Last week, a Passover Seder was organized in Israel by Amnesty International and other activists for a unique group of refugees. Not Palestinian refugees, but asylum seekers from Sudan and Eritrea who had fled genocide and violence in their home countries. The refugees' story should sound very familiar to Jews as we commemorate our liberation from Egyptian slavery over 2000 years ago during this Passover season. These refugees also experienced abuse and persecution, including arbitrary arrests, torture, and discriminatory labor practices [PDF], in Egypt, where they initially sought peaceful resettlement. In the face of such mistreatment, they too found the courage to flee across the Sinai peninsula and into Israel. This modern-day exodus from Egypt began nearly three years ago and remains one of the least discussed problems in Israeli politics. Some were shot and killed by Egyptian border security. All risked their life in the hopes of a brighter existence. Despite the thematic parallels between the African refugees and Jewish experience, the Israeli government has refused to recognize almost all of the asylum seekers. Thousands currently reside in Israel without documentation or official recognition, complicating employment and housing opportunities. More troubling, over 1,000 are being held indefinitely in a prison called Ketziot near the Egyptian border, including many women and children. No charges, no avenue for recourse. Although these refugees are not Jewish, neither are many of them Muslim. Large numbers came from the Christian regions in southern Sudan and Eritrea. But Sudan and Israel's mutual antipathy has affected the refugees' treatment. The Islamist government of Sudan remains an official enemy to the State of Israel and even imposes the death penalty on those Sudanese with an Israeli stamp on their passport. For the Israeli government, the prospect of Islamist militants infiltrating the country as refugees is a real danger, meaning that security and demographics trump humanitarian concerns in policy deliberations. Groups such as Amnesty, Human Rights Watch, and Hotline for Migrant Workers have spoken up for the Africans, but human rights activists in Israel do not wield the influence necessary to change government policy. With no domestic refugee law -- though Israel is a signatory of the 1951 Refugee Convention -- inaction is still convenient for all political parties. The larger issue of Palestinian refugees looms right beneath the surface of any refugee legislation, and few, if any, politicians are willing to approach that explosive third rail. The internal politics are understandably tricky, but perhaps they need not be. For many Jews around the world, the annual Passover Seder facilitates an introspective search for contemporary meaning within an archaic text. This year, the parable has perhaps never been as instructive. The Seder for the African refugees in Tel Aviv symbolized the universality of liberation and empowerment. It inextricably linked the Sudanese and Eritreans to the Jewish experience and reminds us that the true test of Jewish tradition is applying it when times are good. Recognizing the African refugees and providing them with assistance in coordination with the UN High Commission for Refugees is the Jewish thing to do, even if the Israeli government stubbornly refuses to see it.
-- Josh Linden
