makchic’s publisher, Laych Koh shares her thoughts on culture, changes and current events in her new monthly column, The Dilated Pupil.
I think we women and mothers were born for strong stuff, but I don’t think we were cut out for images of dead or injured children.
There is something visceral and deeply painful about seeing pictures and videos of dead or injured children or babies; we feel immediate distress and pain. I don’t think I have been the only mother who has shed tears just by looking at these images from the Israeli-Palestine conflict. It isn’t natural for us to look at so much death and suffering, and particularly, of young ones. We feel it in our gut, it trails through our bodies.
That could be my child too, that’s the end of someone’s little love, that’s my baby. It’s not my baby, but that’s my baby.
Over here in makchic, we have been struggling with what we must, or should say in times like these. We have seen what you have seen, we have tried to make sense of things as adults. We shed tears in dark rooms and continue being the grown-ups in our families, busy with routines, parenting our little ones. We hope that it is clear to our readership that just like all parents out there, we want an immediate ceasefire so that children and families are protected, we want the return of abducted and detained children and families, and for a pathway to peace and safety for all.
And what can we do or say to this end, something that is not performative or based on knee-jerk reaction? What if what we say is too much, or not enough? Are we using the right words, or will we be shouted down? What do we need to do to calm and steady ourselves, yet do right by our conscience as human beings against oppression? I speak for my team when I say this is not easy for any of us – we are neither political analysts, nor experts at conflict resolution. We aren’t even parenting or psychology experts. We only have our experiences and the knowledge that we’re trying our best for our children.
Navigating these conversations
But perhaps this is when we need to dig deep into our personal experiences and strengths. Personally, in my role as a mother and teacher of young children, my primary focus is to educate myself further on the issue, so I understand things as best I can, and in line with my values. I need to be able to relay the facts and lessons, distilling serious and complex information into something appropriately succinct, so a child can understand.
When my 8-year-old son saw me wearing a tee-shirt with a Palestine flag last week, he referenced the Hamas attack on Israel and questioned me with: “Aren’t they the ones who killed lots of people the other day?” It was not an easy conversation to have, and it took a while (and a big pause) to break things down with a very simplified backgrounder. I used the most basic and relatable examples as I could – how adults (and children) respond to wrongdoings or injustice, how we sometimes lash out or commit wrongdoings ourselves, how it can be extremely hard to forgive and move on. Children understand these things better than we think, if we can use the right examples.
After a basic explainer about the conflict, my son said: “Well then, what’s going to happen? Are they just going to keep on killing each other, and it never ends?”
I wish I had a more comprehensive answer for my young son, but all I could say at that moment was “I don’t know, I hope it does end.” I could only lean in into my experiences and work as a teacher and a former journalist. I reminded him about universal values like love and respect, and that everyone has their human rights. That wars and conflicts have happened all over the world since time immemorial, and that anger, fear and aggression are co-related and an unfortunate part of the human experience. Talking to children about serious topics can be an interesting exercise in testing your core values – how should we face a bully? Is violence okay? Is killing a person always wrong?
The long road to reconciliation
Having studied political reconciliation as a master’s student, I also personally use this particular knowledge and interest to ground myself for my own sense of calm and hopefulness. I am hungry for information about past peace agreements in deeply protracted conflicts, specifically the deadly sectarian violence in Northern Ireland, as well as the Sri Lankan Conflict, both of which lasted approximately 30 years. However, ethnic, religious and ideological conflicts often have deep roots, and reconciliation is often a complex and ongoing challenge.
A particular area of interest for me as a political sociology student was Truth and Reconciliation Commissions, which are established in countries that have suffered intractable and deep conflicts or genocide, such as Rwanda, East Timor and South Africa. The commissions are established as part of the healing and reconciliation process, because part of the peace process has to entail uncovering the truth about human rights violations.
It is based on the idea that in order to move on, perpetrators have to be made accountable for their actions, and victims – often suffering longstanding grief – need to be heard or seen via testimony. This intersection of truth, accountability and forgiveness is important because – as we have seen in this conflict – rage multiplies when people feel their truths are not believed or listened to. Both sides accuse each other of psychological warfare and propaganda, and everyone is subject to their own biases, media exposure or even informational choices.
The questions we need to ask
Malaysians, especially Malaysian Muslims, have been proud and longstanding supporters of Palestine. But do they have any Jewish friends? Have they asked them, or their international friends, or their non-Muslim friends what they think about this topic? Have they noticed some silence, fear or hesitation there? Would they be able to see or wonder why this is so, and consider how everyone has their own personal anxieties, experiences or biases? Are people angry and assuming that others don’t care, or can they make space for people who are troubled by Hamas as an organisation?
People can be anti-oppression, but also concerned about expressions against injustice degenerating into intolerance and antisemitism. Minority groups around the world should know what this feels like – to be Othered. Families of immigrants, refugees and other minority groups know what it is like to be told we don’t belong, or to feel insecure about our place and the space we take up. Processing this intense conflict based on notions of land, home, rights and belonging is incredibly layered for different groups, and we will not know these complexities until we talk with each other more honestly and openly, in safe spaces.
‘All Jews are this and that’, ‘All Muslims are so and so’, and so on and so forth goes the tarring of entire groups with the same brush. It is clear that even longtime anti-occupation peacemakers within Israel are in a tough space, as many they know are still grieving deaths and worried about abducted family members, which include children and the elderly.
Anger against atrocities is right and justified, but where can that anger go, if it then turns us into people who cannot see someone else’s anger and despair, or deem their truths as lies? If nobody believes each other and facts are subjective, how does a conflict end?
What parents can do
What does this all mean for us as parents, and as human beings wanting to effect change, in whatever small way we can? Perhaps we can try to take a step back and know that it is okay to pause and learn. As parents, my husband and I frequently ask our children: Are you the problem solver, or part of the problem? Against the backdrop of an inflamed crisis and atrocities that make us feel helpless, many of us are wondering what else we can do, besides hoping and calling out for a ceasefire.
What is completely out of our hands, and what can we do in our own spheres of influence?
I don’t know about you, but I am going to look for the peacemakers and bridge-builders out there for clues and guidance. I will look for those I respect and trust, and who I feel will always try to be consistent when it comes to humanity-affirming values. I will seek my friends who are better than me at analysing news, or political events. I will ask my friends from other backgrounds about their opinions and feelings, and diversify my sources of information.
Empathy means trying to be in someone else’s shoes, and it doesn’t work if we only care about others wearing ours.
Don’t get me wrong – despite all I have said, I falter a lot. I veer between feelings of emotional despair and sanguine curiosity, and I have more questions than answers. But I would rather be in this space, than only seething in helpless anger.
What about you, fellow parents? Do you have a skillset or understanding that can help ground you, so you can navigate this better for yourself, your families and others? If you’ve been angry and fighting battles online out there, take a breath with us amid the fury and despair.
May we mothers and women around the world be the peacemakers and bridge-builders when others swirl in unrestrained rage.
It’s not my baby, but that’s my baby. They are all our babies, we know what it took to bring them into this world. Let us protect and love them all.
