logo

57 pages 1 hour read

Sandy Tolan

The Lemon Tree: An Arab, a Jew, and the Heart of the Middle East

Nonfiction | Biography | Adult | Published in 2006

A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.

Themes

The Parallels Between the Jewish and Palestinian Experiences

In juxtaposing the experiences of Dalia, Bashir, and their families, The Lemon Tree draws attention to the similarities in their pasts and in the pasts of the Jewish and Palestinian people broadly. For Dalia in particular, the fact that both people have experienced exile serves as a baseline for empathy, dialogue, and perhaps eventually reconciliation. However, the book also complicates this idea by showing how the arrival of European Jews in Israel—an event many experienced as a homecoming—was causally intertwined with the dispossession of Palestinians.

The exile Dalia’s family and others like them experienced was in some sense twofold. As part of the Jewish diaspora, they had been separated from their ancestral homeland for centuries, during which time they were often subject to persecution. This culminated in the Holocaust when the Eshkenazis experienced a more immediate displacement from their homes and found their very survival in jeopardy. Likewise, Bashir’s family was uprooted from their house in al-Ramla and entered an extended period of exile in the West Bank and Gaza. Bashir himself was later exiled from the West Bank to Lebanon and then Tunis.

Israelis and Palestinians, then, have both had the experience of being adrift and subject to persecution. In Europe, Dalia’s family did not know whether they would be sent to concentration camps; years later, Bashir was subjected to imprisonment several times, resulting in a similar sense of uncertainty regarding the future. Moreover, Tolan suggests that the two peoples have responded in similar ways. Bashir’s undying hope of returning to his family’s home in al-Ramla recalls Dalia’s father’s Zionism—a movement that developed in the late 1800s to help Jewish Europeans return to their ancestral homeland.

The tragic irony, The Lemon Tree implies, is that parallels that ought to foster understanding have instead deepened divisions due to the historical circumstances surrounding the creation of Israel. Once again, Bashir and Dalia serve as proxies for their broader communities, with Dalia and her family beginning their lives in Israel in the very house from which (unbeknownst to the Eshkenazis) the Khairis were forcibly expelled. Nevertheless, the work holds out hope that the commonalities between the two groups’ experiences may ultimately prevail. For instance, just as Orthodox bishops intervened to save Bulgarian Jews from deportation to concentration camps during WWII, Dalia and other Israelis now work to create interfaith relationships and dialogue with Palestinians.

The Trials of Friendship Between Israelis and Palestinians

The Lemon Tree traces several phases in Dalia and Bashir’s friendship. When they were young, they were idealistic about forging a friendship based on open dialogue and the connection emblematized by their sharing the same house (in fact, they both lived in the same room in that house, though of course at different times). When Bashir first visited Dalia, she gave him several lemons from the tree that his father, Ahmad, planted in the 1930s. These lemons were such a poignant reminder of the house that Ahmad built that he kept these lemons in a glass case in his house in Ramallah, where they represented not only Bashir’s dreams of returning to his home but also Dalia’s recognition of his longing.

Maintaining this friendship did not prove easy, however. In part, the challenges were external: Dalia and Bashir had difficulty staying in touch over the years, as Bashir was jailed many times and then lived for a time in exile. Even after he returned to the West Bank, the security barriers set up between Israel and the West Bank made it hard for Dalia to visit him. Though justified as necessary for Israel, these physical boundaries also function as a symbol of the mistrust that Dalia repeatedly describes as hindering mutual understanding and (ultimately) peace.

Despite Dalia and Bashir’s respect for one another personally, Tolan shows that their friendship was also marked by seemingly irreconcilable disagreements. Bashir continued to hope for his family’s return to his old house; he favored a one-state solution in which anyone who came to the country after 1918 would need to emigrate. Conversely, Dalia believed in the right of Jews who settled after 1918 to remain in Israel and argued that while Palestinians possessed a theoretical right to their old homes, they could not return en masse. Instead, she argued for a two-state solution in which many Palestinians would need to accept their exile. These positions are mutually exclusive and, Tolan suggests, tend to sound nonsensical to those on the opposite side of the debate; Dalia was stunned the first time Bashir suggested she should leave the only country she had ever known, while Bashir struggled to understand what it meant to “have a right [to return], but not be able to exercise it” (261).

Over the years, Dalia and Bashir approached their differences in various ways. During the final meeting Tolan recounts, Bashir mourned the fact that the subject had even come up; he hoped by avoiding it, they could simply interact as friends. The symbolic withering of the lemon tree, which coincided with the growing distance between Dalia and Bashir, implies that this is not an option. However, much as Dalia continued to hope for the regrowth of her friendship with Bashir, she also planted another tree in her yard. Although relationships between Israelis and Palestinians can be difficult, The Lemon Tree suggests, they represent the only way forward.

The Political as Personal

Bashir and Dalia’s lives have been affected by politics and events beyond their control. Dalia’s family left Bulgaria after the Holocaust, and before they arrived in Israel, Israeli forces uprooted Palestinians like the Khairis from their homes. To some extent, Bashir and Dalia are thus representative of Palestinians and Israelis broadly. For example, Tolan draws attention to the fact that Dalia was born just days after the UN announced the plan to partition Palestine, making her birth analogous to the birth of Israel. Later, Tolan juxtaposes the failure of the Oslo Accords and the growth of the Intifada with the deterioration of Bashir’s and Dalia’s relationship. By the end of the book, while they still have personal regard for each other, they are distanced from each other, just as Israelis and Palestinians seem no closer to finding a peaceful solution to coexistence.

At the same time, Tolan underscores the particularity of both Bashir and Dalia’s experiences—the specific ways in which broad historical forces manifest in their lives. For example, the uncle of Bashir’s father, Sheikh Mustafa, expressed Palestinian nationalist sensibilities but also butted heads with the fedayeen over taxation during the Arab Rebellion. Tolan also includes anecdotes that have nothing to do with the Israel-Palestine conflict—e.g., his account of Dalia’s cancer diagnosis and difficult pregnancy. Such details emphasize that Bashir, Dalia, and others like them are multifaceted individuals rather than mere stand-ins for their respective “sides.”

The very structure of The Lemon Tree emphasizes this. In intercutting between biographies of its two principal figures and its overview of Israeli and Palestinian history, it illustrates how the political and personal intertwine but also how they can diverge.

The Power of Individuals

Despite its sweeping look at the history of Israel and Palestine, Tolan’s book centers on individuals, and it features several examples of individuals whose efforts truly make a difference in the fight for justice. One of these people is Asen Suichmezov, who owned a leather shop in Bulgaria during World War II. With others, he traveled to Sofia, the capital of Bulgaria, to intervene to save the Jews in his nation by meeting with the head of the parliament. When he arrived at the train station in Sofia, he saw the cars ready to deport the Jews, meaning their deaths were imminent; it was only through his intervention and that of other people, including Metropolitan Stefan, the highest-ranking Orthodox official in Bulgaria, that Dalia’s family and others like them were saved. A similar scene occurs during Tolan’s account of the Naqba, during which a Jewish man warned his Arab neighbors to flee their homes or face death at the hands of the Israeli armed forces.

This idea that individuals can alter the course of history informs Dalia and Bashir’s dialogue. Dalia in particular devotes herself to interfaith dialogue, believing in “the power of ‘person-to-person relationships’ to ‘touch the deeper humanity that goes beyond all national and political differences—a deeper humanity from which transformative miracles are created’” (179). In keeping with this, she also engages in various efforts to address the status of Palestinians—e.g., her protests at the Phalangist massacre (with Israeli complicity) of Palestinian refugees and her attempts to make amends to Bashir’s family for the loss of their house.

However, this latter example also reveals the limitations of individual activity. For one, Dalia cannot legally return the house to the Khairis. Moreover, she stresses that this is her personal choice and not one she can make on behalf of other Israelis: “Dalia […] saw Open House, with its programs of encounter between Arabs and Jews, as the result of one choice made by one individual. ‘It’s not an overall solution and it’s not a political statement’” (261). For Bashir, this is deeply dissatisfying, as many families besides his own were dispossessed. Nevertheless, the very premise of The Lemon Tree—its focus on Bashir and Dalia—implies that individual action is at least a starting point for change.

blurred text
blurred text
blurred text
blurred text