Traveling from South Africa to Israel during vacation makes for interesting reflection, particularly in light of recent debates over what constitutes apartheid. The debate has hovered above Brandeis the last month thanks to former President Jimmy Carter, and it will splash down next week when Carter comes to speak on campus.It was Carter who sparked the recent apartheid debate with his book accusing the Israeli government of oppression toward Palestinians of the same kind that was infamously leveled on South Africa's people from the late-1940s to mid-1990s.

The validity of Carter's views aside, my travels in South Africa and Israel showed that apartheid is a very human tragedy, and the voices of those oppressed (and even those once in power) are often the most revealing ones. The more I reflected on Carter's book, the more I realized the true inability of the dry and academic tone to do justice to the tragedy.

Carter should be required to accompany other voices as he comes to Brandeis, but not Alan Dershowitz, whose presence in a debate-style event with Carter was briefly, and fleetingly, considered by some. Instead, Carter should face the families on both sides torn apart by the tragedy in the Middle East.

There is of course compelling evidence of "apartheid"-style policies in Gaza and the West Bank. According to Israeli journalist Amira Hass, access to the majority of roads is granted solely to Israeli settlers, while Palestinians are relegated to inferior backroads, and even essentials such as water are much more likely to be distributed to Israeli settlers before it comes to Palestinians.

Yet, these facts fail to convey the dismay of a Palestinian family whose property is torn away without recompense due to territorial greed. These facts also fail to convey the horror that Israelis feel when Qassam rockets are fired at their homes. Looking purely at the facts in terms of borders or United Nations declarations fails to instill properly the feelings of immediacy and urgency that are so prominent in the region.

Indeed, there is no absence of voices on both sides. Israeli media are extremely vocal about the human suffering of suicide bombings, and the news runs reports of victims' families and their suffering; in recent years Israeli-Arabs and Palestinians alike have become particularly vocal in the media worldwide. There is a thriving Palestinian rap scene that is filled with the same angst and feelings of oppression that so typified the 1990s "gangster" rap in the United States.

It's important never to lose sight of the individuals crying out for justice in this region, and to provide legitimate outlets for their expression; if human agency cannot be expressed in any other way, suicide bombings and extremism seem to be the only recourse.

We should also look inside of Israel, a place from which Carter averts his eyes in the book, to hear the Israeli-Arabs' feelings of misrepresentation and inequality, and also to hear the 2,000-year longing for a Jewish homeland. Both of these feelings are essential to understanding the complex bubble of emotions in the area.

Academics and historians can often be too concerned with the fine points of the Balfour Declaration or the boundary lines after the 1967 War to realize that the fears and longings on both sides also play a significant role in the conflict. When Israeli-Arabs see that Jews worldwide have automatic citizenship rights in Israel while their spouses in occupied territories are denied emigration rights, it's inevitable that they become frustrated; likewise, when an inalienable right of return is claimed by former inhabitants-Palestinians-now numbering four million, Jews understandably feel trepidation about losing the only homeland they have ever known.

All of these ideas would be lost in an academic debate. Historian Howard Zinn is one of the best examples of someone who understands that even though government can play a role in policy and collective action, individual voices are truly the ones that build a social mosaic. Zinn categorized oppression and struggle as a historian, but never hesitates to allow those voices to speak for themselves.

In all of the debate over whether or not Israel is an apartheid state, or whether Palestinians in Gaza are terrorists or freedom fighters, the scope of human despair and tragedy is often lost. We should not forget that in South Africa, it was not historians or academics that brought down the regime, but the voice of Nelson Mandela personifying the individual trials and tribulations of millions.