KG Hammar's speech at the solidarity concert “Candles for Gaza” on 18 December at the Annedal Church in Gothenburg.
Tonight we light a candle for Gaza.
“I have lit a candle for you.” We have heard that many times. We may have also done it ourselves from time to time. People in our country have often been to a church to light a candle. The act brings together those who say “I have prayed for you” and those who say “I have thought of you” in a joint act. And it means “you are in my life,” you for whom I have lit a candle are part of my life, in my thoughts, in my heartbeat.
Tonight we light a candle for the people of Gaza, and especially for all of Gaza’s children.
“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.” That is what one of the Christmas Bible readings says from the Gospel of John intro (John 1:5). It is a way of describing our life situation, all human life. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. This does not describe the lives of certain successful people, for whom the sun seems to shine at all times. Rather, it is for all of us. Including those who experience darkness— often and deeply. And we all would if we would simply include more people into our world. Just by lighting candles for others, who thereby become part of our own lives.
Tonight we light candles for Gaza. Why? Because Gaza is the planet’s largest prison. 1.5 million people live in an area which is equal to a quarter of Oland[i]. Trapped, with no means of escape. Without the ability to obtain the needed food, medicine, school supplies, equipment for factories, production, employment, reconstruction after the war. That war which, with such disproportionate destructive force, victimized the people of Gaza almost two years ago.
What was the crime in order to be collectively condemned to such a prison? Yes, the crime is belonging. Belonging to a people who, just as its neighboring people, is historically linked to one and the same country. Where compromise is necessary. The crime is that a few among the population of Gaza—because of the imbalance in power and in access to natural resources between the neighbors—in frustration, are launching a few rockets across the border. The crime is that the population voted for the wrong government in free, democratic elections. For that offense there is a penalty: collective punishment in prison.
Who is responsible? Not Jews. Not Israelis in general. Rather, it is the political leadership in the state of Israel. I say this clearly, because we must be able to criticize the State of Israel's policies without being called anti-Semites. And I say it based on my own personal experience. Therefore we must be careful with our language.[ii] Others are also responsible: the UN Security Council, the United States in particular, the European Union. Perhaps all of us, as we allow Israel to have its own file[iii], its own terms when it comes to human rights and international law, and when this can just go on without anyone really doing anything.
There must be some better way to remember and honor the victims of the Holocaust than to trample and disrespect the very international law and UN Charter that emerged amid the shock following the Second World War, the human shock regarding the Holocaust among other things more than 60 years ago. There must be a better way to honor the victims of the abysmal shame that the Holocaust was. We must allow ourselves to criticize a policy without that black, dark anti-Semitism being trivialized and turned into a political weapon.
The light shines in the darkness for all. No society built on violence has ever survived in history. When we remember that, it becomes a light in the darkness. You have to persevere, be able to wait. We are also living in a time when more and more people realize that violence does not work. There are no military solutions, says one after the other of those who have at their disposal the most powerful armed forces and destructive resources in world history. There are no military solutions!
In addition, we have a common platform for a common future, a common life together, all people, in international law and in our thoughts about human rights. But it will not come cheaply, it is not easy. A human right comes with a human obligation, a human responsibility. As Gandhi said: “You must be the change you want to see in the world.”
Furthermore, perhaps now more than ever, we are seeing cross-border solidarity. People of different nationalities, of different religions, with different political orientations can be reconciled based on international law, in the service of justice and righteousness. The light shines in the darkness.
And we know from human experience that reconciliation is possible. The experience from South Africa was about a situation that was no less severe than the one we are experiencing in the Middle East. But it was still possible to seek the path of reconciliation rather than that of collective punishment and revenge. But it is in our eyes. It depends on how we look at each other. Mandela said: “My freedom depends on your freedom. As long as you are not free, I cannot be free.”[iv] And Desmond Tutu said: “My humanity is bound up in yours, for we can only be human together.”[v]
So that light shines in the darkness.
And tonight, we remember in particular a great light in the darkness: Ship to Gaza. Just over six months ago, a fleet sailed that was based on the very foundation of light that we can all experience: based on transnational solidarity, international law and human rights, and using non-violence as its means. That [non-violence] seemed to be what the opposition feared more than anything. Much energy was devoted to demonstrating that a little bit of violence was used—some resistance—in order to legitimize their own use of violence. So it can be concluded that the party that has the most violent force by far is mostly afraid that someone might stand up to it using non-violent resistance. For it delegitimizes the use violence. It is hopeful to be living in a time when we get to experience that.
So we light a candle for Gaza. To let Gaza's population know that they are not alone, they are not isolated, they are not forgotten.
We light a candle for Gaza to remind ourselves not only of the necessity of non-violence, but also of its possibilities and its power.
We light a candle for Gaza to hopefully deepen our conviction that it’s not about us vs. them. We must have the courage to see each other as potential brothers and sisters even if we are currently in a deep disagreement. Daring to see that in every human being there is an ally whose fear might have scared them into an erroneous way of thinking about what might improve safety and security. But who might be liberated by a light in the darkness.
We humans are strange. The light of hope is close to us all, no matter how dark it is. We all hope to be able to live in disagreement in creative conflict, but to do so without resorting to violence as our method for resolving conflict. We dare to hope that the light will become clear to us all, and especially for the people of Gaza.
We light a candle for Gaza. The light shines in the darkness. And the darkness has not overcome it.
