When one is traveling to a new and far land, research is necessary. Naturally, one seeks to gain an understanding of the foreign place’s customs and how to relate to them, as well historical background in relation to interactions with neighboring countries and overall status as a global actor. It is a prerequisite to lift off. As a Jew with one parent born in Israel and for that matter, a whole gathering of Israeli family members, I need more than a “prerequisite” to visit the country I am currently in route to: The Arab Republic of Syria.
Of course you must wonder how somebody with my background should end up in such a place. Throughout my prerequisite travel, I have in fact repeatedly been asked the same question, which only makes me wonder, "What in the world am I doing?" On paper I am participating in a George Mason University course called Syria in Practice and Reflection through the Institute of Conflict Analysis and Resolution (ICAR). Focusing on the work of Dr. Marc Gopin and his successes in establishing long-term relations with members of Syrian society, this course discusses the theory of citizen diplomacy and its practice within a police state. How can one challenge the status quo when eyes are always tacitly watching and ears are always yearning for more to inform on? How can one foster the relationships crucial to societal change if one partner is a visitor and the other partner is a resident who could face consequences from his or her closed society by the formation of a partnership with an outsider. These questions multiply easily, which is confusing, frustrating, and frightening. This is where you can find me right now. I am confused, frustrated (granted tired from the almost 24 hour traveling spree), and I am nervously on the frightened side.
I knew this was coming before setting foot on a plane. My slight nervousness began several weeks ago and has persisted, growing heavier as the day to leave approached. Of course my parents, who were being good, concerned Jewish parents, did not ease this process. What worries me most of all though is that I am not sure which actions are harmful to my safety verses which actions are simply permissible. There are of course obvious actions that would be harmful. My concern is not the black and white, but the gray. For example, I was told that I should not reveal my Jewish identity and hide all evidence of it. Keeping my identity a secret could be a matter of safety and protection from harm, yet hiding who I am is also harmful to me emotionally and mentally as a human being. My identity, a fabric of ideas, experiences, and familial history, is my everyday existence.
Not only admitting an inner respect for my identity, my name provides many indicators of my background. Shoshana, a Hebrew name meaning Rose in English, and even beyond that, an Israeli name! What if, upon introducing myself, a Syrian citizen asks me what my name means or its origin? What am I to say? To avoid the situation, what if I introduce myself with the English translation, Rose. A simple fix one can deduct, but Rose is not my real name in everyday life or written on my passport. In addition, I was told a few weeks ago by a New York City Buddhist cab driver that I looked like a Jew. Does that count as a harmful characteristic? Will the Syrians be able to recognize, upon my looks of semi-curly blonde hair and dark blue eyes, that I am a Jew? If we continued, we could analyze whether my main e-mail address that I was planning on not using because of the many references to my background, will become a threat since I find that I must check it daily anyway. Or how about the new e-mail address that I told my loved ones to reach me with? What if somebody slips up, unknowingly, and writes something that could put me in harm’s way? How about Skype chat or video chat? What about my necklace that I always wear, portraying Hebrew letters on two tablets next to the little chamsah my Tunisian students purchased for me as a gift this past summer. Will I need to hide the Hebrew tablets in my shirt or on the backside of my neck, because I refuse to take it off? It is a Catch 22. My strong willed nature might put myself in harm's way, and yet on the other hand, I am held hostage by the fear of revealing my identity and yet of being forced to hide my identity.
On my first flight I was told by the passenger in my aisle, “YOU, going to Syria? But you are a Jew!” While waiting at the London Heathrow gate for my second and final flight to Damascus, I found myself whispering my identity to my new classmates. I was even given a little scribbled note on the back of a train ticket scrap from an American businessman stating:
"Do Enjoy ur trip. Careful who you Reveal to. 1 in 3 men in Syria work For Secret police. Your group will be watched. Phones are not secure. Nor is email. Don’t be afraid."
Again, how could I not be afraid receiving this informative note WWII style? Finally once on the second plane and entering the same whispered conversations with a British passenger in my aisle, he praised my efforts and said that what I was doing was proper in order to learn about the other side. I nodded my head and said, “I know, I know”, perhaps like a dummy. Experience is the best teacher and in citizen diplomacy watching from afar is not enough. There is only one question left in mind now. For those who have faith to venture into the world of the "other side" to expand understanding and foster relationships, when does the cost become too high?
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