“For us, you don’t exist”

How can people treat other human beings with such disregard, such disrespect and such utter disdain? How can a military indiscriminately humiliate, terrorize and murder human beings? How can a government instate blatantly discriminatory provisions and laws, turning human beings into second-class (no, scratch that, tenth-class) citizens?

The only explanation I can think of to explain how the horrifying Israeli policies with regards to Palestinians came about – and can be maintained today, in 2010 – is that in the majority of Israeli eyes, Palestinians are not human beings.

How else can you justify a crippling siege that has left 1.5 million Gazans without food, medical supplies, and hope for the future? How else can you justify watching elderly women, children and everyone in between push through checkpoints like cattle? How else can you justify the imprisonment of thousands of political prisoners, most of whom have little hope of freedom?

Palestinians aren’t human beings. That’s what Arafat Ismayil was told. “In our passport, we don’t have an address that says Dahmash [the unrecognized Palestinian village (only 20 minutes from Tel Aviv) where he lives]. They say, ‘Dahmash does not exist.’ They told me, ‘For us, you don’t exist.’”

Take a minute to read that again. “For us, you don’t exist.” Not only are Palestinian citizens of Israel not human beings, they don’t even register. They don’t matter. They don’t exist.

After Arafat told me that he “doesn’t exist,” he paused. He shrugged. And then finally, he said, “That’s Israel. 2010. Democracy? No.” It still breaks my heart to see that clip of him, and to see that three-second pause.

I can’t pretend to know how he felt, telling me about the dire circumstances in which he, his family, and so many others live. How does it feel to not be wanted? How does it feel to be hated, humiliated and degraded, day after day? How does it feel to deal with housing demolitions and constant threats, and not even be able to live in a tiny, nearly destroyed village of 600 people in peace? How does it feel to not be considered a human being?

Because when it comes down to it, that’s the only way Palestinians could be treated the way they are being treated. Somewhere, someone came up with the brilliant plan: let’s not consider them human. That way, anything goes. And, as an added bonus, we’ll be able to sleep at night, knowing we aren’t hurting real people. Great!

So, how does it feel?

“I feel bad,” Arafat told me. “But I feel worse for my children. When they demolish their houses, don’t give them any chance to live, they don’t have any address, they don’t have anything… how our children will feel? In the future, this will be a big problem for my children and their children, also. One day, it will boom [blow up] in our faces.”

I spent a day with Arafat in Dhamash. He picked me up from the bus stop, introduced me to his wife Sara, offered me cup after cup of water and Arabic coffee, and had dinner with me. He is a father, a husband, and an inspirational leader in his community.

Arafat is Palestinian. He is a human being. And he’s not asking for much: “I want to live… like a person.”