Rotem here. I refused to serve in the […] occupation army as a teenager, and today I work as the media coordinator for Refuser Solidarity Network. I have come a long way from my childhood to my work today, a journey that demanded endless unlearning.
Looking back, I know I was lucky in a lot of ways. I grew up in an alternative environment, went to an arts high school, and was raised in a home that encouraged empathy, curiosity, and independent thinking. In 10th grade, we watched 5 Broken Cameras and Machsom, a film about Israeli checkpoints in the West Bank. I attended a Nakba 101 course. I read constantly. I was encouraged to ask questions instead of suppressing them.
Today, I work at RSN, where I run our media accounts to bring the latest news that goes unreported, document demonstrations and interview movement organizers, and am working on “Ani Siravti”, which means “I refused” in Hebrew, a media project bring refusers’ stories to the wider Israeli public. I’m excited to share more about that in the coming weeks and months.
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Refuser Solidarity Network brings you the latest updates from the ground: photos from the ground, refusers’ stories, the latest demonstrations. We work with and fund a wide-range of resistance groups opposing Israeli wars and occupation. Our rôle is to resist from within, and we rely on global support to carry out this work. We value whatever you can spare, but a monthly subscription makes the most impact. Make a donation today at this link.
I was lucky in another sense too. When I refused military service, I was able to avoid serious punishment by obtaining an exemption through a psychologist’s recommendation. For me personally, refusing was relatively easy — many others who refuse pay a much heavier price.
And still, even with all those privileges, refusing in Israeli society means going against the current.
I still remember my official draft day very clearly. I had just finished the process of getting my exemption and was leaving the military base when suddenly a huge wave of 18-year-olds walked through the gates together for their first day of service. It really felt like swimming against the current. Everyone moving one direction, and me literally walking through this massive wave to leave the base.
Film played a huge rôle in my political awakening. Today I study film because of those early experiences, and it’s also why I work in media at RSN. I believe deeply in the power of images and storytelling. Film can expose things people are taught not to see. It can crack open the official narrative, while mediating experience in innovative ways to speak truth to power.
Theory mattered, but it was only a starting point. The real shift happened when I started meeting Palestinians directly. Like most Jewish Israelis, even those of us from more liberal backgrounds, I grew up largely segregated from Palestinian life. Once I started joining dialogue groups, volunteering in the West Bank, and participating in joint organizing spaces, the occupation became personal in a completely different way.
I began understanding what it meant that my Palestinian friends from East Jerusalem had to think about whether it would be safe to speak Arabic in public, how they dressed, they considered how they dressed and calculated how they are perceived so as to not be victims of violence. It was shocking for me to realize that they could face serious consequences just for existing in the wrong place at the wrong time.
It was these personal experiences, amongst others that I share this place with, that I realized that I didn’t actually care very much about land in the abstract way nationalism teaches you to. What I cared about were people. I cared that people deserve dignity, autonomy, safety, and the ability to live without fear.
That’s still what drives me now. In my media work, in my artistic work, and in my everyday life.
To be honest, this can be very lonely work. Being a dissident in Israel often means isolation from every direction: from family, peers, difficulties finding work because of one’s activism and the list goes on. I’m still marked by my national identity, even though I’m trying to live beyond the logic of Jewish supremacy. And inside Israeli society itself, resistance can make you an outsider too.
But there isn’t really another option for me – we must struggle for dignity, autonomy, safety and freedom. We must keep moving forward.
URGENT: Support the resistance within Israel/Palestine!
Refuser Solidarity Network brings you the latest updates from the ground: photos from the ground, refusers’ stories, the latest demonstrations. We work with and fund a wide-range of resistance groups opposing Israeli wars and occupation. Our rôle is to resist from within, and we rely on global support to carry out this work. We value whatever you can spare, but a monthly subscription makes the most impact. Make a donation today at this link.
In solidarity,
Rotem Sudman
Media Coordinator
Refuser Soldiarity Network
(Taken from an email sent to me by the Refuser Solidarity Network. Emphasis original.)
Fight back.
