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With peace accords breaking down in Israel, 2002 stands as a perfect year to see Promises, a documentary produced and directed by Justine Shapiro, B.Z. Goldberg, and Carlos Bolado. No spot on Earth has a more complex history and touches so many—religiously, sociologically, and politically. Religious leaders, newscasters, diplomats, and politicians have wandered through a Middle Eastern minefield to make sense of the region, but only have only succeeded in muddying the picture.
To get a comprehensive picture we need to see Israel from a child's point of view. And that's what the filmmakers do—they examine the Palestinian-Israeli conflict from the perspective of seven children living in and around Jerusalem, editing over 170 hours of raw footage shot between 1997 and 2000 down to 107 heart-rendering minutes. Promises becomes an ideal introduction to the conflict, making this essential viewing for anyone interested in the conflict, yet does so with complexity to help us understand the personal difficulties involved—there are no easy answers to the conflict. The documentary is no simplistic "Peace and Shalom" tee-shirt affair, but gives the heart of the situation by putting real faces on the issues in their purest form—through the children.
And these are no innocent children. Each has been touched by personal tragedy, whether it was a relative or friend that was gunned down, a relative in the Israeli army, or a parent imprisoned for political reasons. None are free to move about their region safely.
I'd heard rumors about the film's emotionality, so I had anticipated scenes along the lines of Seeds of Peace and numerous other peace-building Palestinian and Israeli youth organizations. But the moment that caused waves of salty tears to flood arrived late when Palestinian boy Faraj tearfully asks what will happen to their newfound friendships when B.Z. leaves. He realizes that the filmmakers have a short time with their project and will soon leave them to their own devices, hampered by restrictive checkpoints and a barrage of hateful propaganda fueled by centuries of conflict. The child summit becomes a microcosm of the adult conflict, making it very clear that even a temporary peace can never occur without the well-meaning intervention of a benign facilitator—in this case, B.Z. Goldberg, an American Jew who grew up near Jerusalem and studied film at New York University.
Without Goldberg, this film could never be made. Even though he's only on screen a relatively short time, his role in crossing the political and generational lines with these children remains self-evident. His non-judgmental manner and ability to gain rapport with the children comes across unmistakably, no matter how dogmatic they are in their beliefs. One of the funniest scenes involves a small Palestinian boy named Mahmoud, who supports Hamas and Hezbollah: "They kill women and children, but they do it for their country." The little guy declares that he never wants to be friends with a Jew, but becomes shocked when B.Z. reveals that he's an Israeli. Mahmoud counters—"You're half-American . . . I'm talking about authentic Jews . . . from Jerusalem." B.Z. perplexes his paradigm, for he truly is a real Jew from the area, yet has broken through Mahmoud's prejudices.
Many moments aim for the heart, and many score direct hits.
1. Palestinian Sanbal cries when reading her father's letter—he is imprisoned by the Israelis as a dangerous political dissident—and her seven-hour journey to see him ends in heartbreak.
2. Orthodox rabbi-in-training Shlomo seems agreeable to conflict resolution, but has never developed any friendships with Palestinian peers, nor does he particularly want to make any. As he speaks about being jeered by Arab boys, an unknown Palestinian boy (likely drawn by the camera) comes close and begins belching. Our future rabbi first attempts to ignore the stranger, but soon giggles, and joins in a belching contest that the filmmakers wisely preserve—a unique way of bridge building, but a universal one among 13-year olds.
3. Secular Jewish twins Yarko and Daniel have the most amenable attitudes towards conflict resolution, and use their interest in sports to create a fast friendship with athletic Palestinian Faraj—a nice juxtaposition shows both tearfully losing contests.
4. Faraj and his grandmother sneaking past the checkpoint guards in B.Z.'s Israeli licensed van to re-visit the ancestral home they lost after the ’67 war (the looks of joy on the grandmother's face at getting past the checkpoint is priceless). Faraj's grandmother leaves him the house key, even though the whole area has been razed and the former house discarded with only a few scattered rocks to mark its location.
The filmmakers include a few archive shots from the creation of Israel in 1948, and a few other historical scenes to give some backstory to the situation. Although some knowledge of the conflict will help understand the situation better, most have heard enough through news sources to realize some of the complexities of the region. Also helpful are the maps and graphics that mark the various areas of Jerusalem, a place where some of the children can live within 100 feet of each other but might as well come from different planets—so different are their lives and cultures, passed down from relatives, teachers, and religious leaders.
The checkpoints become a metaphor for much that is wrong. Israelis see them as “necessary” because they don't want to be blown up in their local supermarkets and Palestinians see them as “demeaning.” The twins notice the long lines of Palestinians waiting to get through the checkpoints as B.Z. takes them across the border into Arab territory, and they instinctively sense that this is wrong. However, they have also expressed their own fears about riding on buses, noticing "dangerous looking" riders and praying that they will get through the downtown area without explosives going off—it happens about once a year, but the fear clings forever.
These same checkpoints are cited as culprits that prevent Jews and Arabs from interacting more normally. Other cities have invisible boundaries, but Jerusalem has distinct boundaries complete with blockades and armed security. To cross over takes courage, determination, or naivete and to what purpose? A friendship developed across cultural boundaries is often difficult enough, but in the case of Jews and Arabs in and around Jerusalem, relationships will always be filled with suspicion and tentative trepidation.
The contrast between hope and futility is particularly underscored in a closing shot of a Jerusalem maternity ward, where a burqa clad Arab woman and a yamika wearing man clutch babies right next to each other. Knowing what we do now with suicide bombers blowing up weekly, peace talks postponed, and Bethlehem now off-limits to tourists, what kind of promise does the future hold for these innocent babies? Moments captured in Promises are devastatingly direct to the heart of the matter, demonstrating that there is no easy walk toward peace in a region with such strong conflicting traditions. It's cliché to think that the children hold the promise to a more peaceful future, so this documentary gives a firm reality check. Peace is not at hand, and it's going to take a massive effort to win this battle one heart at a time. This documentary takes a significant step towards greater understanding.
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