Tag it:

The Shapira neighborhood of south Tel Aviv is located directly adjacent to the "new" Central Bus Station (which can be seen in the background of this picture). The neighborhood, which has always been home to weakened sectors in Israel, largely Mizrahim, has seen a rise in the past decade of migrant workers, mainly those from African, Philippine, Latin American and Chinese communities.

Several days ago, I finished reading a fascinating book entitled Globalizacion, Sociedad y Escuela. Written in 2004 by the Spanish social psychologist Bernal A. Ovejero, the book analyzes the behavioral phenomena of humans in the wake of globalization and the neoliberal world of our times.  

Amongst other things, the author proffers a new division of the world. Ovejero notes that in addition to the third and first worlds, representing the south-north division of the world between the poor and rich countries, a "fourth" world is developing.

This fourth world consists of pockets of urban poverty, marginalized and weakened neighborhoods within big cities. Ovejero describes the difference between a working class neighborhood of the past and this fourth world as substantial. These fourth world neighborhoods are becoming, over time, the human garbage dumps of the social elites. The marginalized, unemployed, drug addicts and prostitutes and refugees without documents reach these neighborhoods. These people join the existing local population, which itself is already weakened. These are areas with no present and no future due to the neoliberal social policies that systematically cut funds for welfare services, health and education, such that the situation is spiraling ever-downward.

Ovejero further notes that the existential situation of survival within the communities of the fourth world, in the wake of social and economic pressure, results in disenfranchisement, a loss of belief in the ability to foster change and loss of a wider perspective in which the neoliberal system and its social elites are understood as those directly responsible for the situation. He notes that the rage and frustration of the already existing residents of these neighborhoods are most often directed toward the closest other: foreigners.

And here comes the Shapira neighborhood incident. On 12 August 2008 a flyer was distributed, inviting the public to participate in an emergency meeting concerning the massive influx of “random and weakened populations” into the neighborhood. The flyer stated how the neighborhood has become the shelter for Tel Aviv and Israel, further noting the social and demographic danger inherent in such a situation. 

On the day of the meeting, people who called themselves social activists arrived wearing the white robes of the Ku Klux Klan, demonstrating outside the hall against the meeting they defined as racist. Approximately 200 people participated in the meeting, some of whom were furious and attacked those persons calling themselves social activists.

It is very easy to make generalizations in such a situation: Residents of the Shapira neighborhood are indeed racist; Shapira residents don’t mean to be racist, they are shouting about something else; Shapira residents are correct; and so on.

There is no doubt that such a situation raises dilemmas, many of which are not easy to solve. However, the commitment of social activists working against racism in all of its forms and expressions is to provide clear answers to such situations, and not to hide behind slogans, as I will explain below.

The Shapira neighborhood is one of the classic neighborhoods of what the Spanish researcher dubs the fourth world. Crowded and neglected, it suffers from terrible air pollution from Tel Aviv’s “new” Central bus station, which itself is one of the worst architectural eyesores in Israel. The neighborhood was always populated by weakened groups, the vast majority Mizrachi. In the past decade, migrant workers moved into the area, mainly those from African, Philippine, Latin American and Chinese communities. In parallel, the families of Palestinian collaborators also arrived in Shapira. Finally, this year many of the newly arrived African refugees were housed or dumped by the Israeli police in Tel Aviv’s central bus station, from where they searched for refuge in the neighborhood. Additionally, as occurs in all urban areas in this time of neoliberalism, the neighborhoods closest to the central bus or railroad stations became centers of prostitution and drugs.

In all respects, the Shapira neighborhood long ago became the garbage dump of fat and self-satisfied Tel Aviv, the backyard of the Tel Aviv yuppie driving his SUV, who never encounters the neighborhood or its residents.

The rage of the residents is understandable. From their perspective, enough is enough, particularly with the recent arrival of African refugees. In response to the question of why their anger is erupting now, it is important to recall that the neighborhood committee conducted a long and unsuccessful campaign against the opening of the new central bus station some ten years ago, an unsuccessful campaign against the Tel Aviv bully mayors and their real estate shark friends. However, this struggle was lost years ago, and for a decade now the voice of the neighborhood has been silenced. At the end of the day, the fourth world syndrome worked against them. Working merely to survive has a tendency to silence people.

There is no doubt that the African refugees are not responsible for the plight of the neighborhood. In this respect, the veteran residents of Shapira are making a serious and double mistake. One is to fall into the trap of what I call “the crowded bus exercise,” and the second is the lack of a demand for an exact address responsible for their distress.

The “crowded bus exercise” is a way to convince people to accept their plight by exploiting an available scapegoat. If the bus is full and people inside of it are crowded and sweaty, what do they wish for? That no more passengers board. And if the driver insists on accepting additional passengers, an outcry against the driver and the new passengers will erupt. And if no new passengers get on, the existing riders will be happy. However, this is foolish happiness as the passengers will continue to be as crowded and as sweaty as before. Essentially, nothing has changed. This is what is currently happening to the residents of the Shapira neighborhood. They are angry that the African refugees are arriving, yet if the refugees go somewhere else, will this change the situation of Shapira? Not at all.

However, what will cement the current situation and render change impossible is the lack of a demand for accountability from those responsible. General statements will only help the municipality, which is not at all interested in changing anything in the Shapira neighborhood, with or without the refugees. Only the raising of a clear plan, which directly attacks the problems of the neighborhood vis-à-vis the Tel Aviv municipal body, can result in a long-term and successful struggle. 

However, before presenting several possible suggestions for a struggle against the city’s institutions, it is important to analyze the behavior of those supposed social activists who appeared outside of the meeting. Firstly, the extent to which these activists are not activists in the neighborhood, or even at all, was demonstrated by their behavior. If I have a disagreement with the residents of a neighborhood in which I am active, I do not remain outside, railing against them. I enter and ask permission to speak. Even if I have very difficult things to say to them, I will do it inside. To act outside means to symbolically tell the people that I am outside, not a part of you; I am outside as I don’t want to be a part of you. On a practical level, this means to lose from the outset by alienating the people with whom you need to work. Acts such as those done by the demonstrators only highlight the arrogance of those who view themselves as morally pure and the alienation of the residents who actually live the reality of the neighborhood, with all of its disadvantages. The damage such people cause in the long-term is tremendous, leading to a loss of faith in more complex and nuanced anti-racist actions. We must disavow ourselves from such activists and activities, as they only serve to impede the creation of change in a positive direction.

Another type of activist, I dub the “apologists.” They are involved in the neighborhood, and because they are so involved, they fail to understand that the racist writing is literally on the wall. I personally have seen graffiti on walls in Shapira, calling for the deportation of migrant workers from the neighborhood. This racist agitation exists, and it exists as one of the known phenomena of marginalization.  The marginalized searches for an available victim who is lower than himself on the social food chain. This is part of behavior in the fourth world. A resident of the fourth world hates the “others” instead of hating the establishment. Fundamentalist figures understand how to exploit this raw material to bolster their contentions and behavior, and they will continue to do so until an anti-racist, neighborhood alternative is created.

In order to cope with the crisis in the Shapira neighborhood, there are at least three things that we must do and learn from the experience of others. Firstly, the justified rage of the residents must be unambiguously directed toward the arrogant and apathetic Tel Aviv municipal establishment. In wake of the arrival of the refugees, the demand of the neighborhood from the municipality must be that the burden be proportionally shared throughout Tel Aviv, especially by the wealthy, northern neighborhoods. Even if we understand that due to the existing social power relations, no such thing will occur, the demand is justified as it demonstrates non-racist thinking which does not ignore the existing problems of the southern neighborhoods. The municipality—and not the Shapira neighborhood—is responsible for all of its residents, and its refugees.

Secondly, we must work together to build unique demands for the neighborhood that are directly tied to the social-welfare situation of Shapira. Problems such as air pollution and the craziness of landlords who divide their apartments into ever smaller spaces in order to house (and make money from) as many migrant workers as possible, and solutions for prostitution and the drug dealers, a lack of cultural spaces for children and the almost complete absence of a formal education system.

Lastly and most importantly for the long-term: to work within the neighborhood and with a commitment to its residents. We must build with them community alternatives that can strengthen the neighborhood on the levels of consciousness and activism. We must build an alternative of solidarity and togetherness instead of hatred and racism. To be part of the neighborhood, in an equal manner. And when discussing equality between people, one of the most crucial elements is to work together and to argue when no agreement is reached. But to argue from the inside.