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Origins

My interest in the politics of mobility began from my interest in Israeli politics, and was heightened during a week in which the Israeli media was focusing on two supposedly unrelated issues: one was a proposal to allow Israeli citizens to vote outside the State of Israel (a privilege that is currently limited to people who are overseas serving their country, such as embassy employees); the other was a proposal to raise the penalty for infiltrators. This is a law originally pertaining to security, criminalizing infiltrators in order to deal with infiltrators from neighboring Arab countries, presumably to launch attacks (possibly also for espionage, but I can’t recall any such historical instance). The renewed interest in this law was since the government intended to raise the penalty as a way to deal with infiltrators from the Egyptian border, allegedly refugees from Darfur (it has been disputed whether these refugees were actually in any life danger, but this question is irrelevant for my discussion). These two debates were going on in Israeli media simultaneously but separately. It was my suggestion that there is a common issue at hand, which opened the discussion of the politics of mobility.

In a wider sense, the latter debate was not, obviously, concerned with the severity of criminalization of infiltrators, but with the openness of Israeli society to foreigners and especially to non-Jews. While the latter was on the degree of openness to foreigners coming, the former opened a debate on the openness to the departure of fellow Israelis. Interestingly, and to a certain degree even surprisingly, the right and left camps of Israeli politics aligned in an opposite correlation on these matters. While one may expect that the side promoting xenophobia would also be reluctant to admit or even encourage immigration outside of Israel, it was actually the case that right-wing politicians (including Lieberman, Arens and Netanyahu) supported the right to vote outside of Israel (and the harsh policy on illegal immigrants), whereas left-wing politicians opposed the voting proposal, and opposed the governments harsh policy towards immigrants.

I do not think the short-term, tactical-political motive was decisive in this opposite correlation, so I shall mention it briefly and do away with it: some have claimed that the majority of "Yordim" (Israeli citizens who have emigrated) leans to the right, and therefore this proposal would benefit the right, and effectively eliminate the dwindling Israeli left. I think that this motivation is not strong enough to explain all the foundational issues concerning this matter, including implications such as the demographics of Israel, the debate over the partition of the land, and so forth. The implications of such a proposal are so far-reaching, that I refuse to examine them through the narrow prism of gerrymandering.

The Three Elements

Having explained the origins of my interest in this topic, I wish to move away from the specific Israeli case, for several reasons: first of all, I do not have all the answers (in fact: any answers), regarding how this is playing out in Israeli politics, and rather than overburden my readers with the petty details of these proposals only to reach no conclusion, I prefer to turn to more general implications. This also points out to my second reason: I fear that my significant project of understanding and formulating a politics of mobility will be shrouded by the details of Israeli politics, and the incessant need to offer various interpretations for these specific details. And my final reason is precisely the significance I attach to developing a general theory of politics of mobility, which can be studied through specific historical, political, cultural, economical or psychological cases, but also needs to be understood in a wider sense that will bear repercussions to a wide range (and not necessarily related) of cases.

I begin by positing that the politics of mobility are set in a triangle of elements: space; separation; and movement. On the most superficial level, it is clear that each of these elements is required for the possibility of mobility to occur: without space, there is no physicality in which to move from one point to another. Separation is the political means (also philosophical, theological, and ideological, but I focus on the political, naturally) that hinders mobility; and movement, of course, is the action that relates the other two elements with each other.

Having labeled this as superficial, however, I have also indicated that I do not wish to remain in the realm of the self-evident for the purpose of treating these elements appropriately. I want to offer some further remarks, quite terse, on each of the elements, and then conclude by explaining the task that lies before us:

Space is not only the arena in which mobility takes place. In order to understand space, we need to observe how space is construed. Indeed, for mobility to occur we need more than one defined place: we need the place left behind, and the place that serves as a target. If the mobility in question is not a one-time movement from A to B, but a constant nomadism, for instance, then all the more so do we need to sustain these two spaces as separate and defined theatres. Thus, we see that mobility necessitates at least two conceptualized spaces, and additionally, that each space will be defined by idiosyncratic characteristics that at the least distinguish it from the other conceptualized space, if not demarcate it as altogether unique. By saying this, we have already began to venture to a certain interrelation of space and separation, which will certainly not be the only one, and probably not even the most important one. At this point, I am only stressing that it is practically impossible to discuss these terms properly without stumbling on their interplay. In any case, in order to have New York, Paris or Jerusalem as emblems of achievement, be it for economical, cultural, or spiritual reasons, we also need the periphery, the quaint or the profane, without which the achievement of mobility could make no sense. By this brief description I have began to point to a conceptualization of space (which is anything but original), and its definition. The construction of space is never merely spatial or geographical; it is always burdened with politics, ideology, culture, theology and so forth, as well as the personal elements, such as memory and nostalgia, trauma and dreams, misconceptions, stereotypes and idealizations in which one informs oneself (and therefore also generates for oneself) a constructed space from which to move, and into whose direction to proceed.

Separation, in its most basic form, stems from the human interest in categories and divisions, as means to formulate an order, however artificial, in a chaotic and fragile existence. The earliest project that comes to mind, probably, is Aristotle’s Categories. I note this because when discussing separation in a political context it is easy to fall on to paradigms which see all separation as negative. Therefore, I want to emphasize from the outset of this discussion that separation is at least an inevitable given in human nature to be reckoned with, and perhaps even essential for human society. Having said that, there is, to be sure, a horrendous amount of cases of unnecessary, even cruel, separations, throughout human history. In order to better examine this dualist nature of separation, I initiated a seminar entitled "Separation as Condition and as Solution," which hopefully will take place next April. Here is how I described separation in my Call for Papers for this seminar:

Separation as a force in society has manifold expressions, on political, legal, personal and aesthetical levels: two siblings draw a line in a shared room, not to be crossed under penalty of screaming; public lavatories separate men and women to ensure privacy; sick or disabled people are separated from society, officially (quarantine) or implicitly (inaccessibility); a couple separates as a step before divorce; two nations fighting over the same piece of land are advised to divide the land and separate.

The ambivalence of separation is enfolded in the distance between two cities: not much more than a decade after the fall of the Berlin Wall, an icon of separation and the grim personal consequences of politics, a division of the city of Jerusalem into two capitals was proposed by President Clinton as a solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

Other forms of separation include separation of men and women in prayer-houses and in schools, Jim Crow laws in the US, and the Apartheid rule in South Africa.

Again, it is no coincidence that in this brief description of a project on separation, issues of movement and of space have been raised. The Berlin Wall, for instance, denotes separation, but also demonstrates the complexities of space: a city which was unequivocally considered to be a cohesive space of a shared community was torn into two separate political entities, and as such was conceived as two cities, East and West, each side developing its needs of a European city (university, opera, museums, etc.), and when eventually reunited, also demonstrated that the cultural gaps produced by political separation remain in these separately conceived spaces long after the political circumstances of separation have collapsed. It is almost needless to mention how the Berlin Wall is symbolic of movement and its limitations, and hence of the politics of mobility.

Movement is such a loaded term that merely looking at the diverse meanings to which it has lent itself allows a glimpse of its significance: it abstractly signifies the most basic human actions, without specifying which organ is moving; it describes a section in music or a technical term in dance; and from the most basic movements of the human body it has transformed to name the ideological actions of human groups and societies. In the context of the politics of mobility, it relates to nomadism as well as immigration. That is to say, it refers to the physical transference from one location to another, and at the same time envelops the psychological, cultural, legal and political difficulties as well opportunities embodied in this act.

In recent years great attention has been given, especially in industrialized and developed countries, to accessibility. In short, accessibility has come to mean the effort to facilitate movement to those whose movement is limited by their own bodies. Prior to this awareness, disabled people were separated by society and from it, where public buildings and the public square were constructed to the convenience of the norm, excluding the exceptional. The shift towards accessibility, therefore, reflects another type of politics of mobility, that ties together separation and space – space not only as conceived, but also as designed. Such a shift is not obvious as one might think: the option that people should not be excluded from the public sphere simply because they are "different," and the idea that the general public needs to make an effort to be more inclusive, is a relatively new idea. By allowing more movement in public spheres, we are diminishing the role of separation, and are reconceptualizing space. Such an option can store further possibilities to other groups of "others", and is therefore of great significance to society as a whole no less than it is to the individuals benefitting from it.

Along with the possibilities created by this movement, there are also obstacles, perhaps even possible dangers, that need to come under consideration: cultural, economical and communicational globalism allows for people to travel from place to place more easily than ever before. This, as reflected in the case of the non-resident Israeli voters, raises questions regarding responsibility, commitment and obligation to a place and to a community. Those opposing the proposal warned, somewhat demagogically, against Israelis voting in favor for a war they know they will not fight, or without risking their loved ones, as they continue to reside in Los Angeles or Toronto. People divide their time between North America and Europe, owning more than one house, sometimes occupying more than one job, or conversely, working in a job that does not demand a specific residence. When doing so, how involved are they in either of their places? How interested are they in their local politics, in the conditions of their neighbors, and to what degree does it affect them? For instance, those Israelis who are still not allowed to vote, but are perhaps permanent residents in Canada or the USA, are leading a life with no political obligation. They might follow politics of either their place of residence or of Israel, but of their own free will they are not taking part in either political lives, and are thus intensely interested only in their own private lives. To be sure, there are Israelis living in Israel who are not involved politically, just as there are Americans and Canadians eligible to vote who do not do so. But the difference in the aspect of our discussion is between people who can change their mind and take a stance whenever they feel the urge, as opposed to people who increasingly limit those options for themselves. Furthermore, I am interested in the systems that facilitate such options for people.

Conclusion

Even in this final point I doubt that I am original: I am quite sure that socialists and social-democrats have pointed out the erosive powers globalism holds for welfare and social awareness. This is merely another point I am raising that needs elaboration and further inspection in a comprehensive theorization of the politics of mobility. I severely and regrettably doubt if I will have the time to devote to this project as it should. What I have done here is to outline the relevant components as I see them. Each of the three elements that I mentioned deserves a proper interdisciplinary research and study. The Call for Papers on Separation demonstrates how each of these topics should be studied not only with direct relation to the politics of mobility. My brief mention of theories of space also points to the same thing: this project requires isolation of each of the three elements and ponder of them in the most abstract, as well as with the detailed specifications of distant examples. By studying each of these topics on their own terms and examining them from every possible angle, I anticipate the implications for the politics of mobility to ultimately make themselves quite manifest.

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