Jerusalem Day and Remembrance Day for Ethiopian Jews: a failure of inclusion of Ethiopian-Israelis?

Written by:  Leoni Groot

Before 1967 Jerusalem was a divided city: Jordanian forces controlled the eastern part and the Old City, Israeli forces the western part. Like it is today, the Old City was important back then for strategic and religious reasons, yet Jewish citizens of Israel were prohibited from entering this area. During the Six Day war, Israeli forces captured the Old City, which resulted in a reunification of Jerusalem as part of the state of Israel.

Nowadays, citizens of Jerusalem and the rest of the country commemorate the reunification of the city every year on Jerusalem Day. During this day, memorials are held for those who died in the Six Day War. Every year, thousands of people come to the Old City to celebrate this important national day.

This year, Jerusalem Day was held on May 8^th (the date changes every year, due to the Jewish Calendar) and I had the opportunity to experience this day--a day that has so much meaning to many Jews and that also meant a lot to the international politics of the Middle East.

However, this day is not only an opportunity to commemorate the city’s history during this war, but also an opportunity to remember those Ethiopians who died during the tough journey all the way through Sudan. The ceremony is held on Mount Herzl every year, because that is where the monument has been placed to remember their past.

Interestingly though, the ceremony was quite isolated in the sense of the group of people who attended it--I was one of the few white people there. How come? Is it a poorly-chosen day to hold the ceremony on, since other citizens are celebrating Jerusalem Day? Is it a sign of a divided society? Or is it a proof that Ethiopian-Israelis are still not fully part of the nation but a separated Jewish community?

With my lack of knowledge I cannot fully answer this question now. But one thing was clear to me: as a white girl I was the “other”. As at many public events in Israel, one cannot escape the security checks. Arriving there, I was asked by the security why I came to this ceremony. Apparently, telling them that I volunteer for the Ethiopian National Project was not enough; they asked me if I could prove this, but I couldn’t. “Do you know people who are already inside?” I replied that the other volunteers might already be there, and that I would be meet Grace, the director, inside. This answer still didn’t convince them; I had to show my passport and open my back for checking. While the girl from security was checking my passport I heard a familiar voice: “Hi Leoni! How are you?!” I looked up and saw that this familiar voice was Asher’s, the youth coordinator of the Youth Outreach Center in Petah Tikva who made the journey from Ethiopia to Israel himself. The security woman saw a black man with a big smile coming to me. She closed my passport, gave it back to me and exchanged few words with him. “It’s ok,” she said to me, “you can go in.” She let me through and I went to the seats where Asher told me the other kids of the youth center would be as well. Soon the ceremony started…

What is interesting about the situation described above is that the ceremony is created as a separated one by those who have are in charge of organizing it. Of course, one cannot deny that security in general already creates inclusion and exclusion: who is allowed to join the ceremony and who’s not? But the fact that it was not a problem for me once they saw that I knew this Ethiopian-Israeli man very well showed that this event was solely for Ethiopian-Israelis or for those who are directly related to this community. Any person that shows to be interested in the Jewish Ethiopian history and shows respect for their past is not necessarily immediately admitted. In this way, without letting Ethiopians share their past with other Jews, the Ethiopian-Israeli history is, in my view, kept as a unique story and a mechanism of exclusion: the Ethiopians remain excluded from the rest of the Jewish community (and therefore the rest of the Jewish community is also excluded from the Ethiopian-Israeli one). I think this is not only a disadvantage for Ethiopian-Israelis that are fighting to fully integrate into the society, but also a disadvantage for an already separated Israeli society.

In my opinion, organizations like ENP can do a lot to empower Ethiopian-Israelis, but as long as distinction exists, they will always be a ‘special group’ within the Jewish community, which will disadvantage them in all aspects of life. This is why I think that Remembrance Day for Ethiopians should be held on another day (despite the beautiful symbolic connection with Jerusalem Day) in order for it to become a day that also the rest of Israel can remember those Ethiopians who didn’t make it to Israel and to provide the rest of the society with the opportunity to gain a better understanding of their fellow citizens.

This might be step closer to a successful multicultural society.