO representative 208; on regional cooperation 184–185 Oda, Bev 301–302 Old City, Jerusalem 177–179; see also East Jerusalem Olimat, Hmoud: as McGill fellow 104, 107–108, 118, 120, 128; University of Jordan social work program and 128–129, 153, 159–160, 162 Olmert, Ehud 70, 94, 246, 252 Olwell, Jim: Al-Quds center and 175, 178; Community Advocacy (CA) and 181; fellowship program leadership and 229, 236–237, 264; Middle Eastern fellows and 140, 142, 156, 158, 162, 166, 245; Nablus Center and 170–171; Project Genesis and 138–139; short fellows program and 247 O’Neil, Maureen 184 Open Door program (CSC Nablus) 282 Operation Yoav 35 Oslo Accords 46, 74–75, 93, 143, 167–168 outreach: to Bedouin communities 131, 152, 179–180, 194, 212; community organizing and 13, 17; Nablus Community Service Center 171–172; Sweileh Community Center and 167 Palestine: CIDA assistance and 252, 296–298; election of Hamas 252; impact of Second Intifada on 204–206; Occupation of 8, 24–26, 75, 144; Palestinian-Israeli relations and 25–26; poverty in 205–206; presidential elections and 240–243; unemployment and 143–144; see also Palestinian Authority Palestine Community Action Network 295 Palestine Consultancy Group 124 Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO) 74, 259 Palestinian Authority: Arafat and 74; Camp David II Middle East Peace summit and 190; cash deficit of 252; CIDA bilateral assistance and 109, 297–298; Hamas-Fatah tensions and

Index 252; Hamas-led 252, 259; NGOs and 122–123; Old City, Jerusalem and 177; Palestinian legislature control and 252; recognition of 46, 76; recognition of Israel by 76; Second Intifada and 191, 202; stoppage of international assistance to 252, 259; support for MMEP 299–301; urban control and 125; Wye River Memorandum and 147 Palestinian Coalition for Women’s Health 145 Palestinian Democratic Union (FIDA) 137 Palestinian Independent Commission for Human Rights 145 Palestinian-Israeli relations: academic partnerships and 121–124; community organizing for common grounds and 76; East Jerusalem and 172, 174; Israeli disengagement from Gaza 230, 246; Israeli raids on Palestinians 204; Operation Defensive Shield and 203–204, 206; Oslo Accords and 46, 74–75, 93, 143, 168; separation wall and 203, 230–231; terrorism and 202–204; violence and 76–77, 122, 143, 190–191; Wye River Memorandum 147; see also Second Intifada Palestinian Jerusalemites: Al-Quds center and 279; JCAN centers for 277–279; provision of services for 173, 193, 209, 278–279, 308; resident status of 172–174, 278–279; rioting after Temple Mount visit 191 Palestinian Public Health Association 145 Palestinian Red Crescent 249, 262 Palestinian Society of the Friends of Thalassemia Patients 283 Palestinian universities: academic partnerships and 121–128, 135–136; community advocacy and 146; see also An-Najah National University Palestinian Welfare Association 228 Panet Raymond, Jean 95, 108, 181, 264–265 Parizeau, Jacques 147 Parliamentary Committee for the War Against Poverty (Elalouf Committee) 260 Parliamentary Elalouf Committee to Fight Poverty 37 peace-building activity: Community Advocacy (CA) centers and 247–248; cross-border partnerships and 313; development and 136; emergency medicine collaboration and 284–287, 289; Israeli-Jordanian 284–287, 289;

365

Istanbul conference and 250–251; in Jordan 228; Middle Eastern fellows and 231–233, 237–239, 243–246; MMEP and 247–248; travel difficulties and 232–233 Peres, Shimon 30, 74, 77, 88, 97 Petra, Jordan 113 Piasetzki, Myra 18 Piven, Francis Fox 114 Plocker, Sever 210 Plotnick, Stanley 115 Pollack, Dany 42 Porat, Noga 105, 107–109, 129 Potvin, Denis 184, 217 Pound, Richard 183 Price, Matt 310 Prichard, Roger 79 PRIME (Peace Research Institute in the Middle East) 184–185 Primeaux, Wayne 234 Project Genesis: AJCS funding for 19–23; complex identity of 23; Israeli visitors to 49–50; McGill University support for 41, 61; as a membership organization 18–19; Rabbinic court (beit din) suit and 21; rights-based practice and 3, 5; rights-based practice training and 45, 55, 59; storefront advocacy and 17, 22–23, 139; volunteer advocates and 17–18, 55; see also Genesis Israel Project Hear Our Voices (JCAN) 279 Project Renewal: citizen participation in 27–29; diaspora community partnership and 27, 30; Genesis Beersheba and 62–63; impact of Model Cities program on 29; Israeli implementation of 28; misuse of diaspora funds in 30; rightsbased practice and 31; see also MontrealBeersheba Project Renewal Partnership Project Renewal Local Steering Committee 37 Qatar Red Crescent 247 Qawasmi, Bassam 266 Quebec Local Community Service Centers (CLSC) 200, 224n30, 229 Queen Alia Foundation 78, 94 Queen Noor Foundation 155 Rabin, Yitzchak 46, 74–75, 93, 97–98 Rager, Itzchak: as Beersheba mayor 37–38, 61; fraud indictment 66; Genesis Beersheba advisory board selection and 47, 58; Likud party and 46–47; opposition to Genesis Beersheba 62–65

366

Index

Rania, Queen 266–267 Rashi Foundation 37 reciprocity 3, 31, 313, 315 Regev, Benny 269 Reitman, Dorothy 22 Renaud, Mario 218–220 Renewable Energy Research Center (RERC) 281 Respitz, Oscar 22 Reuveni, Yifat 140–141 Revkin, Sari 41, 44, 60, 117–118 rights-based practice: academiccommunity partnerships and 1; Community Advocacy (CA) centers and 256; concentration of power and 60; engagement with Israeli academic institutions 35; funding for 60–61; Genesis Beersheba and 52–55; ideology of coexistence and 313; Istanbul conference for 250–251; methodology for 313; nongovernmental organizations and 60–61; participation and 18; principles of 3, 5; sustainability and 220; training in 44–45; transformational change and 3, 5 Rights-Mobile program 252 Rivkin, Sari 116 Rivlin, Noa 231, 238 Rome, David 2 Rosen, Yaacov 248, 284, 287 Rosenberg, Norman 55 Rosenberg, Soryl 309 Rosenfeld, Nancy 94 Rotter, Nadia 65 Rowe, Bill 95, 154 Rubenstein, Eli 57 Rubin, Dov 62 Rudberg, Twinkle 23 Ruweide, Ahmad 277 Safadi, Najwa 189 Salah, Munther 125, 127, 143, 197 Salah, Samah 247, 281 Salameh, Bilal 189, 208, 228, 264, 280 Samaritans 125, 132n23 Samek, Marisa 310 Sana, Amal El-: awards and prizes 309–310; Bedouin outreach project 129, 131, 152, 179; career of 4; Community Advocacy (CA) Beersheba and 129, 131; founding of AJEEC 194, 309; as McGill fellow 104–105, 107–109, 112, 115; McGill PhD study and 309; work with ICAN 309–310

Sapir Academic College: characteristics of 272; community center methodology 275; MMEP partnership and 273; Mezach-The Center for Social Rights and 274–276, 307; Moshe and 49, 195, 262, 272–275, 307; rights-based practice centers and 315 Sartawi, Mohammad 89 Sarvath, Princess 112 Schwartz, Dagan 285, 287 Sderot, Israel 273–276 Sderot Rights-based Community Practice Center 274 Second Intifada: Community Advocacy (CA) assistance during 211; failure of Camp David peace summit and 190–191; impact on East Jerusalem 208–210; impact on Israeli economy 210–212; impact on Jordan 196, 213; impact on McGill programs 192–194, 197–201; impact on Nablus 204–205; impact on Palestinian centers 206–208; impact on the poor 205–208, 211–212; official end of 243, 259; Operation Defensive Shield and 203–204, 206; Palestinian Jerusalemites riots and 191; regional reactions to 192; separation wall and 203; Sharon visit to Al-Aqsa 190–191; terrorism and 202–203; violence and 191–192 Segal, Hugh 198 Segev, Dany 119–120 Sephardic Jews 6–7, 25 September 11, 2001 terrorist attacks 201–202, 213 Shakhshir, Ruweida 231, 266 Shalvi, Alice 41, 50 Shamir, Yitzhak 24, 77 Shapiro, Bernard J.: academic career of 103n22; as Ethics Commissioner of Canada 221; ICAN advisory board and 309; as McGill president 153; retirement of 302–303; support for MMEP 79–80, 149, 218–219; visit to Israel and Jordan 112–114 Shareef, Abud Ash 231 Sharm el-Sheikh Summit 259 Sharon, Ariel: death of 252; as extremist 202; Israeli disengagement from Gaza 230, 246; Likud party and 199; Operation Defensive Shield and 203; separation wall and 203; summit with Abbas 243; Temple Mount visit 190–191

Index Shatil 25, 44, 47, 116, 228 Shatil, Yitzhak 66 Shaughnessy, Adele 218–220 Shelah, L. 28 Shinar, Amnon 37, 61 Shitrit, Rafi 37, 39, 42–43, 45–46, 48, 60 Shtauber, Zvi 101 Silwadi, Najwa: Al-Quds center and 174–178, 193–194, 255–256; management committee and 219, 228; as McGill fellow 136, 141; Welfare Association and 277 social change organizations 115 social services: community needs for 13–14; decentralization of Quebec 200, 229; diaspora Jewish communities and 31; Iraqi refugees and 214, 259; Israeli budget cuts to 30, 40; Jordanian 145–146; Montréal Jewish community and 9, 14–17; Palestinian Jerusalemites and 209; volunteer advocates and 15 Sofer, Shaul 285 Steinberg, Arnold 305 Steinberg, Bleema 305 Stiglitz, Carlos 41, 44, 50, 52 Suissa, Yamin 44 Sur Baher center 278–279 Sweileh Community Center (Amman, Jordan): children’s programs at 265; community advocacy by 215–216, 254, 262, 265, 283–284, 292n51; genderbased violence projects 265–267; health information and 216; Iraqi refugees and 214; literacy services and 214–215; Middle Eastern fellows and 166, 214–215; mothers groups and 235; outreach and 167; practice center in 214; rights-based practice and 265; vision services and 214–215; volunteer advocates and 254 Swirski, Shlomo 210–211, 260 Syrian Lebanese Community Association 141 Tarawneh, Musa 135, 140, 142 Tarawneh, Qais Ibrahim 231, 238, 309 Taylor, Bob 18 terrorism 201–204, 206, 213 Thompson, Tom 42 Tibi, Naser 126, 169, 186, 192–193 Torczyner, Jim: activism and 1–5; community organizing and 1–3, 11, 12, 13–23; community work in Israel 5–8, 25–26; connections to Israel 5, 23–24; Genesis Israel and 39–43;

367

McGill University and 8–11, 13–14, 20–21, 302–307; MCHRAT and 41–42; Montreal Federation Project Renewal Missions and 31, 36–40, 54; Palestinian election observation and 241–243; rights-based practice and 3, 5–8; University of Haifa and 23–24; work in Jordan 79–99, 101–102, 112–114; work with Jewish community in Montréal 9–11, 13–23 transformational change 3, 5 Trudeau, Justin 263 Trudeau, Pierre Elliott 22 Tsahor, Zeev 273 uncertainty 31, 313 UNIFEM 254 United Jewish Appeal 25 United States Institute of Peace 219 universality 3 University of Haifa 23–24 University of Jordan: Ben-Gurion partnership 85, 87–90; development of social work program 78, 80–81, 84–85, 94–97, 99–102, 104, 128–129, 144–145, 154–155, 163–164, 196; McGill fellows at 158–159; McGill partnership 79–82, 84–85, 87–91, 95–97, 99–102, 134, 167; organizational issues at 158–159; Palestinian university partners and 128; practice center planning and 165–166, 196–197 University of Vermont 95 University Partnerships in Cooperation and Development 110 U.S. Model Cities Program 29 Van Dusen, Lisa 228–229, 264 Verter, Yossi 202 volunteer advocates: Beersheba, Israel 55, 69–70; Community Advocacy (CA) Jerusalem and 71; Community Advocacy (CA) Lod 270–271; community organizing and 17; Community Service Center (Nablus, Palestine) 170–171, 253–254, 260–261, 281; Project Genesis and 17–18; social services and 15; storefront advocacy and 17; Sweileh Community Center (Amman, Jordan) 254 Wallach, Janet 136 Waller, Harold M. 10 Weinberg, Yoav 135, 140

368

Index

Weinblatt, Jimmy: academic partnerships and 194–195; emergency medicine collaboration and 284–287; Israel Community Action Network and 295; MMEP and 219, 228, 240, 256, 284; peace-building activity and 240, 244; PRIME and 184; Sapir Academic College and 273 Welfare-to-Work Wisconsin Program 279 Western Negev region 272–273 Wexler, Gabi 47–48 Whelan, Susan 219–220 Williams, Jasmine 3, 14, 163, 307 Wolfensohn, James 259 women: Al-Quds center services for 209, 234–235, 255; Bedouin 35, 152, 180, 194, 212; empowerment and 93–94, 255, 265–267, 279; gender-based violence projects and 135, 265–267; Iraqi refugee 213–214; JCAN Legal Clinics and 279; Jordanian rights and 78; micro-economic projects and 254; rights in Islam 266; Sweileh Community Center and 214–216,

235, 254–255; vision and reading services 214; Wahdat camp skills training 163 Women Aware 139 Women in Black 76, 199 Women in Green 76 Women’s Organization of Lagiya 105 Woodall, Andrew 107, 182 Woods, Irene 310 World Bank 205 World Zionist Organization 24 Wye River Memorandum 147, 156n14 Yedid 116–118 Younes, Carole 56, 72 Youth Rights Initiative (MCHRAT) 107 Zara, Arik 231 Zatara, Dalia 231 Ze’evi, Rehavam 202 Zenid 93–94 Zik, Sarit 190, 201 Zionism 84 Zionist Organization of America 24