Beyond East and West: A Complex Legacy of Exchange and Erasure.
The terms “East” and “West” have long served as convenient categories to describe an imagined divide—between colonial powers and the postcolonial world, the so-called “civilized” and the “other,” the “advanced” and the “backward.” Yet, as Edward Said argued in Orientalism, these constructs are neither natural nor fixed. Instead, they are flexible tools of domination, shaped by historical power dynamics to justify control rather than to reflect any inherent cultural divide. While these binaries dominate political and cultural discourse, the reality of history tells a different story—one of interdependence and exchange, where influence and innovation flow across borders, unmasking the artificiality of these categories.
Throughout history, the so-called “East” has not only engaged with but also preserved, expanded, and revitalized the intellectual legacies of the “West.” After the destruction of the Library of Alexandria left Greek philosophy and science vulnerable to extinction, scholars of the Islamic Golden Age rose to preserve and expand this knowledge. In the Abbasid Empire’s House of Wisdom, figures like Al-Kindi, Al-Farabi, Avicenna, and Averroes not only translated Greek texts but also deeply engaged with them, merging Greek ideas with Islamic philosophy and contributing foundational concepts to modern science and thought. Historian George Saliba underscores the transformative nature of these contributions, which laid the groundwork for the European Renaissance—a period the West would later celebrate as its own intellectual rebirth.
Yet, this legacy of mutual influence is often erased. Western societies have long positioned themselves as saviors, claiming to “liberate” oppressed peoples and “uplift” struggling nations through interventions. From the colonial partitions of the Middle East to the imposition of neoliberal economic policies, these interventions have historically left the so-called “East” dispossessed, displaced, and ensnared in cycles of despair. As Edward Said noted, the “savior” framework erases the mutual exchanges that have shaped civilizations, recasting the West as the sole architect of progress while obscuring the essential contributions of those it subjugates.
This narrative of domination persists in the West’s approach to global politics, limiting the potential for a truly just and humane political order. Anthropologists David Graeber and David Wengrow, in The Dawn of Everything, argue that societies progress not through hierarchical domination but through reciprocal exchanges that challenge simplistic binaries like “civilized” and “uncivilized.” Yet much of today’s global politics remains entrenched in what can only be described as “primordial politics,” where power dynamics overshadow real human concerns. The result is a system that reduces people’s lives to abstractions in a geopolitical game, ignoring the fundamental needs of bread, freedom, and social justice.
This critique resonates deeply with my own experiences as one of the millions who filled Tahrir Square during the Arab Spring. In 2011, as a secular, feminist participant in this historic uprising, I stood alongside others asking the same question that has haunted Arab societies for generations: How did this happen to us, and how can we stop it? For decades, Arab people have grappled with the trauma of colonization, dispossession, humiliation, and displacement, searching for ways to reclaim dignity and self-determination. Two distinct forms of resistance emerged in response: a secular, socialist Arab nationalist movement and an Islamist one.
The secular Arab nationalist resistance, with its socialist ideals, envisioned a future of self-determination, regional unity, and social equity. It posed an existential threat to Western interests, particularly to the uninterrupted flow of resources and the security of the State of Israel, which became central to Western imperial strategy in the region. To neutralize this threat, Western powers systematically dismantled secular Arab movements, co-opting regimes, and eliminating leaders who dared to imagine a democratic, socialist alternative for the Arab world.
As these movements were dismantled and Arab regimes became corrupted collaborators with Western powers, millions of people were left without viable political alternatives. In this void, Islamist fundamentalist Puritanism reemerged, promising to purify Islam by returning it to its supposed original “roots.” For many, it was a way to grapple with the psychological trauma of colonization, offering a framework for understanding their suffering: perhaps if Muslims could become “better,” more devout, God would forgive them, and the relentless destruction wrought by the West would end. This shift wasn’t purely political; it was deeply psychological. Colonization’s violence isn’t confined to the material—it invades the psyche, leaving people grasping for meaning and solace in the face of unrelenting subjugation.
The trauma of colonization illustrates the unbearable cost of national liberation movements. They are, as some have likened, akin to undergoing chemotherapy for cancer—violent, painful, and often destructive, but necessary for survival. The fight for liberation forces societies to endure unimaginable suffering in the hope of rebuilding something stronger in its wake. For Arab societies, both secular socialism and Islamist Puritanism represented attempts to answer the same question: How can we reclaim our dignity, and how can we stop this from happening again?
Ironically, the same disillusionment that birthed these movements is now evident in the United States. The rise of Christian nationalism and messianic Christianity reflects the failures of neoliberal secularism to address basic human needs. Just as neoliberal policies in the Arab world failed to deliver bread, freedom, and justice, neoliberalism in the U.S. has left millions disillusioned and alienated. This has created fertile ground for reactionary movements that offer simplistic, moralistic explanations for systemic inequality. Like Islamist ideologies, these movements promise moral redemption and a return to an imagined order, even as they perpetuate exclusion and division.
Walking through Washington, D.C., as the pro-Palestinian movement fills the streets, I am struck by an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. The dynamics I see here are eerily like those that shaped the Arab Spring: a system of entrenched power offering only varying shades of domination. Why can’t we imagine a politics that prioritizes simple human needs like bread, freedom, and social justice? Why are these demands, whether in Cairo, Gaza, or Washington, considered radical?
The Pro-Palestinian Movement in Washington, D.C.: An intersectional Coalition for Justice.
The pro-Palestinian movement in Washington, D.C., has emerged as a transformative and intersectional coalition, uniting activists from diverse social, political, and cultural backgrounds. Led by Arab Americans, particularly Palestinians, it includes Jewish allies, Black power movements, Latin American advocates, Indigenous leaders, queer groups, labor organizers, climate justice activists, anti-militarism groups, Palestinian youth movements, feminist organizations, housing rights advocates, scholars and students. Together, they challenge national and transnational systems of domination while building solidarity across struggles for justice, demonstrating the interconnectedness of global and local oppression.
For Black power movements, such as Harriet’s Wildest Dreams, the parallels between the apartheid system governing the lives of Palestinians and systemic racism in the United States are undeniable. Groups within this tradition draw on the legacy of the civil rights and Black liberation struggles to highlight how both Palestinians and Black Americans face state violence, economic disenfranchisement, and structural oppression. The collaboration between U.S. police forces and Israeli security services underscores these connections. For example, the Minneapolis Police Department, involved in the killing of George Floyd, had officers who participated in training programs with the Israeli Defense Forces (IDF). These programs, which focus on military-style crowd control and surveillance, demonstrate how tactics used in the occupation of Palestinians are exported and applied in the policing of marginalized communities in the U.S., further intertwining the struggles of Black Americans and Palestinians. We see this shared oppression translated into shared solidarity where representatives of the Palestinian Youth Movement addressed the crowd mourning the most recent black women killed by the police in Washington DC in July 2024, Sonya Massey.
Similarly, Latin American organizers see their histories reflected in the Palestinian experience. For decades, Latin American countries have endured ethnic cleansing, forced displacement, and the extraction of resources for the benefit of Western powers, echoing the ongoing dispossession of Palestinians. The violent uprooting of Indigenous communities in Latin America, coupled with exploitative economic systems imposed by colonial and neocolonial forces, mirrors the systemic erasure and displacement faced by Palestinians. These shared experiences of dispossession and resistance foster deep solidarity, as both Latin American and Palestinian movements fight to reclaim their lands, autonomy, and dignity from systems of global exploitation.
Descendants of immigrants from regions who have suffered under the hammer of U.S. and European imperialism have also expressed strong solidarity with Palestinians. Filipino Americans, whose ancestors experienced American colonization and military aggression, draw parallels between their history and the current occupation of Palestinian territories. Similarly, Korean Americans connect their own history of foreign intervention and division during and after the Korean War to the struggles of Palestinians for autonomy and sovereignty. Pakistani Americans, too, see the echoes of imperial exploitation in South Asia mirrored in the plight of Palestinians. Irish Americans, whose ancestors endured British colonial rule, bring the historical memory of their resistance to the movement, identifying with the Palestinian fight against displacement and systemic oppression. This collective solidarity underscores how communities shaped by the legacies of imperialism and militarism find common cause in the struggle for justice in Palestine.
Indigenous leaders emphasize their shared struggle against settler colonialism. Solidarity between Indigenous Americans and Palestinians stretches back decades, with groups like the American Indian Movement (AIM) supporting Palestinian liberation as early as the 1970s. Today, this alliance remains strong, rooted in the shared experiences of forced displacement, genocide, and resistance to ongoing colonial domination. This collaboration challenges the notion that colonialism is a historical relic, instead framing it as a continuing system that must be actively resisted.
Jewish allies are also integral to the coalition. Organizations like Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP) work tirelessly to dismantle the conflation of Jewish identity with unconditional support for Israeli policies. Under the campaign slogan “Not in Our Name,” JVP emphasizes that opposing the occupation aligns with Jewish ethical teachings on justice and human dignity. Feminist organizations like Code Pink further support the movement by opposing militarization in the Middle East and advocating for grassroots activism to promote peace.
Queer activists, despite facing marginalization in both Middle Eastern and Western societies, bring vital energy to the pro-Palestinian movement. Many queer activists—both Arab and non-Arab—draw connections between the rhetoric used to justify Palestinian subjugation and narratives of religious supremacy that have historically targeted LGBTQ+ communities. The ideology of being a “chosen people,” often invoked to legitimize the displacement of Palestinians, parallels the concept of the “normal” human being—both narratives construct hierarchies that define who is worthy of rights, power, and humanity. These frameworks are inherently heteronormative, framing legitimacy through patriarchal, cisgendered, and heterosexual norms, while erasing those who do not conform.
This dynamic is further complicated by pinkwashing, where Israel markets its record on LGBTQ+ rights to obscure its occupation of Palestinian territories. By narrowing queer liberation to limited definitions of gender and sexual nonconformity, pinkwashing co-opts the queer movement while silencing its broader commitment to challenging power hierarchies. At its core, queer theory rejects such domination, advocating for self-determination and liberation in the face of systemic oppression—values that place queer activists at the heart of struggles for justice everywhere. Queer activists in the pro-Palestinian movement highlight these intersections, rejecting frameworks that trade one form of oppression for another. Their solidarity strengthens the coalition’s intersectional vision, insisting that true liberation must dismantle all systems of domination, whether rooted in religious, racial, or gender hierarchies, to build a future grounded in collective freedom and justice.
At the heart of the movement are Palestinian youth activists who organize marches, teach-ins, and social media campaigns to raise awareness about ongoing injustices in Palestine and American complicity in them. These young activists, often born in the U.S. but deeply connected to their Palestinian heritage, work alongside other young Americans, including those struggling with mounting student debt and limited job opportunities amid the current white-collar recession. This convergence of issues highlights how the pro-Palestinian cause resonates far beyond the Middle East, intersecting with economic and social struggles within the United States.
Labor unions and working-class movements have also become key allies in the fight for Palestinian rights. Members of housing rights organizations and campaigns like the Poor People’s Campaign see direct links between billions of U.S. tax dollars funding militarized occupation abroad and the unmet needs of workers at home. Many find it indefensible that their taxes fund apartheid policies overseas while they struggle to afford necessities. This contradiction galvanized labor activists, who demand that resources be redirected to building equitable societies both locally and globally.
Climate activists and anti-militarism groups further expand the coalition, framing Palestinian liberation as part of a broader fight against the corporate and military exploitation of people and resources. Climate justice advocates highlight the environmental devastation caused by military occupations, particularly in Gaza, where relentless bombings and sieges have inflicted catastrophic damage on ecosystems and infrastructure. A report by The Guardian in January 2024 revealed that the genocidal campaign on Gaza produced an estimated 1.2 million tons of carbon emissions in just a few months. These emissions resulted from the widespread destruction of buildings, infrastructure, and power plants, along with fires and toxic debris left in the aftermath.
The environmental toll, however, does not end with the bombing. A Guardian article in June 2024 detailed the staggering climate cost of rebuilding Gaza after the devastation. The reconstruction process, which involves clearing millions of tons of rubble and importing building materials like concrete and steel, is expected to generate an additional 2.5 million tons of carbon emissions over the next five years. Activists point out that these emissions, driven by war and its aftermath, deepen global climate inequalities, as marginalized communities like those in Gaza bear the brunt of both environmental destruction and rebuilding efforts. Beyond emissions, the occupation and bombing have poisoned Gaza’s already-scarce water supply, destroyed agricultural land, and left toxic materials scattered across the region, exacerbating a humanitarian and ecological crisis.
At the same time, anti-militarism groups emphasize how Palestine represents one of many regions destabilized by the entanglement of corporate profits, military interests, and geopolitical power. They argue that these cycles of violence are not only sustained by occupation but also driven by industries that profit from weapons sales, surveillance technologies, and environmental destruction. Both movements see Palestine as a powerful symbol in the global fight against exploitation, linking struggles for justice, climate action, and peace.
Art and culture are vital to sustaining the pro-Palestinian alliance in D.C., transforming activism into a powerful expression of resilience, solidarity, and hope. Activists have turned to creative projects, music, and cultural traditions to foster a sense of community while advocating for justice. From the hundreds of marches that fill Washington, D.C.’s streets to nights of sign-making for protests, to creative installations and these events create spaces where people unite under a shared desire to stop the cycle of violence and a shared vision of a cooperative, compassionate and human-oriented future.
Another striking example is the student encampment at George Washington University, which became an almost-utopian experiment in community-driven solidarity. This encampment featured a free clinic, a free library, and art supplies open to all, alongside daily cultural events including musical performances, poetry readings, and interfaith services encompassing Islamic, Christian, and Jewish traditions. The space modeled a world free of hierarchies and domination, choosing instead to center equality, compassion, and mutual respect.
Beyond the encampment, the wider alliance in D.C. hosted powerful acts of cultural solidarity, such as Shabbat dinners in front of the White House, made up of Palestinian food. These dinners symbolized the blending of traditions in defiance of the East-West binary, offering a vision of mutual respect and interconnectedness that rejects domination. Moments of collective creativity like these have been transformative throughout the alliance. The mock-up Palestinian embassy erected during Embassy Day in D.C. asserted Palestinian self-determination in a city representing global power, while the block party outside the South African Embassy, marking their genocide case against Israel at the International Court of Justice, celebrated global solidarity by drawing on shared histories of anti-apartheid resistance.
Activist planned Block Party in front of the South African Embassy, across the street from the Bolivian Embassy, the night before they presented their case against Israel at the ICJ, January 2024, Washington DC.
Activists turned public spaces into stages for resistance, from the kibbutz-style camp in front of the Israeli embassy to encampments near Secretary Blinken’s house, using these spaces to challenge authority and reimagine what power structures could become. These acts of artivism are paired with community-driven initiatives like potlucks, mental health services from organizations like Palm Healing, and mutual aid programs, which reflect the alliance’s holistic commitment to care and resilience.
The pro-Palestinian alliance in D.C. doesn’t just confront power—it actively models what a better world could look like. The artistic expressions, interfaith services, cultural exchanges, and cooperative spirit fostered by its activists challenge the hierarchies of a system built on domination, flipping the binary of East and West into a community-driven vision of mutual respect. These spaces, rich with creativity and care, embody the alliance’s end game: a world where relationships are defined not by power but by shared humanity, equality, and compassion.
The pro-Palestinian coalition in Washington, D.C., stands as a testament to the power of intersectional solidarity in addressing systemic injustice. By uniting diverse voices across racial, cultural, and socioeconomic divides, it exposes the interconnected nature of global and local struggles against colonialism, militarization, and inequality. Despite being overwhelmed by the immense power residing in Washington, the heart of U.S. imperial and diplomatic dominance, the movement continues to stand resilient. Its ability to learn, adapt, and self-reflect ensures its survival and growth, setting it apart from the unreflective systems of power it challenges. This capacity for introspection and perseverance not only sustains the movement but also positions it as a symbol of hope and transformation. As it evolves, the movement’s resonance extends far beyond the U.S., connecting to a global shift toward rejecting hegemonic power structures and reimagining the possibilities of international cooperation.
This moment offers the West an opportunity to move beyond the primordiality of power and toward a politics of dignity and equality—one that prioritizes human needs over geopolitical games. Like the intellectual exchanges that once fueled Western progress, the pro-Palestinian movement asks the West to reimagine itself, not as a savior but as a partner in a shared human future.
A New Horizon: Justice, Solidarity, and the Multipolar Future
The pro-Palestinian coalition in Washington, D.C., reflects a growing global reckoning with systems of domination and inequality. By uniting a diverse coalition of activists, it challenges the U.S. to reconcile its democratic ideals with its imperial practices. This movement does more than demand justice for Palestine; it calls for a broader transformation of a world order built on exploitation and coercion, offering a vision of solidarity and equity instead of domination.
As the world shifts toward multipolarity, countries increasingly reject U.S.-centric hegemony. The rise of BRICS and other regional collaborations highlights a desire for partnerships rooted in mutual respect rather than subordination. However, this transition will not be seamless. The U.S. still dominates the global financial system and military apparatus, making the move away from unipolarity fraught with resistance. Rather than fighting multipolarity to restore fading dominance, the U.S. should focus on mending internal grievances—such as housing insecurity, healthcare access, and student debt—while taking the lead in shaping a cooperative global future. By investing its power in creating a world designed for human well-being, the U.S. could transform its role from hegemon to partner.
The pro-Palestinian movement exemplifies this call for reflection and reinvention. It connects Palestine’s struggle with global fights against colonialism, racial injustice, and economic exploitation, demanding a decolonial vision where all people are entitled to dignity and self-determination. This movement reminds us that real justice is intersectional and inclusive, rejecting hierarchies that value some lives over others.
History shows that progress depends on the courage to self-reflect. The West’s most transformative eras, like the Renaissance and Enlightenment, emerged through engagement with ideas preserved and expanded by scholars from the Islamic world. Today, the pro-Palestinian movement offers a similar opportunity for introspection. By confronting its colonial legacies and rethinking its foreign policies, the U.S. can embrace its place in an increasingly multipolar world—not as a dominator but as a collaborator.
This is not just about geopolitics; it is about reimagining what is possible. A world grounded in empathy, equity, and cooperation is within reach. The pro-Palestinian movement, through its resilience and vision, shows the way forward—a path where progress is defined not by power, but by humanity.
References
Said, Edward. Orientalism. New York: Pantheon Books, 1978.
Saliba, George. Islamic Science and the Making of the European Renaissance. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2007.
Penketh, Anne. “Emissions Soar as Gaza War Adds to Climate Damage.” The Guardian, January 9, 2024. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2024/jan/09/emissions-gaza-israel-hamas-war-climate-change.
Graeber, David, and David Wengrow. The Dawn of Everything: A New History of Humanity. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2021.
Gutas, Dimitri. Greek Thought, Arabic Culture: The Graeco-Arabic Translation Movement in Baghdad and Early Abbasid Society (2nd–4th/8th–10th Centuries). London: Routledge, 2001.
Casagranda, Roy. “How Islam Saved the West.” Lecture. Accessed December 20, 2024. https://youtu.be/C8M4i9fvq1M?si=P9vwcnzYvqNk75X4.