Abstract
Being an Arab lecturer in a Jewish academic institution under fire has challenged me as a professional, a researcher, and a lecturer. Social workers often function in the context of conflicts, but the practice focuses on normative social problems such as domestic violence, poverty, and crime rather than the effects of the conflict on social workers and their clients. In my academic institution, which for years has been in a conflict area and under fire, students are not equipped with relevant knowledge and skills. This article analyzes my personal narrative documented during three of Israel’s wars with the Gaza Strip.
Sapir Academic College is a public college in Israel. It is located in the center of the arid Negev region, some 15 km from the Gaza Strip. The college’s geographic and social location is an area of continuing political and national conflict, manifested in innumerable Grad and Qassam rockets and incendiary balloons from the Gaza Strip and countless attacks by the Israel Defense Forces on the Gaza Strip. This conflict has intensified during the current war between Israel and Hamas (the Islamic Resistance Movement), which controls the Gaza Strip, and the concurrent conflict between Arabs and Jews within Israel and in the West Bank in the wake of violence in Al-Aqsa Mosque in Jerusalem.
The college’s students—Jewish (85%) and Arab (15%) citizens of Israel—study in all the departments, including the School of Social Work, which is training a generation of social workers and presumably inculcating the values of the profession. The college’s location provides an opportunity for teaching about social justice and the ramifications of the political conflict for civilians. But the curriculum is influenced by the adoption of a neutral stance. That is, it rejects the connection of the Arab students and faculty to the Palestinian people and Palestinian identity, choosing instead to relate to all the students as Israelis. The neutral stance is also expressed by ignoring traditional knowledge—the indigenous knowledge of Israel’s Arab population, which defines itself as an indigenous people—and the importance of using such knowledge in the practice of social work. By adopting such a stance, choosing not to touch on the conflict, and continuing the routine of studies, the school is missing the opportunity to enable students to learn from one another, get to know each other’s views, and refute the prejudices that often underlie the worsening of the conflict.
Traditional knowledge (indigenous knowledge) is defined as skills and philosophies developed by societies with a long history of interaction with their natural environment. This knowledge is an inseparable part of the cultural complex that includes language, practices, use of resources, social interactions, rituals, and spirituality (Dumbrill & Greene, 2008). Indigenous knowledge is unique to cultures, settlements, and societies and is acquired by local populations through their everyday experience. It is holistic knowledge but also relative. Therefore, knowledge cannot be owned by a single person (e.g., the researcher) because it is shared by everyone whom the Creator put on the earth. This worldview is very different from that of Western societies (Hiller & Carlson, 2018).
Moreover, by adopting a neutral stance, social work educators in Israel may distort the perception of the conflict in the region. Thus, they may miss an opportunity to educate toward social justice and to relate to both populations harmed in the conflict—the Israelis and the Palestinians on the other side of the fence. The educators may also miss the opportunity to help their students understand their power and ability to bring about change even at the political level.
Having to teach from a neutral stance while being under fire raised questions for me about social work’s professed support of social justice as well as boundaries, human encounters under fire, personal knowledge, and traditional knowledge.
Social Justice
Social justice is a general concept regarding the conditions and rules that ought to exist and arrange relations between human beings and between them and social institutions (Lambert, 2018). The principles of social justice derive from morality and human dignity and are devoid of bias. According to some streams in the liberal tradition, principles of justice do not prefer a particular view of good over another, and all apply equally to all human beings. We teach these principles in connection with our students’ future service users, but we miss the opportunity to examine whether in the institution in which we work and educate social justice exists with regard to social work. By adopting a neutral stance, we open the door to a particular mechanism of color blindness, whereby the white management, faculty, and students allow themselves to argue that members of the minority are misinterpreting their experiences. Social justice cannot exist where there is a neutral stance. Neutrality feeds and intensifies the color blindness. In times of war and conflict, the neutral stance can suppress the conflict, and this can give rise to other problems, perhaps of violence toward the dominant majority (Marsh, 2005).
Social justice also addresses the equitable distribution of resources. Arab students are the ones most harmed in times of conflict and war because, for example, they do not have the infrastructure that would enable them to engage in distance learning like the Jewish majority of the students. Social justice can be implemented first of all in the space, the atmosphere, and the curricula of the campus where Arab and Jewish students—who represent the parties in conflict—study together (Doron, 2013).
Expanding the Boundaries of Social Work Teaching/Education
Being a lecturer under fire together with students creates a shared experience of fear, worry, and trauma which requires renewed consideration of the boundaries between lecturer and student.
O’Leary et al. (2013) propose a model of connection rather than separation. It puts the service user in the center of the array of boundaries, thus promoting connection and the use of self rather than professional distancing and separation. In light of this model, lecturers must create boundaries that connect them to their students. Such a connection will enable closeness, thus creating an encompassing and receptive atmosphere rather than an experience of distance and alienation.
As a lecturer in social work, I have felt unease at the sight of the fear and worry in my students’ eyes when there is a red alert and a rocket falls. The fear and the worry about their families touch me and upset me. I have made room for the expression of their feelings and reflective observation of what they are experiencing, but I have maintained a boundary that has prevented me from sharing my personal experiences and fears and my concerns for my extended family on both sides of the border.
I will use the model of expanding boundaries as an invitation to reexamine the student–lecturer relationship and the boundaries of knowledge used in social work education. I believe that social work educators should allow room for self-expression and self-awareness. They should also rely on intuition—theirs and their students’—and should know when, and when not, to use the conflict, the personal experience of it, and personal and traditional knowledge. In the event that this can cause harm, the professional boundaries must remain rigid, but in the event that it can support and empower, the boundaries must be expanded and be flexible and encompassing.
Human Encounter Under Fire and the Untold Story
For me, being an Arab lecturer teaching Jewish students in Israel is not a neutral encounter in times of war and regional conflict, especially because I have a grandmother and uncles on the other side of the border. I have often felt that I represent this conflict, even if I did not choose to do so. Belonging to one nationality and working with another has created a situation that cannot be ignored. In times of war, I see my students’ worry and fear. Like them, I am worried and afraid. I allow them to answer phone calls and to reassure their parents, and in these moments, I think of my grandmother who is also under fire and who is also terrified, and I too would like to phone and ask how she is without worrying that this phone call may entangle me with the security service. I too feel a need to share this complex experience, be authentic, teach our shared situation, and allow room for mutual learning about the complexity of being a social worker under fire and being a Jewish student of an Arab lecturer who represents the conflict.
Many thoughts run through my mind. Should I share? Is this the place? Is it professional? What will my students think of the lie between us? What do they want to know?
One student’s question cuts short the flood of thoughts. She asks how I am and if everything is okay. I look at her and the other students, and I feel their real desire to hear about my experience. I, too, have a strong desire to hear from them, what it is like for them to be the students of an Arab lecturer, a lecturer who represents the Arab–Jewish conflict. Our story is untold and has no academic platform.
The desire to maintain boundaries created the distance between my students and me, instead of creating an accepting and encompassing space, especially in times of war and political conflict. This is a missed opportunity for mutual learning through personal experience and personal and traditional knowledge that each one of us has.
When we hear the red-alert siren, my students and I hurry to the protected area and together wait to hear the fall. At the same time, we can hear clearly what is happening on the other side of the border, the sounds of the mortars that rattle my inner world, and the worry about my grandmother and uncles increases with the increasing sound of the bombs. The time we spend in the shelter is brief, and immediately, we return to our studies as if nothing has happened.
One day, there was a heavy volley of fire toward Sderot, the nearby city, and an equally powerful attack on the Gaza Strip. We continued studying, and then, the weeping of a student stopped everything. She said she could not stand it anymore and that the situation on both sides was so sad. According to her, we, the Israelis, have bomb shelters and safe places, we have alarm systems, but what about the children on the other side of the border? How do they protect themselves? How does it affect them? There was a special opportunity to expand the boundaries and teach about the ramifications of conflict and secondary trauma for social workers worldwide. Expanding the borders in such a situation could be effective in the training of students.
The student’s crying, from a pure, honest, and true place, aroused in me the desire to share and teach about a shared experience, social work in times of conflict, and prejudice. The field is rich, and expanding the boundaries can also broaden their professional knowledge as future social workers.
Personal Knowledge and Traditional Knowledge as Resources in Teaching Social Work
To whom does knowledge belong? Who creates it? What is our role as social work educators in casting doubt on this knowledge and using our and our students’ traditional and personal knowledge? Does academe make that possible? Does the encounter between nationalities make it possible?
What is personal knowledge and traditional knowledge and how can it be a resource in social work? Personal knowledge has not received enough attention in the practice of social work and in the training of social workers.
The separation between the professional me and the personal me occurs in the practical training process when the supervisors are the professional gatekeepers, and the supervised fulfill the demands of their supervisors. Sometimes, however, fulfilling the tasks does not converse with the students’ personal me. Alienation arises between the personal me and the professional me. Yet, combining the personal me with the professional me is considered an ethical obligation. The use of self is an essential and inevitable characteristic of social work practice. Some describe the personal me as a tool the social worker can use to promote change as an artist can use paint (Elliott, 2000).
The vision statement of the School of Social Work at Sapir Academic College includes the following: The School of Social Work aims to promote social justice and welfare for individuals, groups, and communities. To achieve these aims the school strives to train and promote professionals with great social and self-awareness, who act on the basis of the values of the profession and professional knowledge, and who are capable of studying and developing initiatives and responses together with excluded populations in the region and worldwide—through training, research, education, and field practice.
In the process of occupation and colonization, states have tried to subjugate the indigenous people by eradication of indigenous knowledge and sometimes even by reviling it as primitive knowledge (Owusu-Ansah & Mji, 2013).
It is not by chance that Yellow Bird (2010) argues that social work education collaborates with political structures that can distort the needs of those harmed in situations of regional conflict. The political structures can influence the definition of the problems of the inhabitants of conflict areas. Therefore, it is important that social workers not adopt a neutral position (Jones, 1998).
However, social workers are required to deal with the problems defined by those in power rather than try to change the definitions. Who defines an excluded population? What are the boundaries of this population? Is the Palestinian population in the Gaza Strip not an excluded population? Should one develop programs with that population too? Who defines the boundaries of what is permitted and what is forbidden? Are we the professionals? Or the politicians? It is important that this discourse receive a platform in social work teaching.
Summary and Conclusions
In conclusion, I would like to quote Rich (1986): When those who have power to name and to socially construct reality choose not to see you or hear you, whether you are dark-skinned, old, disabled, female, or speak with a different accent or dialect than theirs, when someone with the authority of teacher, say, describes the world and you are not in it, there is a moment of psychic disequilibrium, as if you looked into a mirror and saw nothing. (p. 199)
Social work education can expand to include knowledge of postcolonial social work and indigenous social work. Social work is a profession with a mission, and this mission also includes us as educators and as sources of knowledge for our students. Therefore, expanding the boundaries so they are encompassing and not divisive can be an effective educational model.
When I first started teaching, I was afraid to share or even display my feelings. I did not yet have tenure and was afraid that voicing my feelings might stymie my professional advancement. Now that I am a tenured senior lecturer in the same institution, I feel freer. This article is the product of a personal process that I am undergoing, and it is important to me to teach my students that a sense of security and protection are prerequisites of change.
I have been exposed to much prejudice of the majority regarding the minority and the participants in the war. Open dialogue clarifies things and opens new horizons for the students. It makes them sensitive to the pain of the other. My message is that my pain does not cancel their pain and that my identity should not threaten their identity. Furthermore, the pain and identity on both sides of the conflict should not be threatening. The discussion and open dialogue of people on both sides do not take away their humanity.
I try to introduce another voice in the school in which I teach. This year, I created a special cluster for third-year students in which they study a course on social work and conflict and a course on indigenous social work. In addition, the students do their practical training in the Israeli Arab population and are exposed directly to the conflict. They also study issues related to the conflict as part of a research seminar.
Within the college, I express the need for dialogue that draws people closer together and for creating international programs with the Palestinians. I hope I succeed despite the special complexity of this being an Israeli institution and Palestinian institutions’ concerns regarding normalization of relations.
Footnotes
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The author(s) declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The author(s) received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
