And so, on this day, you
pick up a stone -- a stone -- and throw it, in a weak and futile
gesture, at these impregnable figures.
And for throwing this stone -- a stone, a small, hand-sized fragment of stone -- this is what happens to you.
From Israel's ynetnews:
"Karem, a 13-year-old boy from Hebron,
was arrested in late September on suspicion of hurling stones at Israel
Defense Forces soldiers. After spending six days in the Ofer Prison, he
was placed under house arrest for five months in his uncle's home and
can't even go to school.
"The boy's relatives say he is in a serious
emotional state and is finding it difficult to recover from his days in
prison. All he told his family members was that he was handcuffed and
chained, and was sometimes left alone in a room or in solitary ....
"The boy himself refuses to talk. Asked what he
went through during the interrogation and in jail, he responds, "I don't
know, I don't know."
"Karem's grandmother says his mental state has
influenced his health. "You can tell that he is afraid and frightened
from his days in jail. He has fungus on his body and his skin has peeled
from all the pressure, fear, and nerves. He barely talks. Today we
looked for him and found him hiding in the chicken coop because he
didn't want to talk to anyone."
It's just a small story; what does it matter? It's just a tiny incident,
far from the worst, in a vast, world-roiling conflict; what does it
matter? It's just the scarcely noticed ruination of one obscure child's
life; what does it matter?
Only losers and lamesters, only those on the
margins, only those who aren't serious, who aren't savvy -- only those
who are struggling to keep hold of their humanity in the face of
implacable systems of power, systems which seek at every turn to degrade
and destroy
what Arthur Silber calls "
the sacred value of a single human life"
-- would care about such discarded wretches.
But it doesn't matter at
all to anyone who "matters" in the small, gilded circles of domination
and sycophancy that oversway our lives and our discourse. And so these
little stories will keep on playing out, everywhere, all the time, in
the monstrous waste we make of our common humanity -- and its brief,
beautiful, absolutely unique individual expressions.