Speech by the Prime Minister at the International Day of Solidarity for the Palestinian People

Checked against delivery. Translated from Norwegian

A candle for peace

Friends, Ambassador Sedin,

We all feel a connection to the Palestinian people. – In the West Bank, in Gaza, in countries in the Middle East, and here in Europe and Norway. The Palestinian people are dispersed, for reasons we all know.

We all feel a connection to the Palestinian people. – Throughout recent history, they have been grappling with injustice, war and conflict.

We all feel a connection to the Palestinian people. – And to their rich culture, moving stories and their hope for the future.

 

A poem by the Palestinian poet and author Mahmoud Darwish begins: ‘We have on this earth what makes life worth living.’

And we ‘have on this earth’ a responsibility to each other, as fellow human beings. A responsibility to stand together in fellowship.

No one can help everyone, but everyone can help someone.

Norway’s efforts and commitment to the Palestinian people have deep roots. We are providing significant humanitarian aid to Gaza, supporting the fragile ceasefire and standing by Palestine’s claims under international law. – The occupation must cease, and we are working actively to ensure that the State of Israel and the State of Palestine – which Norway has formally recognised – can exist side by side, with mutually recognised borders. A secure Israel. And a secure Palestine. The only way to bring lasting stability and peace to the Middle East is to achieve a political solution – in which the Palestinians take part.

 

And we ‘have on this earth’ a responsibility to each other, also here at home in Norway.

We have a responsibility to maintain a good tone in our public discourse, a responsibility for how we choose to express our attitudes, a responsibility to show generosity and be willing to listen to others, a responsibility to meet our minority populations with openness, allow them visibility and help them to feel safe and secure.

And, not least, we have a responsibility – as political and religious leaders, or as active members of organisations, faith communities, and congregations – to conduct a debate characterised by acceptance and respect, also when we disagree.

Maintaining solidarity requires commitment.

Safeguarding diversity requires commitment.

Protecting democracy requires commitment.

No one can help everyone, but everyone can help someone.

Everyone can choose to listen and truly see others – to meet others at eye level – even when we have differing views and different experiences.

Because this responsibility for one another is something that we share. This responsibility for community. The responsibility for ensuring that efforts to build solidarity do not seek to sow division. And we also share a common hope – to achieve peace.

 

Friends,

These past weeks, I’ve taken part in many meaningful encounters with people in the Jewish congregations in Oslo and Trondheim, in mosques and in dialogue forums in Oslo and Drammen. And it is good to come together here in the Oslo Cathedral as well, right before the start of Advent and on the International Day of Solidarity for the Palestinian People, as we did last year.

On my way here today, I was thinking: What do these encounters with the various faith communities have in common?

What do I meet everywhere I go? – I meet a deep uncertainty about events across the world – especially among those who have loved ones in areas of conflict. I meet a sense of distress about the level of human suffering in wars and conflicts, and I meet a sincere hope that we here in Norway can be generous and respectful, and show each other openness and understanding. We must ‘live in peace with one another,’ as the Bible, too, urges us to do.

There is another thing I have noticed in these encounters; a commitment that unites us – the international commitment to promoting justice, safety, and peace.

Commitment is crucial. The other end of the scale is indifference.

Indifference means we don’t care. No one else really matters.

Indifference is silence.

We must use our commitment to take action. We have to get involved.

There are communities here in Norway today that are being subjected to threats and harassment.

And even worse. In August, Tamima Nibras Juhar was brutally murdered, at work, in a racially motivated attack. A terrible thing.

We are seeing a rise in Islamophobia and antisemitism, and the clangour of inflexible, unforgiving extremist voices is increasing.

But most of us are not part of those groups, and we have to ask ourselves: Do we want these extremist views to dominate, to be the ones that define our understanding of ‘commitment’? No, which is why each and every one of us has to get involved. For instance, by taking part in solidarity services such as this – and thank you to the Oslo Cathedral, one of the city’s steadfast bridge-builders.

 

Friends,

The Palestinian artist Jumana Manna is designing what will be one of the largest artworks in Norway, which you will soon be able to see in front of the new government offices in Oslo, where we will be moving next year. Democracy is reclaiming the space that was taken from us by an act of terrorism. Just a stone’s throw from here. And that is exactly what the artwork is about: stones, although not about throwing them.

The artist is creating an 800 m² stone floor, a patchwork of unique stones given by municipalities all across our country – from the city bridge in Drammen, cobblestones from Bergen, from the church in Namsos that was bombed during the war. Hundreds of stories.

‘The floor is a reconstruction,’ said Jumana Manna, who grew up in Jerusalem, with its old, symbol-laden stone buildings, which are now a part of our world heritage.

There is something deeply symbolic about this work, in front of what was a bombed-out office building. A grounded Palestinian signature, right in the heart of Oslo. Out of the destruction, Jumana Manna is building a beautiful new foundation – a city floor.

What, exactly, am I trying to say? That in life there will always be something enduring, something greater, something that brings us together – our shared earth, our universal cultural heritage, our creative power, our faith in a higher power, and our common need for safe, solid ground to stand on.

 

Friends,

We are entering the last, dark month of the year before the sun turns, before the light begins to return.

Sunday is the start of Advent – a time of anticipation, a time for reflection. In earlier times, Advent was also a time of fasting, not unlike Ramadan for Muslims.

In her well-known Advent poem – so beloved to our children and grandchildren – Inger Hagerup writes about lighting the first advent candle, and then the second, third and fourth. Candles that shine bright for joy, for hope, for longing – and most of all for peace on Earth.

Tonight, I am lighting my candle – for peace.

‘Peace on this little earth, where the humans live,’ wrote Inger Hagerup. ‘A handful of peace,’ sang Ole Paus.

A candle for peace. And for hope.

But first and foremost, for peace – a just peace, a lasting peace, a peace where people can resolve their conflicts. Peace – in the Middle East, in Ukraine, in Sudan – where enemies lay down their arms and leave behind threats and hate speech. A peace where people can harvest olives and run their shops – peaceably. A peace where hope can thrive and the future can be built, stone by stone – not into walls, but into a robust foundation.

A candle for peace.