Palestinians though the eyes of a Zionist

Between the ages of 12 and 14 I was a Zionist and a Communist, a dedicated member of HaShomer Hatzair. I knew how the world worked, I had answers to the problems confronting the world. I had a clear vision of right and wrong. The wrong was the murder of Jews. The right was resistance, fighting back like Bar Kochba. I knew nothing about Bar Kochba's messianic pretensions, about Betar and the tragedy he brought down on the remnant of Jews in the land of Palestina. All that I knew was that he wouldn't put up with Roman persecution and fought back. The heroes were the resistance fighters of the Warsaw Ghetto. I knew of no other instances of resistance. My personal hero was the brother of Julika, who when attacked at the university by his patriotic noble fellow students, lashed out with his knuckleduster, floored one and killed him. He was on the next train, out of the country, but certainly taught that student to show respect to Jews. The answer to the Jewish question was socialism. Fascism was the by-product of Capitalism. Socialism, as practised in the socialist kibbutzim was the way to stop the resurgence of Fascism. And unlike some other Zionists, we recognized that there was an Arab population in the land of Israel, but knew that the Arab poor, the workers, the fellahin, would rise up against their feudal landlords, their exploiters, and join the Jews in their struggle for a just, fair world. The Grand Mufti of Jerusalem, the leader of the Arabs fighting Jewish settlement, showed his true colours by aligning himself with Hitler. He was the creature of the Arab feudal class, the absentee landlords, the oppressors of the poor Arab peasants. I knew that Jews and the exploited poor Arabs had a common cause. And indeed, the Arab workers working for Jews, the Arab villagers living in villages near Jewish settlements flourished as a result of the skills, the single-minded work ethic and enterprise the Jews brought with them. The Jews brought them prosperity. It was the Arab ruling class and its obscurantist Islamic priests that brought disaster on them. Perhaps there is some truth in this reading of history by a fourteen year old teenager. History is not simple and our understanding of it depends on the narrative framework that colours our views.