On June 12, Rawan Osman spoke with Daniel Koren, founder and executive director of Allied Voices for Israel, which brought her to the West Coast. (photo by Pat Johnson)
Rawan Osman, among the most visible Arab advocates contesting antisemitism and anti-Israel ideology, recently brought to Vancouver a bleak overview of hate ideologies across the Middle East and North Africa – but her prognosis is hopeful.
Osman is a Syrian-born, Lebanon-raised, German-based – and soon to be Israeli – accidental activist who shared her experience going from what she said is a characteristically antisemitic Arab into an “Arab Zionist.” She spoke at Temple Sholom June 12, in conversation with Daniel Koren, founder and executive director of Allied Voices for Israel, which brought her to the West Coast.
Osman took Islamic and then Jewish studies at Heidelberg University. After Oct. 7, 2023, she founded a social media channel called Arabs Ask, to combat antisemitism in the Arab world. She is writing a book about her relationship with Judaism and Israel, and is the narrator and central figure in the documentary film Tragic Awakening, about antisemitism after Oct. 7.
“My case is unusual,” she acknowledged. “There aren’t many people born in the Arab world who support Israel.”
She recounted the story of her first encounter with a Jew. She had moved to Strasbourg, France, and found herself living in the Jewish Quarter. She had assumed that the neighbourhood’s name was like the Jewish Quarter in Beirut or Damascus – an historical designation. When she went into a grocery store on her first day there, she stumbled into a kosher grocery and saw real-life Jews for the first time.
She had a panic attack, left her purchases and belongings behind and fled to her apartment. After she recovered and returned to collect her things, she had a life-altering experience.
She made an excuse that she had forgotten her wallet but she is certain the shopkeeper knew what had happened. He asked where she was from and how long she had been in town. He helped her with her groceries and behaved like a human being, not the monster she had been told was the way of the Jew.
“He allowed me to save face and, that day, without knowing it, that gentleman converted me from an enemy to an ally,” she said. “I realized it was the first time in my life that I was sharing the same space with a Jew, the enemy, and it was the first time in my life when I asked, why is the Jew my enemy?”
Osman’s father was Sunni from Damascus and her mother was Shia from the Beqaa Valley, which is the stronghold of Hezbollah.
“I grew up in Lebanon, attending a French Catholic school,” she said. But, negotiating between her family’s dual Muslim identities and Christians in Lebanon, she chose a middle path of atheism.
“They were secular, progressive, relaxed, laid-back,” she said of her family and the broader environment in which she was raised – with one exception. “The only thing everybody hated was Israel and the Jews and the Zionists.”
She said she employs these three terms – Israeli, Jewish and Zionist – interchangeably because that is how they are used in the Arab world.
“They say, I am anti-Zionist, not antisemitic. That’s a farce,” she said. “I grew up in that part of the world and I too believed [they were different things].”
Studying abroad and having access to uncensored information in Europe was a privilege with which she was unaccustomed. The more she explored the history of Judaism and met and interacted with Jews, the more she rejected the antisemitism with which she was raised. Eventually, she moved back to the Middle East and decided to challenge the prevailing narrative.
“After living in the Middle East for awhile, I decided, OK, it’s hopeless,” she said. “I’m going to leave. I’m going to move to Europe. And I did.”
She chose Europe because she identified with Western values, she said, and because, as one person, “what can I change?”
She opted to mind her own business in Germany. Even so, she was alarmed by what she was seeing.
She viewed the notorious gang rapes that took place in Cologne on New Year’s Eve and the early hours of 2016 as a symptom of Arab misogyny imported to Europe. What was more jarring to her was seeing herself in the place of others perpetrating hate crimes. She watched a video of a young Arab man encountering a Jew in Berlin.
“He took off his belt and he was hitting the young Jew with the metal buckle on his head,” she recounted. “This was me. I was the civilized version … I wouldn’t hit a Jew. But I had a panic attack the first time I saw a Jew.”
She did not plan to become an activist. After Oct. 7, it just happened.
“I started speaking on social media and became an accidental activist and influencer,” she said. “I thought influencers made nail designs, baking and makeup.”
She is part of a small but notable group of Arabs who are speaking out against antisemitism and other regressive realities.
“We refuse to continue to raise our children and grandchildren in a world that tolerates what happened on Oct. 7,” she said.
It is something she could not have undertaken if her extended family did not also live abroad, she said. To be known as an activist for Jews and Israel would endanger family in the Arab world, which means even many who live in the West remain silent, she said. But those who have the freedom to do so need to join her, she contended.
Osman receives private messages from Arabs and Iranians lauding what she does. She admires the courage of those who write to her from the Middle East. For those writing from Sydney or Toronto, she has strong advice.
“Those people who are living in the comfort of Toronto or Sydney tell me, I’m proud of you, I wish I could do what you’re doing,” said Osman. “Don’t be proud of me, darling. Do it. Do it. You might lose a friend or two but you will make a thousand more.”
Osman has chosen to convert to Judaism and is making aliyah this summer.
“The thing I love most about Judaism, what’s phenomenal, is that Judaism encourages your imagination. It encourages debate. Two Jews, three opinions. This is the talmudic tradition. It encourages challenging ideas.
“Islamic ideology is exactly the opposite,” she said.
When she decided to convert to Judaism, she got pushback – from Jews.
“Jews will tell me, you have to be a Muslim Arab ally,” she said, noting that some have told her she has a more powerful voice as an outsider. “You’re missing the point. Converting to Judaism is a privilege, my privilege. It’s not my dirty secret. It is time to say, I stand for that.… Your ancestors accepted that mission not because you’re special – you are the chosen people because you accepted that mission.”
Israel is not an easy place, she acknowledged, but the dichotomy of life in the Jewish state amazes her. The Israeli who pushes in front of her in queue and steps on her toes would, conversely, take a bullet for her, she said.
“As soon as there is an alarm, a siren, they have each other’s back,” she said. “It’s unbelievable.”
Osman ultimately is hopeful. The new Syrian president, Ahmed al-Shara, is a jihadi terrorist turned – apparently – a suit-and-tie-wearing diplomat. Some doubt his sincerity. Osman believes that young Arabs who are drawn to extremism can see his transformation and believe there is an alternative path for them as well.
A billion Muslims are not going anywhere, she said. The only resolution to what she sees as a civilizational conflict is internal reform within Islam. This is already visible in the Abraham Accords – which she is certain that Syria will join – and the small number of activists like her speaking out.
Gabriela Rosenblum, director of education with Allied Voices for Israel, welcomed the audience and thanked Dr. Neil and Michelle Pollock of Pollock Clinics for sponsoring the event. Rabbi Carey Brown, associate rabbi of Temple Sholom, welcomed guests to the synagogue and led a prayer for the redemption of those held captive and a prayer for the soldiers of the Israel Defence Forces.