Neutrality, Solidarity, and Activist Sustainability: Dialogue for Palestine

In the last year, in discussions and actions around Palestine, we have experienced protest and dialogue being treated as complete opposites. We therefore seek to reclaim dialogue as a practice that is consistent with protest, particularly in situations where calls for dialogue are weaponised to suppress actions, diverting attention from underlying issues to questioning the language, tone, and political correctness of dissent. It is increasingly important to challenge this (mis)use of dialogue as a tool to ‘civilise’ protestors and enclose dissent within the boundaries of respectability.

Instead, dialogue should be used to amplify actions and redirect the gaze to concerns which are often obscured by the ‘civilising mission’. In the case of Palestine, dialogue can offer a way to enrich our understanding and inform our response to the genocide. Our dialogue below stands as an invitation for others to also share their reflections, and a call to dialogue in ways that create discursive space for genuine transnational solidarity with Palestine and all connected social justice struggles in the world.

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Lyla: Building on this theme of dialogue being misused to stifle dissent, I tend to feel that the demand for neutrality is just another way to enforce the status quo and is inherently unjust. Chris, why do you think a position of neutrality needs to be challenged?

Chris: Taking a ‘neutral’ position on the genocide in Palestine has been increasingly used by educational, social, political, and funding institutions to justify inaction. It is a convenient ideological device that is not only morally and legally indefensible but often hides institutional complicity in the Israeli occupation and apartheid. When I see an institution taking a position of neutrality, it immediately raises red flags. Challenging neutrality not only entails an ideological dimension but also includes pressuring institutions to divest from material relations that are directly and indirectly involved in financing the genocide.

I got involved with the Atlantic Fellows for Palestine, a self-organised group of Fellows from across all the seven Atlantic Fellows programmes, much later than you, Lyla, but one of the things you said which has stuck with me is how stopping a genocide may not be in our power, but calling on our institutions to disclose, divest, and repair is. That was really generative for me at a time when I was feeling helpless and powerless.

Student encampments have also become a reservoir of inspiration and moral clarity in these dark times. I am wondering if you can share how student encampments have shaped your work on Palestine?

Lyla: I have visited a few encampments around the United Kingdom and my impression of them is that they are thoughtful, reflective, and largely quiet spaces. Media coverage has often painted a hostile picture, but what I witnessed was very different. I've seen students care for each other and develop a range of thought-provoking activities. These include group readings of the report by archivists and librarians, or group sew-ins, many building on the narratives of sustained, peaceful resistance, and memorialisation.

In Oxford, students tried to create a memorial garden but the University brought in bulldozers to destroy it, which was a bit on the nose to be honest. I think the whole response to encampments by university administrations has been bizarrely hostile and turned what could be spaces for dialogue into spaces of conflict. Even at LSE, where the AFSEE Programme is based, the administration decided to evict students through legal action, which, in my opinion, was unnecessarily heavy-handed.

It comes back to what you highlighted before, that we each need to do what we can to act within our sphere of influence. It seems like the focus of the demands from student encampments is to do with ensuring that their fees are used ethically, and don't cause further harm through investments in weapons or climate harm, which seems completely reasonable and correct to me. Seeing these demands shaped my own thinking, away from calls for a ceasefire, which would of course be wonderful, but is not even remotely in my power to achieve. Instead, focusing on how institutions that I am involved with contribute to the violence against Palestinians, and trying to address that, seems like a meaningful approach which has potential to lead to concrete changes through collective voice and action.

Chris: I like your observation that student encampments are quiet spaces of care and mutual support. That is something we don’t talk about enough. We should also mention the local communities that have responded to student callouts for food, water, camp supplies, and offered other forms of welfare and solidarity support. It goes to show that community care lies at the heart of how these camps are sustained and socially reproduced.

I have also been amazed by the amount of rigour that students have put into research to inform their activism. A case in point is the Assets in Apartheid report, led by LSE students and produced in collaboration with LSE staff. It seems like a push from students to get academia to refocus on research that matters, amid increasing academic preoccupation with global rankings and publication metrics.

I suppose one of the main differences between students and a group like the Atlantic Fellows for Palestine is that Fellows are spatially and temporally dispersed. Organising across different locations and time zones, and building transnational solidarity can be challenging, and comes with a different set of dynamics. But transnational solidarity is so important given the global imperialist character of the Israeli occupation and apartheid. I know you are doing some work on activist burnout, so can you provide some reflections on how activists organising in this space can be better understood and supported to undertake the demanding task of building transnational solidarity for Palestine?

Lyla: Well, actually when I started my research project on burnout, I was not burnt out, but by the end, I was in a really bad place, feeling both exhausted and hopeless. I was worn out by the constant state of fear for family, and the horrific genocide unfolding in Palestine, each story more devastating and grotesque than the last. I also felt a sense of despair with organisations like the Atlantic Institute, which, in my opinion, were not being as responsive as required in interrogating what a genuine commitment to equity might actually mean in this situation. Many days I struggled to do anything meaningful, and I felt really guilty about that, such a spiral of doom!

However, conducting my research on burnout among disability activists, and talking to activists, some newer, some seasoned, was really powerful. They had all experienced burnout in different ways but generally felt that their activism was a net gain in their lives. Many felt called to be part of a wider social justice community and several are also active in various Palestine groups, drawing parallels around our collective liberation. One of them told me that ‘none of us are free until we're all free’.

What I have learned from them is that we need to show compassion to ourselves and to each other, to carry each other along as a collective. There's a saying in Ghana, where I live, which I really believe in, ‘if you want to go fast, go alone, but if you want to go far, go together’.

Chris: Thank you for sharing your personal encounters with burnout, and some insights from your research. They are really valuable. Institutions have been privatising transnational solidarity, keeping support within personal and community spaces, but shirk responsibilities when it comes to providing meaningful institutional support. We certainly need longer and deeper conversations on these topics!

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The views expressed in this post are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the position of the authors' institutions, the Atlantic Fellows for Social and Economic Equity programme, the International Inequalities Institute, or the London School of Economics and Political Science.