Unlike New York, San Francisco or Tel Aviv where footprints of lefty activity are easy to come by, the political realities of Jerusalem keep critical voices more under wraps. In a largely right-wing, religious city where young adults increasingly flee to Tel Aviv, there is a shrinking soap box for politically minded youngsters speaking out against the occupation and social injustice.
In a more atypical format than the average protest, I came across a group of activist musicians at a rock performance a few nights ago who provided through their songs an interesting perspective on apathy, political activism, and gender as it relates to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. Called “Lo Dubim,” meaning “No Bears,” the band is comprised of a drummer, guitarist, bass player, and Greek mandolin player, and their sound resembles a Turkish slap bass version of Rage Against the Machine.
Members of Lo Dubim perform in West Jerusalem
In a song entitled “Cool Guy,” Lo Dubim draws attention to the hypocritical aspects of activism within Israeli society, and the difficulty of espousing one set of views while acting either by choice or force upon another. The lyrics tell the story of one activist with two faces: on the one hand, he is a latte drinking, iBook owning, coffee shop dwelling, army hating, peace loving, sensitive, new-aged civilian-cum-hipster. He rejects all notions of conformity associated with the army, and attends peace rallies and free concerts organized by left-wing parties and organizations. Yet in the very same breath, the protagonist is a member of the army and a default player in the perpetuation of racism and militarism. The protagonist champions the tenets of self-defense, even at the cost of violence and death.
The lyrics illustrate the frustrations and complexities of being an activist in a society of forced conscription. More broadly, the song criticizes the activism of convenience that allows socially minded individuals to celebrate their liberal views at opportune moments, even if their actions have a countering effect on social progress. The singer performed the song in tongue-in-cheek monotone, just sarcastic enough for the audience to consider the hypocrisy the lyrics suggest, while still angry enough to convey his frustrations with the wrong mix of ego and activism.
(Lo Dubim performs in Tel Aviv)
The performance was refreshing because it unmasked the holy image of the activist that is so full of morals and principles that he/she is lacking in self-reflection. On a personal level, I’ve encountered all forms of international activists since my arrival, and have truly been inspired and motivated by them. They encourage me to continue my studies of the conflict and find some place for myself in the large array of regional non-profits doing good work on the ground. But occasionally I find myself questioning the activist that becomes so noble that he/she loses her ability to listen, to connect to people, and to remember that the cause comes in a context. The song is simultaneously a tribute to the importance of activism, while also a reminder to keep our own aspirations for funky, phatty righteousness subordinate to our goals for social change.
Lo Dubim performs in West Jerusalem
