Fishing in the Sea at Gaza

            The Civil Peace Service Gaza boat (CPS Gaza) has finally started making regular trips with fishermen. Its job is to monitor human and legal rights violations at sea. The situation of Palestinian fishermen is particularly despondent even by Gazan standards. During the last officially brokered peace deal between the PLO and Israel that mentioned borders at the Mediterranean Sea, fishermen were given the right to boat up to twenty miles off the coast of Gaza. While by now that limit is an unattainable luxury, it is still biased heavily against Gaza, since it is the Israeli navy that enforces the border. Presumably this was done with the rationale that Israel needs to defend itself against water-borne weapon shipments into Gaza, which does not sit well ethically since there are no Palestinian boats (if in some alternate reality there was a Palestinian navy) patrolling the Israeli border to ensure that the Israelis do not receive any water-born weapon shipments. The Israeli military has applied successive measures aimed at tightening the economic blockade on Gaza, and now fishermen are prohibited from venturing out more than three miles from the coast.

            When I first went out to the three-mile marker it seemed like a decent enough space to fish in, but I soon found out there is little more in those first three miles than some chance jellyfish. The three miles have been overfished for some time now. This is evident when you look at the fishermen themselves—90% live in poverty, up from 50% in 2008. This policy is obviously targeting civilians. Leaving aside the ethical implications of Israel’s complete dominion over Palestinian borders, the three mile limit is not even justifiable for “security.” It is short work for an Israeli gunboat to overtake any vessel from any range. Weapons smugglers have no chance whatsoever of slipping through the net of patrol boats.

            But let’s even give them the benefit of this doubt, as ridiculous as it is. As soon as the CPS Gaza had left port today we encountered an Israeli gunboat harassing some fishing trawlers. We had watched from a distance as the gunboat came well within the three miles (the fishing trawler was stationary at two miles out) and pulled belligerently up next to the Palestinian boat. At this point the two ships were close enough so that everyone involved could clearly see each other. The Palestinian men were untangling their net and setting it up for another cast. One boat was full of people in camouflage fatigues with heavy machine guns and canons on both ends. The other was full of men wearing shorts and holding fishing line in their hands. There could be no mistaking these men for combatants. The Israelis opened fire. As soon as the CPS Gaza was close enough for the journalist on board to be seen, the gunboat relented and chugged back out to the three-mile line. To say that this was a case of mistaken identity would imply that the only requirement for becoming a sailor in the Israeli navy is an IQ below 50. Another fisherman tossed a still-gasping fish at our boat to show his exasperation. Look at me, he gestured. Isn’t it obvious that I’m fishing?

Fishing trawler fired upon by gunboat

Gunboat in the distance after retreating

Until this point I had harbored doubts about the fishing syndicate’s claims that an international presence increases a boat’s catch more than ten times over but as we proceeded to interrupt other gunboats engaging with Palestinian fishing boats it became obvious that when non-Palestinians are present the Israeli navy stays far away. On one fishing trawler that we accompanied, the men whooped and hollered and told us that this is the farthest they have been able to fish in over two years. After puttering up and down the coast for two hours, the CPS Gaza had succeeded in forcing every gunboat to retreat. We celebrated with the ecstatic fishermen and felt like nonviolent direct action was really accomplishing something. Then, as we docked, the gunboats moved back in and opened fire once again.

Maybe tomorrow we’ll stay out for longer.

Thanks to CPS Gaza for the statistics.

Rafah

            I just came back from the border at Rafah where there was a demonstration planned to protest the paltry 400 person/day limit imposed by the Egyptian authorities. The gathering did not materialize but I got a chance to witness firsthand how difficult it is to leave Gaza. No, the siege is not “broken.” Egypt is championing itself as the savior of the Palestinians when in fact it is merely catching up to its big-brother oppressor’s policies. Instead of a complete stoppage, Egypt is still barring men aged 18 to 40 years from passing unhindered—long held as Israel’s policy in the West Bank. Nabil al-Arabi called the siege of Gaza musheen—disgraceful. As if it’s not disgraceful to assume that every male between the ages of 18 and 40 is some sort of danger to society.

            The siege is not over. There are no goods allowed through Rafah, only human traffic. 400 people moving through each day (and not even that much with all the closures) will not change the 45% unemployment in Gaza. It will not stop the perpetual shelling or the random arrests. It will not make the drones leave the sky. The Supreme Military Council can keep advertising the end of the siege but Gazans are not blind idiots. They see that their tap water is still toxic and they still see a fence in all four directions.

EDIT: Additional information on why the "opening" is worthless

Visiting a Prisoner's Family

            Saleem Ali El-Kayali was first arrested when he was twenty-four. His father had just passed away and they came for him on the third day of mourning. He came and went from prison for eight years, finally settling in a dark cell for one year before he stood in front of a military judge for the five minutes it took to read out his verdict: a life sentence for possession of a weapon—an allegation that he neither confessed to nor was presented evidence of. We are discussing this over afternoon tea with his family. His brother, Ismail, narrates what has happened since Saleem disappeared into prison in 1982 for the last time.

            Saleem’s wife gave birth to their daughter in 1983. Instead of attending the delivery of his daughter, Saleem was just beginning his incarceration. The two did not have any contact for fifteen years. It was only then that she was permitted to show her birth certificate to the warden, confirming for the Israelis what had been obvious to everyone else for one-and-a-half decades: she was in fact Saleem’s daughter. She visited several times and they frantically tried to share what he had missed: toilet training, bedtime stories, days at the beach, the sun, the sky, the sea, scrapes and bruises, tears, laughs, joy, learning to read, learning to write, learning to love, learning to remember, remember that the stranger’s face in the portrait was Father. Each visit was laborious. It involved waiting at the border for hours in order to be allowed forty-five minutes together. She only visited several times because when she turned eighteen, in the eyes of the authorities, she ceased to be Saleem’s daughter. She has spent perhaps five hours in total with the man who brought her into this world.

            Saleem is now fifty-seven. Spending twenty-nine years in jail has left him with diabetes, stomach problems, and high blood pressure. At least, those were the problems he had four years ago when Ismail was able to visit him last. Now his daughter has a daughter of her own. I ask if he knows that he is a grandfather. They tell me that he probably does. Probably, as in there is not a one hundred percent chance that Saleem is aware of her existence. However, they are hopeful. Every year as a gift for the Eid each prisoner is allowed some news of his family. It is more likely however that Saleem first found out through the prison grapevine, a network that shares news heard on the radio. Maybe someone whispered to him out of nowhere, like a knife in the dark, like a shadow of joy—you’re a grandfather. This is how the Israelis extract their retribution from anyone who dares to resist an illegal occupation.

            Ghaiqa, his mother, sits with us today. She has not seen her son in more than ten years. She tells us that she misses him and now cries openly. I shamefacedly hang my head low in silence, and the silence is deafening because there is no message I can impart that will change the fact that she is ninety-seven years old and aching for her son. She sobs, I am going to die. I want to see my son. I hang my head lower because not only have I bought the walls that prevent her son from caring for his fragile mother but I have paid for the jailors as well. She is not even asking for his freedom, just for a visit, a glimpse. No one in the room wants to voice the likelihood that she will not receive it so they console her with the same word that is so common here in Gaza. It is the answer to the fishermen’s wish to do their work without getting shot at and abducted by the Israeli navy. It is the answer to the hope that the drone buzzing above will not give way to the shriek of an F16 and the whistle that only two tons of freefalling TNT can make. It is the answer to the university patient or the cancer patient stuck at the border. Insha’allah.

Support the Troops

            I was getting some paperwork done at the Cairo Press Center and on my way out I noticed there were roughly 100 people demonstrating on the ground floor. Given the fact that major protests took place here in January, the building is one of the most heavily guarded in the city—encrusted in barbed wire, with soldiers lining the corridors and perched in .50 caliber machine gun nests. The demonstrators must have been employees if they managed to access the atrium, and they were just chanting quite peacefully. Right as I walked out the door 50 soldiers toting billy clubs and submachine guns stormed the building.

            I seem to remember some news commentators remarking that Egyptians are in love with their army, and that relations between citizens and officers are excellent. From my limited experience this does not seem to be the case. The military here is as repressive as anywhere else. The junta issues pleas that urge demonstrators to go home in order to show their love for Egypt, and they subvert rallies at Tahrir by claiming there are agents at work who wish to undermine the special relationship between the people and the armed forces. The people, the real people that is, are not fooled. They do not allow government officials or the military near Tahrir. Many Egyptians learned this lesson in the Ministry of Interior, across the street from where I am living. As perhaps the most fortified building in Cairo its armed sentinels radiate for blocks. Home of the secret police, this is where women were recently abducted from Midan Tahrir and virginity-tested. Among the cluster of state ministries it is the tallest—together they form a glittering multiplex dedicated to the wonders of US-sponsored militarism “in which massacre is only an administrative detail.” They are ringed to the south by hotels in the form of 5-star Western-style paeans to rampant capitalism. I thought of Chalmers Johnson:

   As late as 1874, well after the Civil War, our country’s standing army had an authorized strength of only 16,000 soldiers, and the military was considerably less important to most Americans than, say, the post office. In those days, an American did not need a passport or governmental permission to travel abroad. When immigrants arrived they were tested only for infectious diseases and did not have to report to anyone. No drugs were prohibited. Tariffs were the main source of revenue for the federal government; there was no income tax.

   A century and a quarter later the U.S. Army has 480,000 members, the navy 375,000, the air force 359,000, and the marines 175,000, for a total of 1,389,000 men and women on active duty. The payroll for these uniformed personnel in 2003 was $27.1 billion for the active army, $22 billion each for the navy and the air force, and $8.6 billion for the marines. Today, the federal government can tap into and listen to all citizens’ phone calls, faxes, and e-mail transmissions if it chooses to. It has begun to incarcerate native-born and naturalized citizens as well as immigrants and travelers in military prisons without bringing charges against them. The president alone decides who is an ‘illegal belligerent,’ a term the Bush administration introduced, and there is no appeal from his decision. Much of the defense budget and all intelligence agency budgets are secret. These are all signs of militarism and of the creation of the national security state.

Prompted by politicians and CEO’s, myths of civilian/soldier camaraderie run rampant in our post-modern society, predictably culminating in the United States. The panegyrical debate in American politics alternates between portrayals of soldiers as the first line of defense against anti-Western Islamists and lamentations for broken heroes who are taken advantage of by their commanders. The first camp voraciously foams at the mouth for the blood of brown people. The second camp taps the brakes on an all-out assault on human life and entreats us to support the troops, bring them home. At first glance this seems like a quite reasonable place to begin the debate. We know that recruits undergo a thorough psychological battering in boot camp and as part of this conditioning split-second reactions are instilled in their subconscious. However it seems as soon as they graduate from training and enter active duty the discourse strips them of all agency.

Remarkably, the support the troops proposal is a far more hegemonic imposition. At least the right-wingers evoke a patriotic mythology that the soldier is fulfilling. On the other hand liberal reformists are outright dismissive—they do not approve of the conflict but they entreat the recruits to obey the authoritarian command structure. Blind to the realities of warfare, reformists only stipulate that atrocities halt on their command. This poses a dilemma: are we merely calling for a withdrawal from Afghanistan and Iraq because of our inability to achieve our goals humanely without rupturing the police state’s integrity? I hope not. I would like to think opposition to the conflicts is premised on the fact that belligerent war is the supreme regressive force, on the fact that it is wrong to interfere with a society that has not predicated its existence on harming us.

            If Americans are to oppose war it must be understood that as taxpayers our complicity is double—we send troops bearing our colors into battle and we meretriciously urge them to adhere to the dictates of their superiors. The support the troops argument only addresses the former and in doing so subverts true anti-war efforts. It relives the troops of their moral commitments but then punishes them for exceeding their mandate, which is not a pure one in the first place (here I am thinking of Abu Gharib and kill squads). Right-wingers assume soldiers are exercising their own morals; support the troops wants soldiers to yield to the liberal reformists’ morals, which are frankly suspect.

            When I was in the occupied West Bank I found myself face to face with troops carrying out their duties, which involved physically repressing nonviolent demonstrations. Oddly enough I met a few American citizens wearing the Star of David on their shoulders. As young adults in their 20’s they were fully caoable of acting on their own, something that would surprise American liberal reformists. The IDF punishes failure to carry out orders with prison sentences among other measures. Yet I never once witnessed a soldier choose to be court-martialed instead of beating defenseless civilians or blocking sick children and pregnant women from reaching a hospital. This is telling: given the chance (and there were many given) between committing a  malum prohibitum act—one that is prohibited by the state—and committing a malum in se act—one that is morally wrong—they chose the latter every time. It’s a similar situation in Iraq and Afghanistan and Pakistan (and now Libya and soon who knows where else). Support the troops insidiously shames refuseniks by failing to shame their comrades who chose to go on carrying out imperial aggression. If we wish to end American bellicosity it has to be through disrupting the military’s despotic hierarchy. At the end of the day soldiers are a physical manifestation of the state’s power. They are the ones who arrest civilians, bulldoze houses, deliver ordinance, fire into crowds. Unanimously told to act inhumanely during combat, they come home and turn into adrenaline junkies and drug addicts in order to forget. Truly seeking an end to American warmongering begins and ends with creating an environment that welcomes those who refuse to blindly obey. Paradoxically, this is the converse of support the troops.

Let's Try Again

            I have been in Cairo for the past week because the Egyptian government is not exactly following through on its promise to change policy at Rafah. Hopefully I will be back soon but for now I am stuck in Egypt, not a bad place to be. I’ve been going to Tahrir square every night and there is always a sizeable presence of Cairenes with a party-like atmosphere, but I knew today would be much larger because the banks emptied their cash reserves in anticipation of looting or vandalism.

I headed down after Jumu’ah and was greeted by an already huge number of demonstrators. In order to enter Tahrir square you must show your ID and be patted down. The only people not allowed are those with wooden clubs or government workers, out of fear of reprisals. After all, Mubarak’s thugs and the NDP are still around; the dictator is gone but his spirit remains. Cairo’s streets are heavily militarized but once I got past the security check there was a definite sense of communal relaxation. Everyone from the trash collector to the person checking IDs is a civilian volunteer. There are several podiums with musicians and party members on the stump.

People are here for many reasons, but a majority is calling for the establishment of a livable minimum wage and the redistribution of property and wealth. Pretty radical calls. Continued U.S. aid to the military has not endowed them with enough power to quash the protestors’ demands for a more egalitarian society, but it has been a hard-fought battle. After deposing Mubarak, many were dismayed to find out that the government’s exterior had changed to a greater extent than its organs. Today Egyptians are calling for a second revolution, this time to deal with deep-rooted economic and political barriers. One sign reads, “I want a ruling council made of civilians as well as the military!” and this is a more conservative message.

Despite its rhetoric, the Egyptian ruling class has not been substantially altered. During the January 25 protests, the two most common sights were the Egyptian and Palestinian flags, reflecting solidarity with Gazans and outrage towards Mubarak’s cooperation with Israel’s horrendous siege. Rafah is opening on Saturday but security will still be coordinated with Israel and a blanket of discrimination has been thrown upon Palestinian men aged 18-40 who will not have free movement between borders. Nor will the government allow humanitarian aid to pass into Gaza. Egyptians can see this continued collaboration with the occupation plainly, and they are questioning what kind of progress has been made if even an uncontested demand cannot be carried out. Relations between troops and civilians are benevolent but the army knows where its loyalties lie, and they are not with the people chanting Hurriyah. Obama’s message of change? Here is some better tear gas but don’t use it against the people. What for then, allergy relief?

Living Under the Occupation

             

 It's very difficult to describe what the realities of an occupation are. They exist in the most minute daily interactions, and yet their collective weight will warp the strongest back. This is the first part of my attempt to explain (especially to myself) how a dispossessed people live and survive.

            The drive to Beit Omar is uneventful. The asphalt is smooth, as it should be. Brand new and paid for by the state of Israel. We pass by only several cars, as expected. After all, few people this deep in the Palestinian West Bank are allowed to travel on a road marked, “Jews Only.” Of course, the fact that I am not Jewish doesn’t matter. Rather, it’s a camouflaged sign—unmasked, it would read, “No Arabs Allowed.”

            On the outskirts of the village I have to finish my trip on foot. Supposedly, I am entering Area A—a tiny patch of land perhaps 10 square kilometers in size, one of a handful of places where Palestinians should technically have full sovereignty over their property.

            Immediately, an Israeli military watchtower dominates the landscape and the sky simultaneously. Its grey, foreboding exterior (made more serious by the row of tinted windows on top that resemble a pair of sunglasses) is broken up by four splashes of white, black, green, and red paint: the Palestinian national colors.  An unearthly hum comes from deep within. This is probably one of the only air-conditioned structures in the village.

            Just behind me on the paved road, a truck blocks an Israeli Defense Force Humvee from speeding past it, trapping the vehicle behind its caustic exhaust. Everyone laughs as the soldiers honk angrily to no avail. Some shabab holler at the bogged down Humvee. A small victory for the Palestinians.

            From now on only dirt roads exist. Even though the last car drove by twenty minutes ago, the air is still as thick and heavy as cigarette smoke. A lone man is hosing off the road. Perhaps this is what he does with his life. Unemployment hovers around 60 to 80 percent in the idyllic village of Beit Omar. Or, as the Israeli civil authorities prefer to spell it, Beit Ummar. It is not enough for them to have expropriated much of the community’s olive groves, generously donating them to Jewish settlers (who live for free thanks to the Democratic Jewel of the Middle East). No, the Israelis must also control how the name is transliterated.

Everything and everyone must be dominated, coerced. At night teenagers from the nearby Jewish settlement sneak around and cover the English and Arabic writing on signs, leaving only the Hebrew unscathed. Their message is clear: God gave the land to the Jews. And until the signs are cleaned, the villagers must suffer the additional humiliation of having to read in the language of their oppressors. No. In this place, a simple redistribution of bountiful land is never enough.

            Back to the man with the hose. His “job” is a relatively new one. Until several months ago, Beit Omar had more paved roads—dilapidated, but paved nonetheless. Then someone had a reasonable idea of improving the roads.

            Work began. The Israeli civil authorities watched as plans were made. They watched as equipment was shipped. The soldiers in the watchtower observed tractors and road-breaking equipment being unloaded. A UAV took photographs from far above as meter by meter was carefully demolished. Then it photographed the men who tilled the dirt and collected any shards of the former road. Every move was carefully observed and obsessively documented. The Israelis had plenty of time. They were diligent and methodical in their actions. They always are.

When the new asphalt arrived, the Israelis quietly and courteously halted the construction, citing some obscure ordinance that prevents Palestinians from improving their own land. There was no time for argument. In a matter of minutes they killed the road.

            Now, as the residents of Beit Omar walk in the dirt and choke on copious amounts of dust, they have the additional pleasure of knowing it was their own hands which ripped each chunk of precious asphalt from the ground.

            The Israeli military machine will stop at nothing. It knows no decency. Only the purity of Jewish blood.

Does Wikileaks matter?

Sill-shot from Collateral Damage video

            Now that some of the fervor over the latest Wikileaks releases has subsided, many of us are left questioning where the organization stands in the political sphere. At times anarchistic, at times liberal-minded or even libertarian, Wikileaks and its ‘publicist’ Julian Assange are often inconsistent. Judging from recent developments, however, what has really happened is that the organization shifted from a semi-anarchistic dogma and melded itself into existing liberal politicking. What is interesting to note is the disparity between how the organization views itself and its actual place on the political spectrum.

            To begin with, the actual leaking of documents (or the principle of leaking files—the most damning cables have been redacted at the behest of the Obama administration) was a direct attack on our society’s power structures. At least, it appears that way.

What Mr. Assange fails to realize is that power is not concentrated in a few figureheads at the top, latched onto our society like a Frankenstein-sized behemoth. Rather, power permeates throughout our lives. Wikileaks learned this lesson in the form of service terminations by MasterCard, Visa, Amazon, PayPal, Apple, etc. After all, how many of us carry those logos in our pockets?

Wikileaks’ naïveté is also evidenced by its method of publication: instead of freely releasing the files, it chose to work with five major corporate media conglomerates, failing to recognize that, among others, The New York Times, The Guardian, and Der Spiegel are deeply rooted within the existing power structures that Wikileaks seeks to disrupt.

It seems as if Wikileaks has a very traditional conception of power—as an evil conspiracy mainly located in the high echelons of government—and seeks to challenge that power through pathways that appear independent of such influences.

At least, that’s the story that Wikileaks itself tells. The actual files, however, give an entirely different reading. It is important to realize that the vast majority of leaked files give no new perspective on America. They simply confirm what alternative news sources have been insisting for decades, and name some of the actors who are obsessed with day-to-day maintenance of Empire’s dominance and their actions: direct collusion with corporations; tit-for-tat diplomatic spats; spying on the UN; secret meetings with world leaders.

Wikileaks itself doesn’t understand how to use its information effectively. Julian Assange is treating the leaked diplomatic cables as if they are evidence of a few power-hungry schemers. This misconception is nothing new. Human rights organizations already fruitlessly attempt to work within the system, through legal or political measures, missing that the problems arise from corporatism and the entire philosophy of American exceptionalism. Empire has proven that it will either adapt to or quash any existential threat immediately, as long as it flows through prearranged channels.

However, there is something incredibly radical about releasing this information, even in its currently limited form. Now, power knows that we know that it knows that we know its dirty little secrets. Like a couple with persistent infidelities, once everything is out in the open it’s hard to keep on living a lie.

In fact, by publishing the Wikileaks exposés, The New York Times is quietly tapping on its own death knell. Democracy Now! and other nonstandard news sources have been writing about these topics for years. We can no longer trust that corporate monoliths such as The New York Times and its European counterparts will dig incisively for valuable news rather than filler. The real value in the Cablegate leaks is that they disregard entirely those avenues that we usually turn to in challenging Empire and its cohorts. They also serve to show us, unsurprisingly, just how inherent power is in our societal structure.

This is why Cablegate gives us such hope: one of the disadvantages of mass is that momentum is a killer. It takes time to shift directions. The recent Wikileaks scandals have echoed around the world. For a second, power lost its footing. This is remarkable. As citizens we can move faster and, with the political space opened up by the leaks and events surrounding them, mobilize effectively against tyranny.

Recent events in Tunisia are directly linked to this. After 23 years in power, President Ben Ali was forced to step down after protests erupted throughout the country. The cause? Diplomatic cables, which confirmed that the U.S. supports Tunisia’s ruling family, were likely the spark to land on the tinder.

Revisiting a Dark Recess

I just met a soldier who was in the IDF over the summer. He served in Hebron and Beit Ummar, places I frequented. I walked past a few times in an effort to remember where I knew that face. The olive drab Hebrew insignia on his shirt gave it away.

I’m struggling to remember him. Sifting through countless photographs, perusing my memories. But it’s so difficult to remember. The easiest way to tell soldiers apart was their guns. Some carried an M16, others wielded an M4 carbine. Some had double magazines taped together; optic sights; underbelly grenade launchers. Almost all had that self-assured sly smirk.

Of course my memory doesn’t work very well. I mostly remember a mass of soldiers, blurred together. The stench of sweat-stained clothes and helmets. Rough hands on my body. An occasional punch to the kidneys.

What I do remember, unmistakably, is the uncontrollable rage that I felt every day, every hour, every second, living in the West Bank. Not being treated as a person, not ever. The occupation isn’t just a few soldiers on patrol. It manifests itself in every aspect of one’s life. Signs dictating which roads are for Jews only; checkpoints that can be avoided by walking a few miles around (clearly the route a suicide bomber would take—only the weak and infirm are forced to wait endlessly for their documents to be scrutinized at a kiosk); the fear when a settler or soldier passes by; HAVING NO WEIGHT, NO HUMANITY AT ALL.

Just a few months ago that person had all the power. With a simple point of his finger he could have my passport taken, have me beaten, or have my friends dragged away, never to be seen again. Or he could do it himself. He could shift his M16 to his hip, shove me to the ground, and stuff his boot on my neck. I was helpless, but that’s nothing compared to the power he had over other Palestinians. He could pull out a pistol and execute some grocery worker in broad daylight without even a reprimand from Tel Aviv. I’m glad I finally left that fucking hellhole, but my Palestinian brothers and sisters can never leave.

Now that soldier and I are equals. We attend the same university. He can’t treat any student like that, not even if he or she is Palestinian. I’ve been dreaming about what this would be like for weeks. Standing there, my entire body was just frozen with fury.

My memory’s pretty shaky, but I’m pretty sure I was in Palestine. I’m pretty sure what I remember witnessing really did happen. But standing there was so surreal. Meeting the torturer in different circumstances. Maybe now I have the power. The liberty to speak out without getting a fist in the gut.

Anyway, we got to talking and soon enough the real issues came up. I asked him how he felt about beating up kids and old ladies (which I witnessed his squad doing). The response: ‘I was just doing my job. Look, I’m not really into politics. All that’s a part of my past life.’

Is murder and torture something you can really walk away from and not look back?