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On Provincialism
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Saturday, April 05, 2003
Talking about Jewish .... There's a new TV channel on satellite. A religious channel. I spent part of the evening watching it. I enjoyed it. There's something fresh about it. There was a nice travel program called "The Wandering Jew" with Jacky Levy, one of the cooler religious guys in the media, who showed us round Rome from a Jewish perspective (from kosher restaurants to the Arch of Titus and beyond). Then there was a talk show sort of thing with this ultra-religious guy and a dummy that looked just like him. It was fascinating. I'll maybe tell you about it some other time.
posted by Imshin 23:34
Flashback episode
I am not in any way what could be called an observant Jew. I do not spend Shabbat as my religious brethren would have me spend it. I do not pray. I do not go to a synagogue. I do not read the weekly portion of the Torah, although I did one year, not for religious reasons, but because it was an interesting, enriching experience. In some mysterious, magical way, the weekly Torah portion was always extremely relevant to the week's events. Maybe I'll start doing it again, sometime. I eat kosher because I am a vegetarian, not because of my faith. I don't partake in most of the Jewish ritual that would define me as "religious". In Israel the boundaries are quite clear. You are either religious, or you are not.

However, I light candles every Shabbat eve. Why do I do this? I'm not sure. Is it because it makes my secular Shabbat special? Is it because my mother and my grandmothers and my great-grandmothers did it?

I am a Jew because I was born a Jew, not out of conviction. But as such, my Jewishness is at the very core of my being. It's more than a religion.

Down the centuries, all you had to do, ostensibly, was to change your religion, to revoke your Jewishness and you could change your destiny. But could you really? Spinoza did it, and he was still regarded a Jew, although shunned by his people. Dizraeli did it and he is probably remembered to this day a lot because he was a Jew. The Inquisition helped people purge themselves of their Jewishness even after they had turned their back on it.

And there were the Nazis. For them there was no escape, no absolution, no mercy for those that had committed the terrible crime of being born a Jew.

It was different in Islam, I'm told. The Muslims wholeheartedly welcomed those who had seen the light. Now, I hear, we are monkeys and pigs. Should we convert, do we cease to be monkeys and pigs? How does this happen, exactly?

My Jewishness is more than a time and a place and a ritual.

Is it right to define oneself as others would define one? Maybe not, but isn't this often the case? A mother is a mother because her children make her one, not because she feels like a mother.

I could keep quiet about my identity, pretend to be something else, "play it down". I know people who do that, people who don't live in Israel. I once met a very sweet American girl whose family had been doing that for so long that she really didn’t know anything at all about Judaism. For her being Jewish was synonymous to being a nice person. That was more or less it. I live in Israel. I don't have to feel apologetic about being Jewish. I can be nice just for the sake of it, not to prove anything. Even better, I can be not nice without feeling I am somehow damaging all Jews everywhere.

I don't want to be religious, but I still want to sing at the top of my voice and bang on the table at the Passover Seder for all to hear. No, not Next Year in Jerusalem - This Year in Jerusalem! We have ceased waiting for the miracle. We have made it happen ourselves.

I have read elsewhere that Israel is not necessary. That America is the place where Jews can be free and safe. Well I don't know about that. My green card hasn't yet arrived in the mail, and even if it does, I doubt I'll make use of it. This is my home. This year I will sing at the top of my voice and bang on the table and so will my neighbors on all sides.

Ah yes, about your neighbors, I hear you say. What about the other ones, the ones that won't be sitting down to the Seder table to sing about freedom?

What about them?

I've written quite a lot about my neighbors. Round about Yom Kippur, I wrote
this:


In the eighties, before and during the first Intifada, I felt ashamed and embarrassed by the occupation.

I did reserve duty in the Gaza Strip (pretty unusual for women at the time) and got a good look at Rafah, Han Younes and Gaza City. The result was that I suddenly understood the demographic problem. Round about the same time, I was shocked to see a 12 year-old Palestinian boy washing the floor of a Tel Aviv restaurant at one o'clock at night, and it wasn't even summer. A young Palestinian construction worker confided in me that his deep ambition was to be a policeman, but that they didn't have a police force.

My feeling that something had to change intensified during the first Intifada. When the opportunity arose for Palestinian self-rule which was to gradually become (as I saw it) Palestinian sovereignty in the territories, I was all for it.

The feeling was euphoric. No more shame. We were finally doing the right thing. At last we would be able to be on equal footing with the people we share this country with. It felt like the Messiah had come.

* * * * * *

This time around I have no feelings of shame or embarrassment. I have compassion for the Palestinians' suffering. I'm sorry about innocent Palestinians being killed. I feel for their families. I wish it could be different, but I feel no guilt.

They had their chance and messed up big-time. The blame is theirs, not ours.

And round about Hannuka I wrote this in answer to a detractor:

...The thing is, I am sad about those Palestinian children. I am deeply saddened by the suffering of the Palestinians. I often think of the Palestinians I have met in my life, and I wonder how they are getting along. I am sad, no, I am much more than sad, I am heartbroken that my dream of coexistence and peace was shattered in September 2000, when the Palestinians, having turned down the best offer they could possibly have hoped for (had they really meant to make peace), turned to violence in the hope of getting more.

Go away and leave me alone. Go back to your orderly world of good guys and bad guys and simplistic ideas of justice for the world's oppressed. You may mean well, but your good intentions could very well leave my family and myself homeless and defenseless, if we're lucky enough to live that long. Not that that would bother you. We had it coming after all, especially my seven year-old.

I am too weary to care what people like you think, or have to say, anymore.

I don't know how personally involved you are in this conflict or how the outcome will affect your life. For me, the Palestinians are not some faraway victims of heartless oppression; nor are they symbols of an heroic struggle for world peace and justice; they are not an exotic people fighting a wicked, cruel colonial power that is out to annihilate them, either.

The Palestinians are my neighbors, and I am fond of them, as one is (or should be) of one's neighbors. I am sorry that they are suffering and I am prepared for painful compromise, as one is (or should be) with one's neighbors.

Up to a point.

If my neighbors interpret my generosity and openness to compromise as weakness; if based on that interpretation, my neighbors try to force me to accept their demands at gun point; if my neighbors try to terrorize me out of my home (and I'm not talking about the territories) - they will find that I have ceased being a "nice" neighbor. They will find that I am just as determined and resilient as they are, if not more. They will find that I will never give in to their extortion.

I truly believed we could live side by side in peace and equality, sharing and growing together. I still hope (more than anything) that the Palestinians will put down their arms and cease their violence, and then we can once again renew our difficult but not impossible historical attempt at working out our differences peacefully.

Until that time, we are at war.


This war is not some sort of sick game we play for our enjoyment, as you seem to think. The soldiers in this war are protecting their homes and families (nearly all in pre-1967 Israel). And they know it. They know only too well, that if they don't catch (and if necessary kill) that suicide bomber, hiding in that alley, surrounded by women and children, it could very well be their eleven year-old sister on her way to school in Hadera or in Netanya or in Tel Aviv who is blown to smithereens next. What would you do in their place?

As usual I started writing about one thing and seemed to have wandered off in the middle. I have some more thoughts about Passover, which I will keep for another time.

posted by Imshin 23:04
Friday, April 04, 2003
Aaaaaaaaaaaah!
Who switched all the mirrors with life size photos of a bimbo with red tinted blow-dried hair?

But seriously...
I now remember why I've avoided hairdressing salons all these years. You can easily die of boredom, for one thing. I wonder how often they come back to find that the woman with her head in the sink, waiting for her blonde dye to take, has to be carted out?

I spent half an hour with my head thus, staring at Fashion TV. This would have been bearable if I had had my glasses on. As it was I could just make out if the creature on the screen was male or female and the color of the garment it was wearing. I could more or less see which body parts were revealed, but not well enough to enjoy the experience.

The next hour I spent staring at a blurred version of the red tint bimbo, while her hair was being cut (for about three seconds, by the boss. What's wrong with the kid who cut Eldest's hair? I can hear the cash machine clinging in my head.) and blow-dried (for ages by the kid). All this time I'm trying to work out if I've ruined my very expensive new glasses by sitting on them.

Now all this surely can't interest anyone, but I did promise an answer to a reader about some pretty heavy questions about religion and "The Situation". And now I have to ask myself - Is the bimbo up to it? Or is she just a mass of flowing auburn locks (Good grief, Imshin, what are you talking about? It's not that spectacular. And it's actually not all that red, either. And what's with the sexist remark?).

Well, this is all something for me to look into over the Shabbat, which I will spend mourning years of carefree hippi-ness, washed down the drain of the hairdresser's sink, along with the leftovers of the red tint mixture.

Shabbat Shalom!

posted by Imshin 18:13
Thursday, April 03, 2003
Who are you and what did you do with Eldest?
Well, I’ve nearly done it. I’m well on my way to growing up. I have an appointment at the hairdresser’s for tomorrow at three. A hairdresser hasn’t touched my hair since Youngest was born. I don’t like having my hair messed with. So it’s rather long. Caveman style. Very cool. When it got too long I would always find someone at work to snip off the ends. But now the white hairs are getting a bit much and I really am getting a bit old for the wild look. Time to start acting my age.

It wasn’t actually my idea. Eldest started demanding to have her hair styled. I did try to discourage her but she was adamant. What can I do? She’s an adolescent. I don’t know any hairdressers, I told her, hoping that would be the end of it, but she went off and found one herself. I couldn’t deny that her friend T. and her mother both have very nice hair. It took another week for me to come by the phone number. This evening we went and did it. And what do you know? It was fun. Eldest looks great and she’s over the moon. And they were very nice there.

Tomorrow’s my turn. Oh, dear.

posted by Imshin 21:53
Wednesday, April 02, 2003
Asparagirl fisks an anti-Zionist beautifully.
posted by Imshin 18:00
There is always something exciting about the Hamsins of early spring. Last week was rainy and cold and wintery. Today the Hamsin desert wind, or Sharav in Hebrew (Hamsin is Arabic), began to bring the heat and the dryness of the desert right into the city. Summer in Tel Aviv is very humid and sticky. The Sharav is dry and dusty. When I'm walking outside during a spring time Sharav, I like to imagine it's still cold and wintery and I am the lucky one, all wrapped up in a warm, dry blanket. I can do this, because in the springtime, the sun is not yet as fierce and unforgiving as in the summer, however hot the wind may be.

The beginning of the Sharav can be deceptive. My friends in the next office came to work wearing light clothes; everyone knew the Sharav was coming. They laughed at me when they saw I had come in suede boots, even though I was wearing a thin skirt and summery blouse. But our offices face north and they soon began complaining that they were cold. If you keep the windows closed during a Sharav, the cool weather gets trapped inside.

The feeling of excitement that the Sharav wind brings with it is symbolic. This is a season of new beginning. One of the many paradoxes in Jewish tradition is that although we celebrate Rosh HaShana, the New Year, in the month of Tishrei, which falls in September or October, the month of Nisan, which falls in March or April, is actually the first month. Nisan is the month of the wheat harvest and this is when we celebrate Passover, the festival of emerging from slavery to freedom.

When the wind changes and the Sharav breaks it will be time to start cleaning the houses for Passover. There's no point starting before because the sand and the dust get into everything. Maybe I'll actually get round to doing it this year.

posted by Imshin 17:37

The General of the Army
Thought that war was balmy
So he threw away his gun
Now he's having much more fun

Spike Milligan

The best anti-war poem ever.
(Recited from memory).

I loved it when I was a kid, but it didn't make me a pacifist. Even as a child I could see it didn't make much sense.

posted by Imshin 17:31
Tuesday, April 01, 2003
I'm feeling uncomfortable about yesterday's post. I'd like to point out that Youngest is more interested than most kids her age in current affairs and in stuff like the Holocaust. I don't remember having a conversation like that with Eldest when she was in second grade.

This doesn't mean other kids are ignorant of the Holocaust. Round Yom HaShoah all school kids learn about it, in a manner suitable to their ages.

Last year, when Eldest was in the fifth grade, her class was responsible for the Yom HaShoah ceremony at school. In preparation, they were shown movies, read books and had a Holocaust Survivor, the grandfather of one of the students, come to talk to them.

In high school a lot of the kids go to Poland to visit extermination camps. My nephew went a few months ago.

posted by Imshin 16:52
Monday, March 31, 2003
Brutal Realities
Following
the terrorist attack in Haifa that killed 17, including 9 kids, at the beginning of this month (Was it really less than four weeks ago?) Allison wrote that "Most Israelis believe in letting their kids in on the brutal realities of life here from an extremely young age". She didn't have comments on her blog at the time, and she was yet to publish an e-mail. I had quite a lot to say about this statement at the time, but I didn't. I somehow couldn't manage to organize my thoughts into a post to publish here. I was upset about the attack.

Next month is Yom HaShoah (Holocaust memorial day), Youngest reminds me, when I notice she is reading "Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl". She tried to read it following Yom HaShoah last year, but it was still too difficult for her. Now she can't put it down. She'll be eight next month. I couldn't have read it when I was her age, but then she's far more intelligent than I am (and fully aware of it, unfortunately).

It's much better than an ordinary diary in which the writer says today I did such and such, she informs me. Anne Frank writes about all sorts of things that are happening to other people and in the world, she says, and not just about herself. Then she asks me how to pronounce the name Margot (Anne's sister). The book is without the dots and little lines that serve as vowels in Hebrew, as is the case in all books and printed texts besides poetry, ancient scriptures and those aimed at small children (like Youngest is meant to be).

When I was Youngest's age I didn't know about the Holocaust. It wasn't that I didn't know about the Nazis or World War II or that Germans had killed Jews or about concentration camps. I just wasn't aware of anything systematic. I had no idea of the scale. I certainly didn't know any details. I didn't know about The Holocaust. I was eight, for goodness sake!

This lack of knowledge was because I wasn't living in Israel yet. It was not down to anything lacking in my education. I attended a Jewish school and lived a very Jewish life. My parents were Zionist activists. It probably just wasn't thought to be appropriate that eight year olds should know too much about it.

When we made Aliyah, my first Yom HaShoah was quite a shock for me, and it took me a while to grasp it all. At first I was convinced the Nazis somehow managed to kill six million Jews all on one day - on Yom HaShoah.

Children in Israel grow up with the Holocaust. It's just as much a part of life as terrorist attacks.

Last night, I'm helping Youngest wash her hair and she asks one of those questions I dread answering. No, not about the birds and the bees, those I can handle.

This is maybe the place to explain that Youngest is one of those kids that regularly embarrass their teachers by asking questions they can't answer. I often have to consult a dictionary or an encyclopedia, before answering her, as well (or if I'm feeling even lazier than usual: "Ask Abba" (=Dad)).

I should have looked up yesterday's first question before answering and then it wouldn’t have gone where it did. But we're in the shower, aren't we?

How did Anne Frank die?

Oy vey. I know where this is going. This is not a child who will make do with a general answer, certainly not with an evasive one. Not that I would dream of giving her anything but a proper answer, it's just a difficult subject to talk about, especially with an eight year old (next month).

I think she died in Bergen Belsen, an extermination camp, I say.

How, exactly?

Of course, I don't remember that she actually died of typhoid, silly me, and I begin to tell her how people were killed in Nazi extermination camps. A discussion of gas showers, forced labor, Zyclone B gas, the selection process (and more) follows. She knows the basics (she already knows about the gas showers, for a start), now she wants a bit more information. Each detail is examined and questioned and elaborations are asked for. I'm not enjoying the conversation. In fact, I'm feeling slightly nauseous, trying to think how and when to cut off the stream of questions. What will be too much? Then she wants to know about other extermination methods. I tell her about mass shootings. She wants to understand it all properly and I find myself explaining exactly why gas showers are more effective than guns. I'm feeling a bit woozy. I'm tired and the bathroom is full of steam. She wants to hear more. Tell me about more extermination methods, she demands, but, by this point, hair washing and shower are finished, and I am depressed and feeling guilty. I've traumatized the child, she'll have nightmares, I think, as I send her off to put on her pyjamas, relieved that we didn't get round to death marches, beatings, starvation, scientific experiments...

Worried about what has just transpired (it's not even as if I allow the girls to watch violent programs on TV), I go and discuss it in whispers with Bish in the living room. I needn't have whispered. Youngest has already been drawn back into Anne Frank's secret hidden world behind the bookcase. Bish is exasperatingly unconcerned, as always. Worse, he's pleased. Youngest, he says, is so bright it gives him hope for the future of society.

Tfu tfu tfu. I'd rather she was less interested in these sorts of things and more interested in little girls' things, the sillier the better, at least until she grows up a bit.

It suddenly strikes me that she didn't ask any why's.

She's definitely much more of a "what?" child. When will the "why?" come? I wonder. Maybe the "what?" stage is actually easier, even though it makes me feel so uncomfortable.

She didn't have any nightmares. She's a very matter-of -fact girl. She took it all in her stride. If it had been Eldest it would have been a different matter. But then, it wouldn't have been Eldest, would it?

Today I asked her if I could tell you all of this. She thought about it for a bit and then agreed, for a price. The price? A kiss and a hug.

posted by Imshin 22:42
Avishai Raviv, former agent of the Shabak (Israeli General Security Service, called the Shin Bet, by foreigners, for some reason, historical I think), was acquitted today of charges of "of failing to prevent the assassination of then prime minister Yitzhak Rabin, despite knowing that Yigal Amir was plotting to kill him". According to Ynet (Hebrew), the judges said that Raviv had no clue as to what Yigal Amir was planning to do and had no motive to withold such information from his Shabak controllers.

I got bored with this affair years ago, but the Raviv case was a very high profile affair in Israel, with certain elements on the right pushing very hard for him to be brought to justice, and the Shabak opposing his indictment. Exposing an intelligence source, especially a live one, can be very harmful for any intelligence gathering organization. Putting a live source on trial is even worse.

Let me guess: Tomorrow the headline in Yediot Aharonot will probably be something ridiculously sensational, on the lines of - "Shampania Hofshi" (Champagne is free or Free Champagne). Champaign was Avishai Raviv's Shabak code name, ostensibly because of his expensive tastes.

I'm relieved with the outcome. This was a witch hunt. And it was dangerous for the Shabak and its ability to effectively gather intelligence.

posted by Imshin 18:43
A few words by Diane on Rachel Corrie:

...This cat-and-mouse game with the "human shields" was, if not an accepted practice, an ongoing one. Well, it shouldn't have been. The ISP's website indicates that they routinely lie to get into Israel, indicating that the authorities are onto them.

These actions should be barred in the territories. Jurjen kindly points out that the usual security precautions (having a pointman shoo away people from the 'dozer) in the Disputed Territories is difficult because of the risk of sniping. Yes, so don't allow this cat-and-mouse to start at all. Go in there and secure the area and then bring on the 'dozers. If anyone breaks through, arrest and deport them.

Oh, and as Jurjen correctly points out, use of human shields is illegal. That means that the ISM volunteers are lawbreakers, and should be expelled from the territories for that reason alone. They should then be expelled from Israel and barred from entering the country



posted by Imshin 06:12
Sunday, March 30, 2003
IRAQI HISTORY VS. AMERICAN IDEALISM
Ofra Bengio and Bruce Maddy-Weitzman of the Moshe Dayan Center for Middle Eastern and African Studies discuss democracy for Iraq:

One of the Administration's major goals in the current war is to bring about a fundamental change in the nature of Iraqi political life. And those who recommend the occupation of Iraq in order to create a stable democratic regime base their prescription on the Douglas MacArthur model of post-World War II Japan. However neither the Japanese nor the German model can serve as a reliable guide for the Iraqi case, if only because of Iraq's lengthy history of resisting foreign rule.

More

posted by Imshin 23:35
It looks like phones are down in Baghdad
posted by Imshin 23:35
The big picture
I hear certain
Sky News junkies are getting fed up with this war. They miss the sports news at twenty past the hour, every hour. The war coverage on the 24 hour news channels is dreary, isn’t it?

Catherine Bennett discussed this in a rather amusing article in the UK Guardian on Thursday. She makes an interesting point:

While it would be cruel, as correspondents risk their lives, to portray the current television coverage as, at best, gruesome entertainment, and at worst, an exercise in futility, history does suggest that the midst of battle is the most confusing place from which to make sense of it.


Do my eyes deceive me? Could this be possible? Is she really suggesting that reporters in the field cannot actually understand what is happening? Could it really be that they are not able to grasp the big picture? I am shocked. This is revolutionary! Think of the implications!

Because if this is true for this Iraq war it could be true for other conflicts, couldn’t it? Maybe foreign reporters covering Jenin and Ramallah so objectively are just as clueless as the guys currently tagging along after the US forces or looking out of their hotel windows in Baghdad.

And if it’s true for professional, seasoned journalists, do you think it could possibly be true for ideological peace activists who arrive with preconditioned perceptions of what they are to find? Maybe they don’t understand what they are seeing and hearing and experiencing.

For instance, maybe they don't know what the bulldozers are doing and why. Maybe they don't realize (what every soldier and construction worker knows) that a bulldozer driver has extremely limited vision. Maybe this is how they come to be harboring a murderer and hiding weapons (Via Meryl Yourish).

Could it possibly be?

Naaaa.

posted by Imshin 20:39
During the one o'clock news they suddenly said they had received a report of a blast in busy Herzl Street in Netanya in a cafe in Haatzmaut Square. Another suicide terrorist attack. Knowing Dad often spends his mornings with his pals in such a cafe, I immediately called him up on his cell phone. He had left ten minutes before and he hadn't heard any blast, but while we were talking an ambulance could be heard rushing past. Then the other phone in the office rang and I said to myself that will be Bish. But it wasn't. It was the girls. They'd just got home from school. Youngest wanted to tell me about a quarrel she'd got into about recycling the water bottles, Eldest wanted to tell me that they'd started preparations for the end of the year show they're putting on. It was difficult making the switch, tearing myself away from the radio. I knew that Dad was fine and R.T. doesn't have lunch there, as far as I know, therefore it was of course more important to listen to the stories the girls wanted to tell me about their day than to hear an update about the attack, but it was difficult to concentrate on what they were saying. I didn't tell them about the attack. What for?

No one was killed today (besides the suicidal murderer), thankfully, but sometimes we forget that living with the injuries can be very difficult. Just Friday, on the evening weekend news, I forget which channel, they brought the story of the Netanya Park Hotel waitresses injured in the Passover Massacre a year ago. One of them, such a pretty, sunny girl with a lovely smile, was in a wheel chair. She was telling her friends how she went to the mall by herself. Our Sis and I took Mum to a mall, a few months before she died, and I can tell you it's not always easy to maneuver a wheelchair into some of the shops even when you're pushing the chair and not sitting in it. This must be one determined and plucky girl to do this all by herself.

No one having been killed today, this attack will not interest anyone outside Israel, of course. It's quite understandable. There's a war going on.

Reshet Bet radio station said Forty-five were injured, one of them, a soldier, critically. They say he was the guy who stopped the terrorist from getting into the cafe and killing many.

posted by Imshin 16:41
Dan Scemama, Israeli TV channel 1 reporter, one of those indignant Israeli journalists who were held as spies and treated rather badly by the US military, spoke on Reshet Bet radio station this morning.

Yesterday I categorized him, rather hastily, as an arrogant fool before I actually heard his full version. Now that I have heard him speak on the subject I would like to apologize and correct the wrong impression my words from yesterday may have made. He is not an arrogant fool; he is an extremely foolish arrogant fool. And he doesn't come over as very bright either (He went on and on about his terrible traumatic experience in such detail that he spent about two whole minutes telling incredulous listeners about the family of ants he and his friends adopted while in captivity. At this point my friends in the next office switched radio station in disgust). My sources (scroll down to my comment) tell me that Scemama is not necessarily held in very high regard among some of his professional colleagues either.

The Frog wondered yesterday, if this incident would maybe change Israeli perceptions of the war. I hardly think that will be the case. After all, Israelis don't have much respect for the Israeli media, as we clearly saw during the recent Israeli election campaign. From random conversations I have had about this affair, it seems I'm not the only one who thinks these Israeli and Portuguese journalists were just a bunch of idiots. Scemama was the butt of many a joke at work today. Boaz Bismut, the other Israeli journalist, I notice, seems more sensible. He got the middle page spread in today’s Yediot Aharonot. But it's Scemama who seems to be running around ranting and raving and losing more and more credibility with each interview he gives.

Update: Channel 2 just showed Boaz Bismut ranting on French TV (no less) in perfect French about the despicable treatment they got, yada yada yada. GRRRRRRRRR.

posted by Imshin 16:40



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