Rick Steves Travel as a Political Act

by Rick Steves

  Thoughtful travel teaches us that countries like Iran are on evolutionary tracks that come with strong headwinds of fear. Impatience can make a bad situation worse—as we’ve seen in places like Iraq or Egypt. With patience and an understanding that progress is more successful when it comes organically from within rather than forced from outside, it’s my hope that societies like Iran can become free on their terms. Recent changes in Iran’s post-Ahmadinejad government are reason to be hopeful and exercise continued patience.

  Granted, there’s no easy solution, but surely getting to know Iranian culture is a step in the right direction. Hopefully, even the most skeptical will appreciate the humanity of 70 million Iranian people. Our political leaders sometimes make us forget that all of us on this small planet are equally precious children of God. Having been to Iran and meeting its people face-to-face, I feel this more strongly than ever.

  Chapter 9

  The Holy Land: Israelis and Palestinians Today

  How Did We Get Here?

  Fabled Jerusalem: Steeped in History, Politics, and Religion

  Jerusalem’s Unforgettable Yad Vashem Holocaust Memorial

  An Appreciation for Israel’s Determined Pioneers

  Israel’s Dogged Determination to Keep the High Ground

  Christian Pilgrims Flock to the Sea of Galilee

  Bethlehem: Gateway to Palestine

  Walls and Settlements: It’s About Land… Like Holy Land Monopoly

  The Beauty of Palestine: Olives, Bedouins, and Salty Seas

  A Synagogue, a Mosque, and Bulletproof Glass: Jews and Muslims Sharing Abraham in Hebron

  A Stroll Through Balata Refugee Camp

  Ramallah, Palestine’s De Facto Capital

  Israelis and Palestinians: Who’s Right, Who’s Wrong… Who Knows?

  The land Israelis and Palestinians occupy is, for a third of humanity, literally holy land. For Christians, this is where Jesus was crucified and rose from the dead. For Muslims, this is from where Muhammad journeyed to heaven. And for Jews, it’s where the Temple of Solomon stood. The epic stories of the three great monotheistic religions on this planet have played out on this tiny piece of real estate, which has been coveted and fought over for centuries. The struggles here are difficult, and the stakes are high. While one man’s terrorist may be another man’s freedom fighter, the fact is that in recent decades, people on both sides have suffered terribly.

  Conflict in the Middle East is a huge issue for the USA. Like it or not, we are deeply involved in this problem. And considering our unwavering commitment to Israel’s security, we have a responsibility to be engaged in finding a durable solution.

  “Travel is a force for peace” is a nice slogan. To help make that slogan a reality, I traveled to Israel and Palestine in 2013 with the goal of producing television shows to help my American viewers better understand this troubled land. Several of my friends asked me whether I really wanted to wade into the quagmire of Israel and Palestine, where it seems like anyone who probes for the truth will anger people on one side or the other. But I believe that the vast majority of Americans are not partisan on the issues here. My agenda was simply to be balanced and honest. I espoused a “dual narrative” approach: Giving voice to reasonable and rational people from both sides of the thorny issues. It seems to me that open-minded people want to hear a variety of perspectives, and be given the opportunity to form their own opinions.

  For me, exploring the Holy Land wasn’t just educational—it was actually fun, because I flew there knowing so little, and I find that being steep on the learning curve in my travels is a joy. Old dogs can learn new tricks when traveling to complicated places with an appetite to learn. And I’ve found that the best way to do that is to get out of my comfort zone and simply talk to people. In this chapter, I’ll share the lessons I brought home. Equipped with open minds, we’ll visit each side, in alphabetical order: first Israel, then Palestine. Let’s go.

  How Did We Get Here?

  Troubled regions like the Middle East often struggle with a “Who was here first?” debate. And in the Holy Land, that question has no easy answer. The Arabs and Jews who call this region home share a family tree that goes back nearly 4,000 years. That’s when, according to tradition, the prophet Abraham—called the patriarch—had two sons: From Isaac came the Israelites, while Ismael spawned the Arabs. That means that today’s Jews and Arabs are cousins: They share similar DNA, speak closely related languages, and have a genuine historical claim to this land.

  This ancient ethnic mix is complicated by religions. Israelites were Jewish. Christians worship Jesus, a Jew who brought his own message. And today, most Arabs here are Muslim—a religion that arrived much later, in the seventh century, with their prophet, Muhammad. Here in the Holy Land—where Muslims, Jews, and Christians celebrate their Sabbath on different days—Friday, Saturday, and Sunday are each holy days for some part of the population.

  Throughout the centuries, this region endured waves of conquerors—from pagan Roman legions to Christian Crusaders to Muslim Ottomans. In A.D. 70, the Romans destroyed the main Jewish temple in Jerusalem, laid siege to a valiant last stand of Jewish rebels at the mountaintop fortress of Masada (which ended in mass suicide), and exported Jews as slaves, beginning what’s known as the Diaspora. The Jews dispersed throughout the world, mostly settling in Europe, where they suffered centuries of oppression culminating in the Holocaust.

  During those centuries, the Arabs (and a small minority of Jews) continued living in this land as it was batted between various outside powers. Until the 20th century, the entire area was called “Palestine,” as it had been in Roman times.

  Meanwhile, beginning in the late 19th century, “Zionism”—a movement inspired by visionaries such as Theodor Herzl in the Austro-Hungarian Empire—spurred Jews worldwide to dream of creating a modern state in their ancestral homeland. During World War I, when Palestine was ruled by British mandate, the Balfour Declaration set the stage to make this a reality, and Jews began to return to Palestine to claim the land. After the Holocaust, in 1948, the modern state of Israel was officially formed. That trickle of immigration became a flood, as Jews from Europe, Arab lands of the Middle East, and beyond came here to create Israel.

  As Jews returned to build their nation, hundreds of thousands of Palestinians were displaced. And to this day, both peoples struggle to find an equitable and peaceful way to share what they each consider their rightful homeland.

  The dividing of the Holy Land hasn’t been easy. At first, the United Nations established a border known as the Green Line. Then, in 1967’s Six-Day War, Israel launched a surprise offensive to take over land held by Jordan, Syria, and Egypt, substantially increasing its territory. Palestinians managed to hold two enclaves within Israel: the Gaza Strip (a tiny yet densely populated coastal area adjoining Egypt) and the West Bank (between Jerusalem and the Jordan River).

  Palestinians—chafing at the loss of their land and freedom—lashed out with terrorist attacks, and Israelis retaliated by turning Palestinian territories into a virtual police state. Palestinians launched their First Intifada, an armed rebellion that employed violent riots and suicide bombings (1987-1991). In 1993, the Oslo Accords (negotiated by Yitzhak Rabin and Yasser Arafat) attempted to create peace by recognizing the Palestinian Territories. The treaty was designed as a transitional agreement, until it could be phased out (in five years) to make way for a more permanent solution. But extremists both in Israel and in Palestine worked hard to undermine the peace. From 2000 to 2005, the Second Intifada brought a rash of bloody terrorist attacks in Israel, killing more than a thousand Israelis—more than three-quarters of them civilians. Israel retaliated, and Palestinians suffered three times the casualties as Israel. During the Second Intifada, Israel began to build a controversial barrier around the West Bank in the name of security from terrorism. From about 2005 through my visit in 2013, terrorist attacks from the West Bank declined dramatically, and my impression was that most West Ban
k Palestinians had decided to pursue a nonviolent approach to resolving the conflict.

  In the late 2000s, the Jewish population of Israel (around 6 million) surpassed the Jewish population in the United States for the first time. Four out of every five Israelis are Jewish, but most are non-practicing. About 20 percent of Israel’s population are Palestinians—many internally displaced persons who were not pushed over the borders of Israel in 1948, but are not allowed to return to their homes. The government calls them “Arab Israelis,” but they generally call themselves “Palestinian citizens of Israel.” Most are Muslim, while Christians make up a tiny minority. Palestinians living in Israel are, by law, full citizens with nearly the same rights as Jewish Israelis. But many feel that they’re treated as second-class citizens; they compare their situation to the plight of Civil Rights-era African Americans in the USA.

  In the Holy Land, terminology is charged with symbolic meaning and controversy. As a travel writer, I struggle with simply what to call the land of the Palestinians. Many conservative Jews and Evangelical Christians, believing this is the land God promised to the Jews, use the biblical name “Judea and Samaria.” The non-loaded “West Bank” or “Occupied Territories” would be the cautious choices. But this area was historically called “Palestine,” and in 2012, the UN General Assembly voted to grant Palestine (with that name) “non-member observer state” status. I’ve decided to follow the example of the international community. For the title of my TV show, I went with a proud and unapologetic “Palestine: Yesterday and Today.” I realize—and accept—the fact that even using the name “Palestine” will alienate many people. Sadly, these are the people who, I believe, would benefit the most from actually traveling to both sides of the Holy Land.

  Fabled Jerusalem: Steeped in History, Politics, and Religion

  Before Columbus and the illustrious class of 1500, many maps showed Jerusalem as the center of the world. Jerusalem—holy, treasured, and long fought over among the three great monotheistic religions—has been destroyed and rebuilt 14 times. Its fabled walls are so strong that its defeats often came by starve-’em-out sieges.

  Modern Jerusalem is a sprawling city with about 800,000 people. Exploring its shopping boulevards and malls, you’ll feel right at home. But its historic core, the Old City—home to around 35,000—feels lost in time. Its venerable two-mile-long Ottoman wall corrals a tangle of vibrant sights. It’s a bustling maze of winding cobblestone paths and streets, each stone carrying within it the shadows and stories of prophets, leaders, and infamous visitors of the past. Each alley, each doorway, each church, each mosque, each store, and each vendor—everyone and everything in Jerusalem has a story, waiting to be discovered and unleashed by your own curiosity.

  The mighty walls and gates of Old Jerusalem define the Old City, which is divided into four quarters: Jewish, Armenian, Christian, and Muslim.

  The golden Dome of the Rock is one of Jerusalem’s enduring landmarks. Under that glittering dome is a sacrificial stone with gutters to drain the blood spilled upon it by pagans long before there was a Jewish faith. It’s the stone upon which—according to Jewish, Christian, and Muslim tradition—Abraham prepared to prove his faith by sacrificing his son, Isaac. (Don’t worry: When it became clear that Abraham would be obedient to God’s will, God intervened, saving Isaac.) Many consider this spot to be both the starting point or foundation stone of creation, and the closest place on earth to God in heaven. Jews believe this place to be the center of the earth, and have worshipped here for 3,000 years. Muslims believe Muhammad journeyed to heaven from here 1,300 years ago. Pondering the tumult and persistent tragedy caused by the fact that three religions share a single holy rock, I wonder if God doesn’t just have a wicked sense of humor.

  For Jews, Muslims, and Christians, Jerusalem is a holy city. And ground zero of all that holiness is a much-venerated rock marked by this golden dome.

  Jews call the hill capped by the Dome of the Rock “Temple Mount”—the holiest site in Judaism. A thousand years before Christ, King David united the 12 tribes of Israel and captured Jerusalem. His son, Solomon, built the First Temple right here. It was later burned by invaders, and the Second Temple was built. Then came the catastrophic year for the Jews—A.D. 70, when the Romans destroyed their temple, ushering in the Diaspora. Only a bit of the western foundation of the wall surrounding this ancient temple complex survived. Over the centuries, throughout the Diaspora, Jews returning to Jerusalem came here to the Western Wall—the closest they could get to that holy rock—to pray and to mourn their temple’s destruction. That’s why it’s often called “the Wailing Wall.”

  For nearly 2,000 years, Jews have prayed at the Western Wall, all that survives of their destroyed temple complex on Temple Mount.

  Today, Jews still gather at the Western Wall, not only to recall a horrible past but also to pray for a better future. The square operates as an open-air synagogue, divided into a men’s section and a women’s section. The faithful believe prayers left in cracks between the stones of the Western Wall will be answered. It’s a lively scene, with intense yet private worship mixing with the joyous commotion of Jewish families from around the world celebrating bar mitzvahs—a ritual coming of age.

  Christians know Jerusalem as the place where Jesus was crucified, buried, and resurrected 2,000 years ago. Just a few minutes’ walk from Temple Mount is the Via Dolorosa—the “Way of Grief” where, it’s believed, Jesus walked as he carried his cross to be crucified. Pilgrims come from around Christendom to worshipfully retrace his steps. Today most of the Via Dolorosa feels like a touristy shopping mall, but the presence of devout pilgrims gives it a sacred feeling nevertheless.

  Their journey culminates at the site of Jesus’ crucifixion, marked by the Church of the Holy Sepulcher on the summit of Calvary Hill, or Golgotha. This dark, sprawling church is the most sacred site in Christendom. Built around the tomb, or sepulcher, of Jesus, it’s shared by seven different denominations. Because it’s holy for all kinds of Christians (who see things differently and don’t always cooperate), it’s a cluttered religious hodgepodge of various zones, each controlled by a separate sect. There are chapels for Greek Orthodox, Coptic Christians, Armenians, Ethiopians, Roman Catholics, and so on. A Greek Orthodox chapel marks the site believed to be where Jesus was crucified. A few steps away, under a grand dome, pilgrims line up to enter the Holy Sepulcher itself and place a candle near the tomb of Jesus.

  Within the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, this stone—generally surrounded by pilgrims touching it and praying—marks the spot where Jesus’ dead body was placed when taken down from the cross.

  Local Christians like to believe that even if God is everywhere, all prayers go through Jerusalem (as if it’s a cell-phone tower), and the Holy Spirit comes down to us via Jerusalem. One local joked that the Vatican has a golden phone with a direct connection to God, but the toll is $1,000. Meanwhile, the golden phone offering the same service in Jerusalem only costs 25 cents. Why? “It’s a local call.”

  Radiating out from Temple Mount is Jerusalem’s Old City, divided into four quarters. The Jewish Quarter springs from the Western Wall. The Muslim Quarter faces the Dome of the Rock. And north of the Armenian Quarter, the Christian Quarter surrounds the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. The Old City is fraught with endless little games of interfaith one-upmanship. For example, in the Muslim Quarter, the volume of call to prayer is turned up high…just to annoy the Jews.

  The Jewish Quarter is more orderly and modern than the others. Much of this area was destroyed in the 1948 fighting, or during the ensuing period of Jordanian occupation. After the Israelis took control of Jerusalem in 1967, they rebuilt this quarter. Today, when you see new stones, you’re probably in the Jewish Quarter. While it’s not convenient or economical to live in this medieval tangle, devout Jews find great joy in raising their families so close to Temple Mount.

  Ultra-Orthodox: Every Religion’s Got ’Em

  Roughly 8 percent of Israeli Jews are
ultra-Orthodox—very religious and living lives that require them to be apart in many ways. Entire districts of Jerusalem are known as ultra-Orthodox, including the fascinating quarter called Mea She’arim. I stopped by for a visit on a Friday, and found the place bustling. Since its population takes the Shabbat (holy day of rest on Saturday) very seriously, Friday is the day when everyone is preparing.

  The diversity of Israel—a nation made up mostly of Jewish immigrants from around the globe—shows itself in the way people dress and wear their hair. This is especially evident in the ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods. Most people in Mea She’arim dress very conservatively. Women’s stores have a huge selection of wigs, hats, and scarves, because after marriage, Orthodox women must cover their hair in public. And yet, there’s a surprising degree of variety within these narrow constraints.

  Simply people-watching comes with fun cultural insights. As I sat with my local friend at a café and surveyed the scene, he offered a running commentary: “The yarmulke is a constant reminder that God is always above us. The ear locks are because some embrace the scripture that says not to cut the hair on the side of your face. Men wear black as a symbol of mourning of the destruction of the Second Temple nearly two thousand years ago. The black top hats come in many varieties, and from them, you can guess which specific brand of Orthodoxy they profess—and, in some cases, which country they emigrated from.”