Feeling bad
Were I not Israeli, I would very likely be pro-Palestinian too. We don’t come over as very nice, do we? And maybe we’re not. But then we’re not in the business of being nice, although we try so hard. We’re in the business of staying alive.

Many years ago, I saw an episode of a science fiction TV series that left a strong impression on me. I can’t even remember which series it was. I’m not crazy about science fiction, but this episode had a powerful anti-war message that stuck in my memory.

The story was of a planet in which a war had been going on for so many years that, at some point in the distant past, they had decided to do away with the messiness of real battle. The war had evolved into a virtual war. I can’t remember how exactly it was organized but the gist of it, I think, was that people were killed by lottery.

It was decided that, say, five hundred people from one side, and three hundred from the other, had to die in a certain development of the war, and so five hundred people from one side, and three hundred from the other would be chosen randomly, and receive summons to come and be put to death. A war of honor, as it were. Very tidy. Thus the war never ended. Only the people kept on dying.

Things changed only when people from outside, the human heroes of the series, showed the inhabitants of this planet how absurd the situation was.

Thinking back on this story, it crosses my mind that the people on the planet had done the Western thing: they’d tried to eliminate an ugly, brutal side of life; they’d tried to make war prettier, with horrible consequences.

Another thought that comes up is that maybe those know-it-all human visitors should have butted out.

I have been loath to discuss the ongoing military operation in Rafiah, even though I have no doubt of its necessity. Besides worrying about our soldiers, I suppose I had been holding my breath to see if we could manage to pull it off without any nasty mistakes. No such luck.

I am so sorry that an Israeli tank killed those children in Rafiah, even if it was by mistake. I think of their mothers. My worst nightmare has come true for them. I can hardly begin to imagine their terrible anguish.

In the Intifada in the late 80’s, friends fresh back from reserve duty told that in some Palestinian homes that they had entered to conduct searches, they had come across little kids chained to their beds, to keep them from going out to throw stones, and maybe get shot or arrested. Can you imagine trying to bring up kids in such conditions?

Today’s Palestinian mothers must be the sisters of those kids. I wonder if they still chain them to their beds or if they’ve just given up.

I have been along the border with Egypt in Rafiah. It runs right through the middle of the town, very dense urban landscape. When I was there, in the late eighties, I remember people’s homes being right next to the border fence, at least in the central part of the town. I suppose a lot of the buildings adjacent to the actual border have been leveled since, to destroy existing tunnels and to prevent the construction of new ones.

Even if we get out of the Gaza Strip tomorrow, tunneling and smuggling of weapons and explosives from Egypt will continue, and the need to combat this will persist. Probably even the need to go further into the Gaza Strip to destroy weapon factories and workshops. Israeli soldiers and Palestinian combatants and civilians will probably continue to be killed.

I no longer believe that leaving the territories will give us any moral justification in the eyes of the world, when the need to defend ourselves arises again, as it surely will, even right after disengagement, as they’re calling it now, probably even, horror of horrors, during the actual disengagement itself.

The Israeli Zionist left is deceiving itself. Ceasing to exist can be our only atonement. Maybe even that will not suffice.

This is not to say we shouldn’t leave the territories. We should, painful as it may be. The only question is when and, to a lesser extent, how.

One sentence jumps out at me from Haaretz’s report of yesterday’s incident: “Dozens of children marched at the head of the procession”. These people were marching towards an area that was under curfew, in the middle of a military operation, and they put the kids in front. Cynical bastards.

You say they are the weak side, so they have no choice but to act as they do. And I say we are the weak side, because we have feelings of guilt when we kill, and they do not*.

Our guilt will be the end of us. The Palestinians’ strength is that they have no such shackles. And they make good use of ours.


______________________________
* I am aware that this is a generalization. Just as I know that not all Israelis feel guilty, I can imagine that not all Palestinians do not.

Update: R.T. to the rescue. He says it was an episode of Star Trek. I suspected as much.

Another update: A reader, Hillel (Sabba) Markowitz, explains:

The point of the episode was that when Captain Kirk destroyed the computers that automatically calculated "casualties" and the "casualty implementation stations" the other side's computers were programmed to fire real missiles to punish "noncompliance" with the treaty.

As soon as he took action, both sides immediately began frantically trying to disable their missile strike capability as they realized what had happened.

Somehow, I do not think that this would occur with our current adversaries.

Fighting in Rafiah
By Elliot Chodoff

The volume of nonsense appearing in Western media reports this week concerning the IDF operation in Rafiah in the Gaza Strip borders on the fantastic. Given that anything the IDF does is almost automatically condemned by these sources, and nearly any Palestinian terrorist act is met with at least understanding if not out right approval, this week has witnessed some of the most blatant distortions in both terminology and reporting seen in the current terrorist war.

The IDF began its operations in Rafiah early this week to attempt, once and for all, to neutralize two major security threats: the corridor along the Egyptian border which has been the target of countless attacks on IDF troops over the past four years, and the numerous tunnels which run under the corridor between Rafiah and its Egyptian sister city.

Last week, the deaths of 13 IDF soldiers at the hands of Palestinians in Gaza brought these two threats into sharp focus. Seven were killed in the corridor by roadside bombs, antitank ambushes, and snipers, and six were killed when their armored vehicle was destroyed by a roadside bomb in an operation to eliminate rocket factories in Gaza. In all cases, the weapons, ammunition and explosives were smuggled into Gaza through the Rafiah tunnels. This week it was decided to put an end to the flow of weapons from Egypt into Gaza.

Relatively high Palestinian casualties resulted, not from indiscriminate IDF fire, but from a number of behavioral phenomena on the Palestinian side. First, buoyed by their successes in the previous week, Palestinian gunmen made the often fatal mistake of thinking that they could take on the IDF in face to face combat. Second, the Palestinian gunmen used their regular technique of bringing noncombatants, especially children, into the combat zone. And third, Palestinian “bystanders” routinely exposed themselves to danger in the midst of ongoing combat.

Yesterday, the third of these phenomena led to the deaths of 8 Palestinians. In what has been termed a protest by the media, a group of hundreds of noncombatants mixed with gunmen marched toward the area in which IDF troops were engaged in combat against armed Palestinians. Ignoring orders to stop, including warning shots by a helicopter gunship and a tank, the crowd continued to approach until a tank shell, also fired in warning, exploded against an abandoned building. Immediate Palestinian reports of a massacre of 23 were soon reduced to 10, as some of the massacred turned out to be corpses removed from the hospital morgue. Later adjustments brought the total down again, this time to eight.

Naturally, Israel was condemned by the UN and most of the world for the incursion and the loss of life. It is patently unclear under which law this condemnation took place, as there is no provision in the rules of war for noncombatants marching into the midst of a firefight in mixed crowds with gunmen. It is also curious that the US abstained in the UN vote, even as reports came out of an American helicopter attack on an Iraqi wedding party left over 40 dead. Interesting how dangerous celebrations can appear when they include the indiscriminate fire of AK 47 assault rifles into the air.

Last but not least, some in Israel are using the incursion and the loss of life as evidence that Israeli settlements in Gaza are the root cause of all this evil. On this subject it should be clearly understood that regardless of whether one supports the Sharon disengagement plan or opposes it, IDF antiterrorist operations in Gaza will not end with the removal of settlements. They will only end with removal of terrorists.

North Korea arming Syria

A North Korean missile shipment to Syria was halted when a train collision in that Asian country destroyed the missile cargo and killed about a dozen Syrian technicians.

U.S. officials confirmed a report that a train explosion on April 22 killed about a dozen Syrian technicians near the Ryongchon province in North Korea. The officials said the technicians were accompanying a train car full of missile components and other equipment from a facility near the Chinese border to a North Korea port.

Jerusalem Day

The rally
The only thing worth listening to, amid the usual politicians' blah blah at last night’s rally, seems to have been Ami Ayalon’s speech.

I once knew someone who had been under Ami Ayalon’s command in the Shayetet. He said about him that he was “Ish katan gadol”. How do I translate that? A big small man? A small man of greatness? A great little man? Small in stature, but a giant in every other respect? You get the picture. This guy I knew who was under his command was also a man of greatness. He died trying to save people in a plane crash in Africa.

I think Ayalon’s speech shows great understanding, perception, and sensitivity.

"The Majority Decides" rally speech, Rabin Square, by Ami Ayalon, May 15 2004

I didn't want to come to this square and be a part of the politics of this rally. It was only the horror of seeing more of our soldiers killed that brought me here. I have no words with which to console the bereaved families. So instead I have come here, to this square, to shout out the truth as I see it.

I came, and find myself asking: Why are we here tonight? To tell the prime minister to get out of Gaza? He already knows we have to get out. To tell the prime minister that settlements should be removed? He knows that too. To tell the prime minister that he has a large majority that would support such a move? That's true enough, but that majority did not come to this square tonight.

So I ask myself: How is it that, at this crucial time, such a small segment of the public has come to this square? Why is it that Tzippi Livni, Ehud Olmert, Meir Sheetrit, Tommy Lapid and their colleagues are not here? If the majority indeed decides, how come there are so few immigrants here, so few residents of the Negev and Galilee, the poor districts and development towns? If we are the deciding majority, why did we give up so glibly on our religiously observant countrymen, who could not make it here because we scheduled the demonstration for Shabbat? The truth is this: The speakers on this podium – myself included – and you out there in the audience do not represent the deciding majority!

Let me tell you why the real deciding majority is not here. They are not here because we who stand in this square tonight have not managed to win the hearts of the deciding majority. We never created a real dialogue. Perhaps we never really
wanted to. We turned the settlers of Judea, Samaria and Gaza into enemies. We arrogantly turned them out. We monopolized the quest for peace. That is why the majority did not come here, although I know that, today of all days, they wanted to come.

This majority is sitting at home and keeping silent, despite the fact they want
peace no less than us. This majority wants to leave Gaza as much as we do. But they
want to do so after lowering the national flag to half-mast, observing a minute's silence, and wiping a tear at the shattering of their Zionist dream...

This majority will feel connected to us only when the pain of those slated to be evacuated drowns out the rejoicing of those who will do the evacuating. The deciding majority – those who came here tonight and the many more who stayed away – do not and should not care who ends up signing the accord that ends this conflict. But because the majority stays silent, it has no influence or power to decide, and therefore becomes meaningless.

Israel today has a prime minister who, I personally believe, wants to make progress. Where or why, I really do not care. I believe that after tough deliberations he arrived at the painful conclusion that all the Gaza Strip settlements must be evacuated. I believe he is capable of carrying this out, that he has the determination and the power. I believe that only he who feels great sadness on the day of the evacuation will be able to pull it off without finding himself in the middle of a civil war.

I believe that leaving Gaza is a small step for the people of Israel but a big step for the vision of a democratic Jewish state living in peace with it neighbors. It is a big step for the Zionist dream!

But to leave Gaza, we need for the majority to break its silence. It has to say – no, to shout out – what it thinks. We need an organized majority to tell the prime minister: "If you go ahead with this, we will be with you!" We need a big-time majority, not small-time politics. Gaza is no longer a matter of politics, it is a matter of preserving lives.

Therefore what we must do is speak not only of disengaging from Gaza, but also, most critically, or reaching consensus with those who are not here tonight but think like us. Like us, they know where we want to go. Like us they know the painful price we must pay to get there. Like us, they have red lines. Red line: No Palestinians will return to Israel proper under a final accord. Red line: Palestine will not constitute a threat to Israel's security. Red line: There will be no civil war in Israel.

That leaves the question of when it will happen, when will the day finally arrive? When every person standing here, and all those who think like us but stayed away, gets up in the morning, every morning, and asks him or herself what they are doing to bring that day closer. Has he written a letter to the prime minister, government ministers, Knesset members? Has she written to a newspaper? Has he signed a petition, or signed up others? How many? Has she demonstrated at the junctions, or put up posters? Does it burn like fire in his or her soul? This day will not come on its own, but only when we fight to bring it about.

The Canary and the Kitten
Shoosha helps me meditate. She sits in my hands, or she curls up on my lap, or she stretches out on my leg, and she purrs.

Should I forget myself and get up and go, she will wake and cry.

The gas is creeping up the mine. But the miners cannot see, and they blame the canary.

So I’ll just sit here with Shoosha, she’ll purr and I’ll breath. We’ll be quite happy and contented, on our little cushion, as we wait for the gas to reach up into our cage, and kill us.

Yael has the list
of fatal terrorist attacks in Israel since peace broke out in 1993.

Listening Project
A prominent Arab columnist calls for Arafat to resign.

Jihad Al Khazen:

I do not care what the enemies say. I care about you. However, I care more about the Palestinian cause, which must be more important to you than yourself.

Nevertheless, you did your best for Palestine. It is you right now to relax.

If you resign today, you will leave with your head up high.

A democratically elected Arab president resigns. Democratic elections are rare in our countries; resignation is rarer.

My friend, resign. Enough is enough. Do it and give yourself a chance. Give the cause a chance.

(Here is the Arabic version).

In the past, this columnist, Jihad Al Khazen, rejected Arab Holocaust denial, saying

"The Arabs did not murder the Jews in Europe or in any other place. The reciprocal massacres between Arabs and Jews throughout history, including the last fifty years, were very limited and cannot be compared with the murder of the Jews by the Nazis. Therefore, there is no need for us to deny a crime committed by others, and for which we have paid the price."

[…]

“…it is impossible for an Arab to come and claim that his knowledge about the Holocaust exceeds that of American or European historians. It is inappropriate for an Arab to defend the opinions of a historian [Irving] who was described by a Judge as racist, anti-Semitic, suspicious, and a supporter of neo-Nazis who treats the Jewish people in an insulting manner...”

"What is proper to say is that it is inconceivable that a people that was saved from the Holocaust persecutes another people, deports it, destroys its property, and steals its land."

Interesting.

* * * *

Yes but...
As if to prove Jihad Al Khazen’s point, according to AP, today Arafat

...called on his people to be steadfast in their struggle against Israeli occupation.

He ended the speech with a quote from the Quran.

"Find what strength you have to terrorize your enemy and the enemy of God," he said. "And if they want peace, then let's have peace."

But AP points out that

Arafat, whom Israel accuses of supporting militant groups, did not appear to be calling for new attacks on Israel. The passage in the Quran refers to the early Muslims' wars against pagans and is frequently invoked by Islamic leaders today to encourage strength in times of conflict.

Erm, okay.

[My dearest Bish, who has yet to get back at me for yesterday's post, supplied the links.]

Lights in the Distance: I see snow falling. So lovely.

The Canary and the Kitten
Shoosha helps me meditate. She sits in my hands, or she curls up on my lap, or she stretches out on my leg, and she purrs.

Should I forget myself and get up and go, she will wake and cry.

The gas is creeping up the mine. But the miners cannot see, and they have discarded the canary.

So I’ll just sit here with Shoosha, she’ll purr and I’ll breath. We’ll be quite happy and contented, on our little cushion, as we wait for the gas to reach up into our little cage, and kill us.

Afterthought: No, they blame the canary.

What fun!
Dragan suggests Susan Sarandon for the part of Diana in Salam Pax: The Movie. I think they could do better than that. I wonder who Haggai would suggest.

Update: Haggai suggests Debra Winger. Excellent choice, I love Debra Winger.

Laurence Simon’s new Blog Is Full Of Crap. Sorry Dad, his words not mine. It’s a quote, that’s what it is, a quote.

American Digest: Invitation to the Beheading of an American Jew. Powerful stuff.

(I can’t find how I got to this. My apologies to whoever referred me.)

Different mentalities (I used the dirty “M” word! Don’t tell my sociology professor!)
Political correctness hasn’t really caught on in Israel, except among serious, intense, academic lefties (yawn). As a result, interracial tension and bickering between Jews from different origins is often openly expressed. Is this worse than a situation whereby people may harbor racist notions, but feel compelled to keep them to themselves?

I prefer to know where I stand. If, for example, someone thinks I am a dry, frigid bitch with no sense of humor, based on the fact that I am an English born Ashkenazi from Polish descent, I’d rather he said it to my face. Then I can retort that he can knife me now and get it over with, him being a violent Moroccan. And now that the air has been cleared we can go and have a coffee with Bish, who being of Turkish ancestry is expected to not only understand all about coffee, but also to have an affinity for... erm... never mind, not suitable to mention in nice society.

Don’t ask me where all these prejudices come from, but in Israel every single community of Jews from every corner of the globe has a few of these crosses to bear (excuse the highly inappropriate imagery).

This is just a way of letting off steam. The badmouthing, although loud, is usually quite affectionate. You can regularly hear married couples, whom you know to be quite happy together, having a go at each other’s inherent faults based on traits their great grandparents ostensibly brought with them from Georgia, Yemen, Iran, Azerbaijan, Germany, and so on. Try telling them that this is not a healthy basis for their relationship. You probably won’t be invited again.

So if you are in Israel, and you are mixing socially with a loud, diverse, colorful, happy-go-lucky group, and you hear things that sound very unpleasant to your ear, don’t be offended - take it as a complement. No one there is trying to be something they’re not. They’re not pretending to be very posh and European and impress you. They’re just being themselves - loud, diverse, colorful, happy-go-lucky and completely unbearable. Welcome to Israel!

Or should I say, to the Mediterranean. Did you ever see My Big Fat Greek Wedding? I never laughed so much.

My dad always used to be amazed that the verbal violence rampant in Israel didn’t lead to physical violence more often. He would watch in wonder as drivers would get out of their cars, have a screaming match about who had right of way, and instead of coming to blows, each would just climb back into his respective car and drive off, feeling much better.

I recently watched in disbelief as two respectable, distinguished looking elderly gentlemen, went through such a loud, unruly performance in a quiet cul de sac in north Tel Aviv. The name-calling was highly amusing. Youngest could easily have thought up more sophisticated insults. They both seemed so agitated, I was afraid one of them would have a heart attack. But a minute later, they were gone.

I used to spoil drivers fun by refusing to play. ‘Oh, you’re quite right. I’m so sorry. I’ll be sure to be more careful next time’. I would say, humbly, and I could clearly see the disappointment in their faces as they slunk back to their cars, muttering in frustration.

The people you’ll hear saying the worst things about Arabs, may also be the ones who will be inviting Arabs to their weddings, britot (circumcision celebrations), funerals, and vice versa. Ask them about it and you’ll find that they are neighbors, business partners, co-workers, friends, and that they completely fail to see the irony. This is day-to-day coexistence.

It’s not like those who make a concerted attempt to “co-exist” by creating artificial contact and dialogue, while making an effort to ignore differences in mentality (that word again). This is real.

Jonathan once wrote about the open and indiscriminate cooperation between Jewish and Arab criminals in Israel and between Israeli and Palestinian criminals. It is quite natural.

Is it worth anything? Does it lead to peace in any way? I’ve no idea. But there it is. Things are not always what they seem to an outsider.

Me, I’m a coward. This young lady really is combating on the front line.

A Response To Murder: Strengthen The Good

Listening project
The shame of the atrocity, by Nazir Majali, Israel affairs commentator for several television stations in the Arab world and for the newspaper al-Sharq al-Awsat:

There is an acute and trenchant debate among Arabs, too, about the abuse of the bodies of the soldiers who were killed in the explosion in Gaza on Tuesday. Even though everyone notes that the military force that entered Gaza wasn't there on a hike but had come to bomb, not a few Arabs feel a sense of shame at the images of the atrocity and view the brutal act as one that above all defames Arab culture, which is based on respect for the dead and is revolted by the abuse of bodies. The religions in which Arabs believe - Islam and Christianity - also forbid such acts.

Unfortunately, however, a great many Arabs show understanding and even justify the act. Their hatred blinds their eyes and closes their hearts. Like many in Israel, they think in terms of revenge.

The Palestinian Peace Camp?
So where are they, these peace loving Palestinians? Why have they never gathered on the streets of Gaza and Ramallah to demonstrate their yearning for compromise? Or to protest brutal terrorist attacks perpetrated by their brethren? Why do they never talk of their conciliatory tendencies on television? Or in letters to the editors of newspapers? Surely they could do it anonymously, if they were afraid of retribution.

All we ever hear are accusations, anger, and indignation.

I know a lot of lovely Israelis who sincerely want to right the wrongs done to Palestinians. Many are people I know well, and I know that they mean it. They really do care. They do not make do with trying to alter government policies and to change attitudes of the general Israeli public. They also seek out opportunities to meet with Palestinians and they make a real effort to open their ears and hearts to their suffering. They listen to what they have to say. They listen with compassion and sadness and guilt.

Are there no Palestinians who are willing to listen to us?

* * * *

There is no reason to listen to you, I hear you think. You are the oppressor. But how do you know that there is no reason to listen to us, if you have never tried?

___________________

Update: "Today I saw one Jewish kid with his hands bound behind his back executed by five oppressed Arabs...
John"

The old question – do we, as bloggers, play into the hands of terrorists by referring to their horrific sites in which they celebrate their barbaric blood-fest, and by doing so dishonor our fallen soldiers?

I say we do*. I say we go and we see, carefully, mindfully. I say we go and we see and while we are looking, we think to ourselves: How do I feel looking at this? Am I shocked? Am I horrified? Am I sick? And on the other hand, how did I feel looking at the photos of American soldiers torturing Iraqi prisoners? Also shocked? Also horrified? Angry? Ashamed?

So where is the Palestinian shame at such pictures? Where is the Arab horror? No, they rejoice! They revel! They are proud of their barbarism. President Arafat has to pressure them to shelve the worst of the footage, not out of humanity, but out of cold calculation, so as to minimize the harm to their image as poor little victims.

How angry they were at pictures of Iraqis being degraded (degraded, not murdered) by Americans! How indignant! And maybe rightly so.

But Americans being slaughtered on camera? Israeli body parts being kicked around the streets? Why, that’s the best show in town! Show it again, Ahmed, show it again! What fun!

I say we go and we see, so that we know exactly who we are up against.

______________________
* By the way, I am totally opposed to having these photos published in newspapers or aired unedited on TV, but those clicking through from here to the Islamic Jihad link I gave, having read what I wrote, knew exactly where they were going and what they were going to see.

I feel bad about the Washington Post. They thanked me so nicely for registering after I told them I was chairman of a production company with 10,000 employees and that I was born in 1901.

ISRAEL IS SHOCKED AND HORRIFIED and sick to the stomach by the bloodthirsty festival Palestinians are conducting around the remains of Israeli soldiers killed in Gaza.

Here are some horrible photographs of the head of one of the Israeli soldiers on a Palestinian Islamic Jihad site.

Bish read somewhere that they were playing soccer with one of the heads.

Ehud Yaari called it a cannibal fest.

Another cannibal fest is that which celebrates the murder of American Nick Berg in Iraq.

I am going to hold off on my little listening resolution for a while. Not up to it right now.

Update: Telegraph:

There is something diabolical about the Palestinian demand for concessions before they return the body parts of the Israeli soldiers blown up in the Gaza Strip yesterday.

To put it very mildly.

Yes there is racism in Israel. There is racism towards Israeli Arabs (although nothing even near to the vicious hatred Arabs outside Israel seem to have for Jews and ‘Zionists’, and it's not state racism, Arabs have full citizen rights, although there are inequalities that are, one hopes, gradually being fixed) and there is tension and some animosity between groups of Jews who came to Israel from different parts of the world. European Jews used to feel and act superior to Jews from Eastern or Arab countries.

But this has changed immensely in the last twenty years. For one thing, it is extremely “uncool” to be Ashkenazi in Israel these days. Ashkenazis may still be a relatively strong, affluent segment of the Jewish population, but Eastern Jews have become more and more prominent in politics (where being an Ashkenazi is a very clear setback), in the army, in government ministries, in education, in entertainment (where they rule supreme), and more or less everywhere else. And mixed marriages (such as mine) are gradually rendering the distinction increasingly irrelevant. I have a little story I would like to tell about this, but now is not the time.

Update: I'm not being mean not telling. Its just that I'm not in the mood. Here's me babbling on about anti this and anti that while little girls are being shot point blank in cold blood and people are getting their heads sawn off (I couldn't watch it) and others' heads are being played soccer with.

Listening
Can you understand how difficult it is for me to read that I have no right to be living in my home, that I am a criminal, a thief, a murderess, a Nazi?

* * * *

When we have an idea in our head, we often close our eyes and ears to anything that doesn’t coincide with this idea. We already know. We don’t need any further input.

I know I do this. I may try not to, but I do. Bish finds this tendency of mine extremely infuriating. I think the trick is to try and be aware that this is happening and then there is a possibility that we will manage to open ourselves to other ideas.

I know this doesn’t happen just to me. It happens to other people too.

If, for instance, I am discussing what anti-Zionism means to an Israeli, and you are a caring person, who is very concerned about Palestinian rights, you might not be able to hear what I am saying at all. This might happen if, for instance, all the time that you are listening, a little voice inside your head is shouting “But what about the injustice to the Palestinians? But what about the injustice to the Palestinians? But what about the injustice to the Palestinians?” and so you are not able to hear my words, above the racket the little voice is making.

Maybe I am not talking about the Palestinians right now. Maybe I am saying something that is not about the Palestinians that is worth listening to. Maybe I am saying something that will help you understand why Israelis do things that they do. Things are usually not black and white, after all.

Maybe, even if you don’t change the idea you have in your head as a result, hearing another point of view, without immediately judging, can enrich you and to some extent deepen your insight into the situation.

And then, when I come to listen to what you have to say, knowing that you have listened to me, really listened, maybe even with some compassion, it will be easier for me to open my heart to your point of view, as well.

So this is what I am going to do – I am going to make an effort to be better at listening to other points of view, and I am going to try to be more aware of when I am shutting things out with the little voice shouting in my head. This is very difficult, because I find many things I read and hear extremely threatening. And then fear arises, followed by anger and defensiveness.

Update: Thank you, Angua.

Israel is not all about abusing Palestinian rights, you know
A powerful early childhood memory of mine is of my mother yanking me out of our local branch of a national chain of maternity, baby, and children’s merchandise, muttering, as she marched me down the road away from the store, that we certainly wouldn’t be going there again.

I had been busy minding my own little business, wandering around the said establishment, being suitably seen and not heard, as was expected in those days of little English girls with golden curls and pretty, frilly dresses, while my mother did her shopping.

Something had been said, in the store, something that had caused my mother to be very much offended. I’m not sure what it was, only that it was something about Jews. I don’t even know if it was directed towards us personally.

Not long after that occurrence, we were living in a different world, a world of strong smells, blinding sunshine, and deep shadows. Frilly dresses were no longer part of my life, nor were anti-Semitic remarks.

* * * *

I’m so relieved to have finally solved the anti-Semitism/anti-Zionism equation for myself (anti-Zionism = selective anti-Semitism). This has been bothering me for quite a while.

For a Jew living in Israel, anti-Semitism is a very fuzzy-brain inducing concept, because we rarely experience it here personally, and even if we do, it’s more likely we’ll regard it as an amusing curiosity than as a threat. This is probably why Israelis abroad are sometimes insensitive to subtle anti-Semitic nuances.

We certainly don’t have the opportunity to meet any real live anti-Zionists very often, as strange as this may seem. I think that if we did, the far left self-flagellation crowd here would probably be even smaller than it currently is.

It was perhaps relevant to talk of anti-Zionism eighty years ago, before Israel existed, or even sixty years ago. But now that Israel has been a fait accompli for the last fifty-six years, in spite of repeated attempts to destroy it using various methods, and not to mention the fact that three generations of Israelis, and more, have nowhere to “go back to”, to talk of the illegitimacy of its very existence is ludicrous, it’s a joke. People live here, real people, people who have never lived anywhere else.

And the idea that Israelis and Palestinians can live together in some sort of united, secular state in peace, in the foreseeable future, as opposed to a two-state solution, is completely unrealistic and can mainly serve as an indicator of the naivety of those who suggest such an idea, and their ignorance of the state of affairs here.

If I understand correctly, anti-Zionists, out of their belief that Jews have no right of self-determination (here or anywhere else), would like to see a cancellation of what they see as the historic aberration that is the State of Israel. But such a cancellation is clearly no more than a fantasy solution, an imaginary miracle cure to all of the world’s ills, a magical fairy path leading to everlasting World Peace.

I am an Israeli. Yes, I was born somewhere else, I speak excellent English and have in my possession, besides my Israeli passport, a much coveted EU passport. But I grew up here. I have lived here all my life, besides early childhood. I know no other existence. Put me anywhere else in the world, and I will be an exile, a refugee. This is my home.

Unlike me, most Israelis, including my very own Bish, do not speak excellent English* and do not have foreign passports. This is the only place in the world where they belong. This is their home.

Anti-Zionists don’t seem to realize, or care, that abolishing the State of Israel, should that be possible at all (and it isn’t), would leave five and a half million people homeless.

Anti-Zionists don’t seem to realize, or care, that abolishing the State of Israel, would create terrible suffering and misery, and it would probably not even alleviate all the suffering of the Palestinian people (at least part of which is self-inflicted, and will continue to be so, until they learn to take responsibility for their fate, regardless of Israel). It certainly would not contribute in any way to World Peace. It could very well be seriously detrimental to World Peace.


____________________________
* Of course you speak excellent English, Bish dear, I was just trying to make a point.


Afterthought: I’d like to point out that when I talk of anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism I am talking of Western anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism. As I see it, Arab, Muslim and Palestinian hatred of Jews and unwillingness to accept the State of Israel is something completely different. I can’t explain this feeling of mine offhand. This is a subject for another post. I’ll get round to it (if I finally got round to tackling the anti-Semitism/anti-Zionism question, anything is possible).

This is where it ends



Yesterday I saw a documentary about the man who took this famous photograph, Yevgeni Khaldei. He gave the impression of having been a devoted communist. Amazingly, despite his notable contribution to his country, to the way of life he believed in, to the war effort, and to Stalin, he was persecuted by the Soviets, for being Jewish.

* * * *

The first communist I ever met was a tiny, white haired old lady, who lived alone in a very large, very sparse apartment on Arlozorov Street. Her communism was a solitary island of sweet, simple innocence, which sharply contrasted the rest of her colorless, barren, rather bitter, existence.

Every so often she would disappear, sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks. The first time it happened, I stood outside her door, knocking, waiting, and worrying if I should call the police. Later I discovered she had committed herself into a mental hospital. She did this regularly, I learnt, when life got too much for her.

She didn’t really like living in Israel, she said, and often talked wistfully of her nephew in Australia, but as far as I knew she had never made any attempt to leave. With all her criticism, maybe she felt safest here.

In 1945, hundreds of thousands of people just like her were wandering round Europe, completely lost, trying desperately to find their way back to a place that no longer existed. Eventually, realization would descend on them and they would set out to create a life for themselves somewhere else, just like Jews had been doing for centuries, every time their world crashed in, picking up their peckalach, and moving on to the next place.

But this time, some of them said No! There must be a reason for our surviving. Moving on to the next place and starting all over again is not good enough any more. This is where it ends.

* * * *

Ideology is a tool we use to put order into life, to give it meaning. Zionism is just another name for ‘This is where it ends'.

Of course anti-Zionism doesn’t equal anti-Semitism. Anti-Zionists don’t necessarily hate or even dislike Jews per se. They are just opposed to Jews who are arrogant enough to say ‘This is where it ends’. Anti-Zionists, in fact, do not have a problem with the nice Jews*, the ones who had the commonsense to move on to the next place at a favorable time, or even if they didn’t, still continue to subscribe to the moving-on/starting-over thing.

Anti-Zionists are only opposed to the Jews who, having been reckless enough to stick around to be vomited out of Europe, or foolish enough to be forced out by the Arabs, couldn’t find the strength in them to just carry on somewhere else, business as usual, any more. Anti-Zionists are only opposed to the homeless Jews.

Only they’re not homeless any more. Israel is their home. And this is where it ends.

* * * *

Meryl Yourish points us in the direction of this powerful essay, about the hatred of Jews down the ages, and today, by Cynthia Ozick.


________________________
* Some of the anti-Zionists are, in fact, such nice Jews themselves.

Haven’t quite got over Youngest’s belated birthday party, yet. Five Youngest compatibles stayed over last night, quite a shock to the system. And tonight we have to go to a bonfire for Lag Ba’Omer.

I have been wondering why all these European kittens in the photos are so chubby and healthy-looking, while Shoosha is eating us out of house and home, and remaining just as scrawny looking as on the day she arrived.

Something to do with ancestry, perhaps? There is something of the Cleopatra/Queen of Sheba look about her, don’t you think?

Update: Alisa suggests that she does look like this Egyptian cat, from here.

How come I wasn't aware of this Israeli (formerly American?) blogger? Very remiss of me. Excellent stuff. A must for those wishing to delve deeper into the peculiarities of Israeli society - all those things I take for granted and wouldn't think of writing about. And there are photos too.

* * NOT A FISH EXCLUSIVE! * *

Still in early development stages -

Said to be the beginning of a revolution in urban warfare -

From a secret location somewhere in Israel, we bring you exclusive, previously unrevealed, inside details of Israel’s newest and deadliest weapon to date:

The Shoosha!

I haven’t been writing about the Likud Party disengagement referendum, because I couldn’t understand why they were having it and what it meant, and the truth was I didn’t want to understand. But the results of the referendum are extremely fuzzy-brain inducing. It somehow doesn’t seem credible that a small bunch of people, representing no one, elected by no one, should decide for all of us on such a question. And I certainly don’t have clarity of mind to think about the political implications.

I haven’t been writing about the disengagement at all, regardless of the referendum, because I really don’t know what to think about it.

Of course, I am in favor of getting out of that hellhole, and the sooner the better. But I’m not sure if the time is right. We’re in the middle of a war of terrorism and psychological pressure. Is this really the time to be displaying what will probably be interpreted by the other side as weakness, and as a sign that terrorism is successfully wearing Israel down?

And I’m not sure if I trust the people, who would be running the show, to handle the actual details and logistics of an evacuation of civilians in hostile territory properly. This is very crucial. If they did this wrong, it could be so horrible and so traumatic that it would make things far, far worse for a long time to come.

On the other hand, maybe it would serve as a jolt, a turnabout that would make a big difference, the start of a move in a better direction. There is always the hope that it would be understood by the Palestinians as a step of good faith after all. Even if it wouldn’t be, at least it would get us out of there, and save lives of soldiers and civilians in the short run, and the majority of Israelis would sigh with relief.

The idea feels good, it feels right, but maybe that feeling is just impatience, a yearning for it to end already, regardless of sensible reasoning?

I don’t know and I can’t be bothered to think about it.

And I haven’t been writing about the mother, her four daughters, and her unborn baby, who were slaughtered, so brutally and heartlessly, yesterday, because I haven’t had the energy to engage in the mental effort required for writing about such horrors (Via Allison).

Tomorrow morning I am going away again till Thursday. See you then.

Shoosha is continuing her successful international modeling career by participating in the Carnival of the Cats #7, this week. I know, I know, I am horrible, exploitive adopted mother, trying to increase my traffic by taking advantage of a poor little kitten.

The competition is fierce. Take a look at this cutie that stole the heart of someone claiming to be The Queen of All Evil, no less. Well, she hasn’t fooled us.

What am I talking about earplugs? How can I not watch? The excitement is bursting out of the TV. You should have heard the crowd burst out with their unofficial rendition of HaTiqva, the national anthem.

I’ll just go hang up the washing first.

A time for humility?
Helena Cobban on Israel killing Rantissi:

What follies, follies, follies!! How can anyone imagine that actions like that … will bring peace??

The one thing you can say in favor of Hamas, and its recently departed leaders, Yassin and Rantissi, is that, unlike the Palestinian Authority, it has never pretended to be interested in making peace with Israel. It has always stated its goals quite clearly – the destruction of the State of Israel, the extermination of the Jews residing therein, and the establishment of an Islamic entity in its place.

We Moderns, with our superior knowledge and understanding, believe that it is legitimate and acceptable for an organization like Hamas to strive bravely on towards its declared goals, which must be worthy and just, because they grew out of the suffering of the downtrodden. And we Moderns know for a fact that Israel is currently the only thing standing between the world and real, eternal peace. There was a poll.

We Moderns believe it is possible to do away with all the unpleasant aspects of life. We have the technology. We will eliminate war; we can cancel suffering; no one has to be hungry; no one need be ill; we will extend life indefinitely; we can bring happiness to everyone, for eternity.

Again, Kohelet comes to mind:

A season is set for everything, a time for every experience under heaven:
A time for being born and a time for dying,
A time for planting and a time for uprooting the planted;
A time for slaying and a time for healing,
A time for tearing down and a time for building up;
A time for weeping and a time for laughing,
A time for wailing and a time for dancing;
A time for throwing stones and a time for gathering stones,
A time for embracing and a time for shunning embraces;
A time for seeking and a time for losing,
A time for keeping and a time for discarding;
A time for ripping and a time for sewing,
A time for silence and a time for speaking;
A time for loving and a time for hating,
A time for war and a time for peace.

Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) 3, 8 (From the new translation of the Holy Scriptures according to the traditional Hebrew text).

I suddenly notice something about this passage. Something is missing. Do you notice it too? It is something that is so much a part of modern life that it seems like we can’t do without it. Read it again carefully. See if you can guess.

The thing that is missing in this passage is judgment.

Kohelet isn’t saying that one is good and the other is bad. He isn’t saying that this is desirable, while that is to be avoided. He is saying that there is a time for all these things, yes, for death, for sadness, even for destruction, for hatred, for war. He is describing the way the world works. He is telling us what to expect.

Israel didn’t kill Rantissi and Yassin as part of its quest for peace. It killed them in self-defense. ‘If he comes to kill you, prevent him by killing him first’*.

This is a time for war. We didn’t ask for this war, we didn’t instigate it. On the contrary, I believe we did our best to prevent it. But make no mistake - however unpopular it makes us - we have no intention of losing it. Defeat is not a luxury we can allow ourselves.

We are the canary in the mine. Given the nature of terrorism, the future is quite clear: if we lose, be prepared, so do you. But let me tell you a little secret: if we lose, I really couldn’t care less what happens to you.

_________________________________

* ‘If he comes to kill you, prevent him by killing him first’ - a popular quote in Israel. It is from the Talmud, explaining something from the Torah - Exodus 22, 1:

If the thief is seized while tunneling, and he is beaten to death, there is no bloodguilt in his case. If the sun has risen on him, there is bloodguilt in his case.

(From the new translation of the Holy Scriptures according to the traditional Hebrew text).

Jewish sages discussed this:

The commentators explain that the somewhat ambiguous phrase, “There is no blood for him” (“there is no bloodguilt in this case” – I.J.) …, means the thief’s killer bears no guilt of manslaughter (as discussed by Ibn Ezra, Rashbam). The Mishna provides the basis for this case: “The one who comes in a tunnel is judged by his end [i.e. final intention]” (Sanhedrin 8.6). In the Gemara, Raba outlines the thief’s thought-process: “If I go there, he [the owner] will oppose me and prevent me; but if he does, I will kill him” (Sanhedrin 72a).

The Talmud then summarizes the general rule for this situation: “Therefore the Torah decreed, ‘If he comes to kill you, prevent him by killing him [first]’” (Sanhedrin 72a). …the Talmud is offering a synopsis of the verses quoted above – although the specifics deal with a thief and a tunnel, the essence of the lesson is to establish justification for murder in self-defense.

(My emphasis).

There is freedom in underachievement!
I love Allison’s crude analogy about blogging.

I confess occasional frustration in having finally found something I can do reasonably well, without being able to translate it into money. According to Allison, to do so would be whoring myself.

And I feel much better about my dreary job, which consists mainly of moving pieces of paper from one side of a very small room to another. After all, someone has to do it, at least until the new computer system is ready, and it might as well be me.

I have always been slightly suspicious of our highly intelligent, obviously talented, and very talkative supermarket delivery-man. He claims repeatedly that he prefers to remain a delivery-man, because it means he doesn’t have to sell out (or various things to that effect). Finally I am starting to grasp his meaning.

Easy for me to say, moving pieces of paper around, dreary as it may be, probably pays far better than schlepping groceries, although I have no idea why.

Yasser X
French launch investigation against unnamed chairman of Palestinian Authority.

Teehee.

The Facts Of Life
An excellent article by Melanie Phillips explaining THE FACTS OF LIFE. Do you think that emphasis was strong enough? How about - The Facts Of Life!

For one thing

The first major error is the idea that Israel is torpedoing a political settlement. There is in fact no political settlement on the horizon. For all Tony Blair's insistence otherwise, the road map is dead in the water because the Palestinian Authority refuses even to attempt the map's first and most basic requirement, that it dismantle the infrastructure of terror.

Not only has it refused on the grounds that to confront Hamas would mean civil war, but Yasser Arafat's own militias — and even the PA's own policemen— are repeatedly involved in the human bomb attacks which are being regularly attempted (and mainly thwarted). You can't negotiate a settlement if there is no-one committed to peace with whom to negotiate.

And more importantly

And here lies perhaps the biggest — and most bitterly ironic — error by Israel's critics. For to its Arab enemies, far from representing strength Israel actually embodies a terrible weakness.

[…]

The danger lies in not recognising that terrorism is encouraged by weakness, not strength. Al Qaeda attacked America because it perceived the west was decadent and so assumed it was not prepared to fight. It made a big mistake over America, but it got Europe (with the exception of Tony Blair over Afghanistan and Iraq) dead right.

The history of modern terrorism is a history of appeasement. From the first Palestinian plane hijacking in 1968, the response of the west was to assume there were legitimate grievances that had to be addressed. From that point, terrorists had every incentive to continue.

In a roundabout way, Melanie Phillips is one of the people who brought about the creation of this blog, back in the dark, desperate days of the spring of 2002, when simple, everyday events, like sending the girls to school in the morning, were traumatic.

Activism
I had a brief chance encounter with an English peace activist. At first she was uncomfortable to tell me she was a peace activist. What did she think I would do to her?

She told me that West Bank settlements were growing like mad.

Once upon a time, nearly every young couple I knew, secular and religious alike, was considering moving to this West Bank settlement or the other, lured by the promise of affordable, palatial dwellings. “Five minutes from Kfar Saba” was the catchphrase. Ancient history.

I no longer know anyone even contemplating leaving the relative safety of pre-1967 Israel for a hazardous existence in a posh villa in the territories, however cheap, and however near the Green Line it may be. Bish doesn’t know anyone either and he knows a lot more people than I do.

Back in the days when everyone was moving there, the newspapers were full of attractive advertisements and the construction contractors were having the time of their lives. Not any more.

It doesn’t add up, what she said about this uninhibited settlement growth.

I admit that I haven’t been anywhere near any West bank settlements in years. I haven’t seen any bulldozers. I haven’t encountered, first hand, the alleged droves of vehicles taking alleged hoards of fervent, ideological youngsters, their families, and all their worldly goods, to allegedly inhabit their shiny new homes on remote hills. This doesn’t mean it isn’t happening. Allegedly.

It just means I don’t think it makes any sense.

Maybe she was talking about Jerusalem neighborhoods.

I asked her how she would feel if Sharon went ahead with disengagement from Gaza. She said she’d never been there but from what she had heard Gaza was just a big prison and disengagement wouldn’t change that, but only make it worse. I didn’t get it. What she was saying was: Building settlements = bad; dismantling settlements = even worse. At this point, I could clearly feel my old pal fuzzy brain setting in. This type of reasoning is way beyond my humble mental abilities.

I am concerned about her hesitance to reveal her being here as a peace activist to an Israeli, concerned and suspicious. What does that say about how she sees us as a people? I am left with the feeling that she would be happiest if we just ceased to exist, you know, by magic or something.

I’m sorry we can’t make her happy, but that’s just the way it is.

The other day I said that “Justice is always about justice for one side. Someone always loses.” Maybe I should call the people who come over here to help the Palestinians, not peace activists, because they don’t really seem very interested in peace for both sides, but Justice (for one side) Activists. Justice Activists has a certain sanctimonious ring to it. Much more appropriate.

Shabbat Shalom.

The vet’s waiting room is something straight out of a Roald Dahl children’s book. It’s the coolest place I’ve ever been in. Honest to God. I can’t explain it. It’s full of…sort of… things, cool things. It looks just like you imagined a vet’s waiting room would be like, in the land of your dreams, back when you were innocent enough to still daydream about what the world would look like, if it were perfect.

I hadn’t noticed it when I first went to pick up Shoosha. I just rushed through into the surgery. You see it was the vet’s assistant who called us, ten days ago, to see if we would be interested in having Shoosha adopt us. So they were very happy to see her again, when we brought her back to be inoculated this morning.

Shoosha got a little inoculation booklet, like the girls have, but much nicer. And the best thing is that now we know what type of cat she is. It’s written there, right underneath her name.

Cat’s name: Shoosha.
Type: Israeli cat.

Israeli cat.

While we were waiting for our turn in the coolest of waiting rooms, Bish noticed the vet’s name. Isn’t that Efraim Kishon’s son? He said. What was it someone Meryl quoted said about people here being unassuming?

Actually, the cat lover directly responsible for the vet’s assistant calling us, and our getting Shoosha, was also the offspring of a famous Israeli figure, but enough name-dropping.

False perceptions.
The funny thing was that I was certain they had lost. Round about the middle of the game there was a lot of noisy excitement, but towards the end, there was this tense quiet. Well, quiet-ish. It sounded to me, from where I was, like they were taking a beating.

I had been interested to see if Maccabi Tel Aviv would win the game, but not enough to actually watch it. I was tired, so I had gone to bed. I can hear about the game tomorrow, I thought.

But going to bed on the night of a big game does not necessarily mean sleep. I think I could have slept better had I snuggled up next to a reluctant Bish, in front of the TV. The commotion coming in through the bedroom window from apartments all around was something that could have wakened the dead. Men become very vocal when watching sports.

The whole country has been obsessing about the Euroleague Basketball Final Four, for weeks now. Bish has been very excited about it. He’s been an avid supporter of Maccabi Tel Aviv since childhood, as was his father before him. I even mentioned the Final Four myself here when the pressure was on to have it moved away from Tel Aviv, during the general silliness that followed the Ahmed Yassin killing.

So while I was in this not-quite-awake-but-definitely-not-asleep/not-watching-the-game-but-not-managing-to-avoid-it state, secure in my belief that the game was lost, I started having those worrying late night thoughts that make it even more difficult to get to sleep. If they lost, I hallucinated, there would be few spectators at the final, because of people being bad losers, and because the foreign supporters (A.K.A. “The Chickens”) hadn’t dared come to ever so dangerous Tel Aviv. I was afraid of international embarrassment.

But what do you know? They won. Saturday night’s the final. I’ll be ready with the earplugs.

A new blogger emerges
Vvvvvvvvvvvv11111111111111111111111111
ddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddddd vvvvv
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvgooooooooo
oooooooooooooo jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjv
vvvvllllllvvvvv 00000000000000000000000000000-,
m((((((((((((((((((((((((???????????????

Posted by Shoosha

Goodness gracious me!
I haven’t had this many hits since before the world lost interest in Israel, a year ago, when it became apparent that Saddam wasn't going to launch any chemical missiles at us.

Thank you, Roger.

A season is set for everything, a time for every experience under heaven:
A time for being born and a time for dying,
A time for planting and a time for uprooting the planted;
A time for slaying and a time for healing,
A time for tearing down and a time for building up;
A time for weeping and a time for laughing,
A time for wailing and a time for dancing;
A time for throwing stones and a time for gathering stones,
A time for embracing and a time for shunning embraces;
A time for seeking and a time for losing,
A time for keeping and a time for discarding;
A time for ripping and a time for sewing,
A time for silence and a time for speaking;
A time for loving and a time for hating,
A time for war and a time for peace.

Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) 3, 8 (From the new translation of the Holy Scriptures according to the traditional Hebrew text).

For Barbara,
with whom I was silent
and with whom I spoke
of loving and hating,
of war and peace.

Dear Amanda,
Thank you for taking the time to read my blog. I know it is very difficult to read opinions that differ greatly to your own. To do so requires remarkable openness.

Last summer, my mother-in-law traveled to France for a wedding. She stayed at a remote farm in Brittany. Staying with her there, among others, was a close friend of the bride and groom, a young Palestinian man. He had been born in Lebanon and had spent most of his life in France. He knew my mother-in-law was Israeli and he avoided her.

Wishing to contribute to the preparations for the wedding, my mother-in-law made ma’amouls (you can read about her ma’amouls here) to be served at the wedding reception as appetizers. The young Palestinian tasted them, not knowing who had made them. He was probably the only one who could really appreciate them. They must have brought forth dear memories, because he made the effort of finding out where they came from.

Then he came up to my mother-in-law, an act that must have required a lot of courage, and complemented her, telling her that they were better than his mother’s ma’amouls, praise indeed from an Arab man.

And they talked. And while they talked he realized that he had more in common with this elderly Israeli woman, his sworn enemy, than with all the other people at the wedding. He asked her about his homeland, which he had never seen and knew little about. And she told him. She described the sights and the smells and the sounds.

And she said something else to him. She said to him that she was more of a Palestinian than he was. She was born in 1932 in a land that, at the time, was called Palestine. And so was her father.

She told him of her childhood in Tel Aviv, and of her father who had worked in the port of Jaffa, and of the Arab children she had played with as a child.

She had lived all her life in the land he called Palestine. She had given birth to her children in Jaffa. She had walked with the groceries from Tel Aviv's Carmel Market, through Jaffa, to her little apartment in Bat Yam, to prepare food for her family. In 1967, she had put black paper on the windows of that little apartment, in the days of waiting, to prevent enemy planes from seeing it, should they come in the night. And she had sat there, hugging her two small sons, her husband away at war, fearing that the end was near.

But still, in his eyes, he was a Palestinian, he who had never set foot on the land, had never smelt its smells and had never felt its sun on his back. And she was a foreign occupier.

She invited him to come and visit. She promised to show him the country he called home, to give him an opportunity to smell the smells and hear the sounds. I have no quarrel with you, she told him. We love the same country.

On both sides of this conflict there are people, Amanda, real people. No one asked the Native Americans how they felt about the establishment of the United States of America; no one asked the people of Andalusia in Spain how they felt about the Muslim invaders in the Middle Ages, and no one asked them how they felt about the Christians who came after, with their cruel Inquisition.

No one asked the Jews of Poland if they would prefer to die of starvation in Warsaw Ghetto or in the gas chambers of Auschwitz.

The UN commission that checked the situation in Palestine and came up with the 1947 Partition Plan probably did confer with leaders of both sides. And it made an effort to come up with a solution that would solve the problem relatively fairly for both sides.

The Jews of Palestine, at the time, saw the Partition Plan as horrendous. It gave them a tiny country, cut up in the middle, most of it arid desert. Beloved Jerusalem was to remain international, and difficult to reach. Hebron, holy burial place of the Fathers, was on the other side of the border.

But still they rejoiced, because they were ready for compromise and because they knew there were hundreds of thousands of shells of human beings, waiting in Europe, remnants of the death camps, that were desperate for somewhere to go, somewhere safe, somewhere that they could, at last, call home.

Justice is always about justice for one side. Someone always loses. Life is not about justice. Life is about muddling through and trying to get along with one another. And surviving.

Nu
Israel is 56 years old today. Fifty six, that’s ‘nun vav’ in Hebrew alphabetical numbers. Nu.

So I know that on this festive day you are all dying to ask, ”Nu, so how’s the cat?”

Well, there’s something wrong with the focus on our camera. Also, Shoosha really wasn’t interested in posing on the flag. These are the best I could do.




The arms are Eldest’s, by the way. This is a very tiny kitten, although she's grown quite a bit during the week she's been here.

The fireworks in Tel Aviv were really good last night, better than usual. They had a new kind that were amazing. Just in case you were wondering.

Terrorism is cancer
If we are gentle to cancer, if we say, ‘We should give our cancer love and compassion, and then it will change its mind and go away’, then our cancer will laugh in our faces. This victim is an easy one, it will scorn.

To survive cancer we must be very strong and determined. To survive cancer we must inflict unspeakable agony on ourselves. Sometimes, we have to cut out parts of our bodies. Other times, we have to pour poison inside us, again and again. Often, we must destroy parts of our body that are not cancerous, just because they happen to be adjacent to parts of us that are. We have no choice but to be very cruel.

The alternative is to endure slow torture, a hell on earth, followed by annihilation.

World Hero
A lot of ordinary people here are mainly worried how a dingbat like him came to be working in Dimona in the first place, even if it only was as a technician.

Did you catch him on the TV yesterday? Pompous. Pathetic. It was embarrassing. What a disappointing figure for world hero!

And you’d think in eighteen years of prison, he’d have found a few minutes to learn some decent English, especially as that’s the only language he claims he means to speak from now on. Mind you, from the few words he said in Hebrew, he doesn’t speak that very well, either. And does it in a very weird accent.

I’d love to stay and chat a while about…well, what can I call him, the village idiot? But I’m going away for a few days.

At last I’m a real blogger.
Yesterday we invited a tiny little homeless kitten to come and live with us. She said, surprisingly, meow meow, which we took for a yes. She’s black, extremely adorable, and her name is Shoosha. I wanted Matilda, of course, but no one else did.

It’s amazing how fast we found her, or she found us, after we put the word out on the street that we were available to be adopted by a cat. In a few days we had discovered lots of lovely catty people, two nice young vets, and a very friendly pet shop, just round the corner, all of whom were happy to meet new cat people, and extremely grateful that we were taking in a little waif.

This isn’t our first cat. Once upon a time, there was Tallulah, named after Tallulah Bankhead. As a teenager, I once tried to read the actress’s autobiography for some reason, having picked it up in a secondhand book store, but couldn’t make it past page 2 of unbearable, self-centered drivel. Tallulah was a lovely cat though.

We found her a new home after we returned from our famous 'desertion' of Tel Aviv during the 1991 Gulf War (This is what the mayor called it at the time. Not surprisingly, he didn't remain mayor for very long after that). Well, semi-desertion, we came in to work every day. While we were gone Bish came home every day to keep her company and make sure she was alright, but we couldn’t bring her into the overcrowded air-raid shelter in Herzliya, in which we were living along with three and a half other families.

We had been surprised that Bish hadn’t had one asthma attack all through the war, even though the air-raid shelter was damp and dusty. It had to be the cat. And I was pregnant. We decided it was best to give her away. We find for her a young Russian immigrant who missed the pet he had had to leave in Russia.

So why are we taking a chance again? Well, years of Eldest's yearning, for one thing, along with our inherent cat-peopleness. Oh, and I suppose Our Sis’s transformation had something to do with it. Our Sis used to be one of those annoying people who fall to pieces whenever a cat is anywhere near: sneezing uncontrollably, runny bloodshot eyes - a real pain. While we had Tallulah she never came near us.

And then one day, as if by magic, her allergy disappeared. No more sneezing, no more runny eyes, etc. Now she shares her home with two cats, along with all her other animals (and a few humans). So we reckoned we could give it a try too. So far so good.

I really think you should read Omri's Holocaust Day post.

And this presentation, brought to my attention via Naomi Ragen's mailing list.

Thank you, Dave, for sharing your family's story.

From Anthony of Black Triangle - Primo Levi: If This Is A Man.

What to say
Eldest was upset and offended that some of the boys had laughed during the film. I asked her not to judge them too harshly. The fact that they had laughed didn’t necessarily mean that they didn’t care. It probably meant that they couldn’t cope with the emotions the film aroused in them, or that they couldn’t risk the embarrassment of being caught with the hint of moisture in the corners of their eyes, when the lights came back on.

Eldest is so sensitive and delicate. It’s not easy for me, as her mother, to see her sadness and pain, as she struggles to grasp the horror. I instinctively want to protect her.

We discussed responsibility and Europe, and the Germany and Germans of today. I asked her if she felt it would be fair for us to cast blame, even if it is only in our minds, on a German girl of her own age, for instance. After all, even such a girl’s grandmother was probably only a child during World War II.

I suggested she tried to feel what it must be like to be a German girl, and how difficult it must be for her to come to terms with the past. She understood, but I could see that she was still torn, needing an identifiable target for her anger. But there is none, and I think that is the truth we all have to deal with. This is hard enough for most adults.

How can thirteen year olds possibly cope with it all?

Sorry about the language before. I've changed it.

Both girls came home yesterday visibly shaken by films they'd been shown at school. I was very upset by this. I'm going to have to work it out before I can talk about it. Maybe later today, if I have time.

I read over my "humor" piece. It's a disaster.

For Israelis: Don't forget the siren at ten. It can be a bit of a shock for the first split second, if you're not waiting for it.

Tonight is the beginning of Holocaust Memorial Day. This is a time to remember, learn and teach. It’s not as if we don’t remember, learn and teach all the year round, how can we not? But this is a day set aside specially for that.

I’m doing this online writing course, and just my luck I had to write a humorous piece this week. It’s due in tomorrow. I have had it in mind all week, worrying about how I could possibly write anything remotely funny, when I’m feeling heavy inside. I managed to jot something down yesterday, planning to read it again today before sending it off. But today I found I couldn’t bear to read it, so I just sent it. I hope I haven’t made too many spelling mistakes.

Bish says that there is nothing you can’t joke about. He jokes about dying all the time.

Some day I would like to visit Poland and see where my family came from. From what I’ve seen on TV, Poland isn’t too hot, especially the villages. The Sephardis here laugh at the Polish Jews that, with all their airs and graces and snobbery, where they came from wasn’t much to boast about either. But I want to see anyway. And I want to see where they most likely ended up, the ones that didn’t get out on time. I want to smell the air, and feel the gravel under my feet. I know I’m only on this earth by chance.

My mother once said that after the war, family members that had survived started arriving. And they sat in the living room and told their stories. At first the grown ups thought that maybe it would not be suitable for the child to hear, but the relatives told their stories in Yiddish, so the grown ups reckoned she wouldn’t be able to understand anyway.

What they didn’t realize was that she had grown up during the war in the same house as her grandparents and she had learnt to understand their language.

So she sat undisturbed, and she heard it all.

I couldn’t care less about Rantissi. Good riddance.

Maybe you would like to visit the Yad Vashem site.

No, I mean it. THANK YOU, MR. BUSH. It is an uplifting and rare experience, to be supported in this manner.

You know, the Palestinians said something about it being like the 1917 Balfour Declaration. Made me aware of two things: A. How unpleasant the Balfour Declaration must have been for local Arabs (Can’t call them Palestinians, because they weren’t at the time, just as the local Jews weren’t Israelis). B. How exciting the Balfour Declaration must have been for Zionist Jews. It was the first time they had received any sort of serious international recognition for their aspirations, and from the leading world power of the day, no less.

I am highly amused by some of the op-eds regarding this development. Apparently “By blatantly backing Israel's Ariel Sharon, President Bush has given Arabs another target”. Huh? Oh yes. You see, luckily for the West, ”The people of the Arab countries have been remarkably patient as they watched their living standards decline under corrupt and oppressive governments backed by the West. They have been patient as Israel sat on the conquered Palestinian territories for 37 years, pushing Arabs off the land and planting their own settlements on it. They have been patient about a lot of things - but that dry, snapping sound you heard a moment ago may have been the camel's back breaking.” Beautifully put, so dramatic and moving.

How about this little gem? ”Many Palestinians saw Sheik Yassin's murder as a deliberate attempt by the Israeli government to stimulate terrorist attacks that would distract international attention from Sharon's land grab in the West Bank. The attacks have not yet come.”

This sounds like the Palestinians have been so sweet and decided to refrain from retaliating, unlike those evil Israelis who would have been completely responsible for anything that they would have brought on themselves. Hey, they were practically begging for it. Strange to hear about Sharon's land grab when he is actually planning a one-sided exit. The truth, of course, is that the Palestinians just can’t pull any attacks off, and not because they haven’t been trying. It’s the apartheid wall, it’s the evil checkpoints, it’s the illegal targeted killings (among them that of Ahmed Yassin himself) that are keeping the streets of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem safe, and not the goodwill of Palestinians.

”What did come was a statement by Abdel Aziz Rantisi, Hamas' new leader in the Gaza Strip, that "America has declared war on Allah. Allah has declared war on America and Bush."”

What is this woman’s idea? To create panic on the streets of New York (Is she, perhaps, working as a PR agent for our pals the Pals)? See what that awful Bush has gone and done now? You’re all doomed. The all-powerful Arabs will come and get you, now that you foolishly dare not to dance to their tune. You should all start shaking in your beds. You’re their new target. And it’s all Israel’s fault, as usual.

Don’t bother with the rest of it. It makes just as much sense.

* * *

Do you know what I would really like? What would be such a welcome breath of fresh air, something that would go SO WELL with Bush’s supportive statement? To read some original thinking from the Media! They are so bloody repetitive, so tiresome in their inability to read the picture intelligently. Why are they so completely incapable of seeing things outside of their usual, habitually limited scope of vision (what do you call those things they put on horses so they can’t see either sides, but only straight forward?), of seeing things in anything other than the same old two-dimensional way ? Is there any wonder I hardly read them anymore? (I can hear some people murmuring under their breath that that was a clear description of ME. Hmmm.)

It’s like this evening course I’m doing. It’s a sort of creative art class one night a week. I absolutely love it. We are all the same sort of women, North Tel Aviv middle class working mothers in our late thirties, early forties, with artistic tendencies that most of us have little opportunity to develop or enjoy. We spend the evening in this cool, musky air-raid shelter, experimenting with shape and color, (in my case) splashing paint and ink all over the place. I wait for it all day and when I get there, I’m in bliss.

But something that I’ve noticed about the other women in our exclusive little gathering, and I say this at the risk of generalizing horribly and unfairly (and of being ostracized should any of them read this), is the rigid groupthink they are subject to with regard to all things political. It’s not that politics are discussed there very much, but when they are, I get the feeling we are living on parallel planets.

From the safety of their middle-class bourgeois lives, they feign an advanced strain of anti-establishmentarianism. They’re the hip ones who see things as they should be, and their way is the solution to plenty of society’s ills (okay, so I’m exaggerating just a little to make my point), while in actual fact they seem to me to be living in a world in which thought is far more regimented. While the rest of us are free to switch viewpoints five times a day, and often do, and, in accordance with our limited mental capacities, to see wisdom in all sides (and shortsighted stupidity too) - for them there seems to be a correct way of thinking and everyone aught to be thinking as they do. Any other way equals total wickedness, immorality and decadence. Any other way leads inevitably to destruction and devastation.

* * *

Hey all you open-minded self-professed supporters of Diversity and Free Will out there! Loosen up! You’ve been smelling the WRONG ROSES!

Happy Birthday, Youngest!

Actually it was yesterday, but seeing as she doesn't read this anyway, I didn't think of posting an anouncement.

Thank you, Mr. Bush…

Shabbat Shalom.

Why was this Pesach different from all other Pesach’s?
Because this year I finally mastered that most elusive of skills – making decent Matza Brie!

Yes, it must be about ten years since my mother (Aleiyha Hashalom) gave me my Matza Brie initiation, an important milestone in the life of every young Jewish mother. She certainly didn’t neglect this most important task of passing on the tradition. I was fortunate to be taught by the best: a lesson from the true expert. The shortcoming was all mine. Maybe it was because I couldn’t fry an egg to save my life, not to mention egg with matza.

This year I dared to try again, and guess what? A happy family clamoring for more! And it gets better – they want it after Pesach is over as well.

I am fulfilled.

[I have been asked for mother-in-law's recipe for agristada and haroset. Haven't forgotten.]

Whatever joy there is in this world
All comes from desiring others to be happy,
And whatever suffering there is in this world
All comes from desiring myself to be happy.

Shantideva, as quoted by Sogyal Rinpoche in The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying, Rider Books, 1992, pg. 94.

The best thing about having the Seder at your place, if you don’t have to do any serious cooking, and Bish does most of the washing up (isn’t he the greatest?), is that you get to keep the Haroset (fake edible mortar, usually extremely yummy, symbolizing the mortar the Israelites used for construction in Ancient Egypt, while slaves). This is a special treat if the Haroset happens to be your mother-in-law’s Haroset with dates.

Another best thing about having the Seder at your place is getting to keep quite a lot of the rest of the food, especially if this includes your mother-in-law’s agristada. By now, you’ll have realized that I quite like my mother-in-law’s cooking. Agristada is a yellow sauce made mainly of lemon juice, eggs, and crushed matza, I think. Now my mother-in-law’s agristada is the best agristada in the world. Well, at least, it’s far superior to the agristada her sisters make (please don’t tell them I said this). I haven’t tasted any other so it’s maybe not fair for me to say this. But it really is so good. I can’t believe anyone could possibly make it any better.

When I met Bish, she used to make it with brain, fried like shnitzel. I can hear you saying yuck, but you must believe me, even seven and a half years into vegetarianism, I have to admit that my mother-in-law’s fried brain is probably the most heavenly thing that this planet has to offer in way of food. That is, unless you believe the graffiti on my running route, which claims, quite clearly, that animals are not food (I do believe this actually, as far as I’m concerned at least, but I also believe that graffiti is an unacceptable way of promoting such a belief and I also believe that I could be wrong, so I don’t go around trying to change other people’s minds).

I have had this thing about brain, you see, ever since physiology lessons in Tel Aviv University’s Psychology Department. You see the textbook had this delightful photograph of a human brain. There was just something about it. I couldn’t keep my eyes off it, and eventually I realized it was making my mouth water. I thought it looked good enough to eat, really - sort of cauliflowery, but better. I could never understand why I got such funny looks from my classmates when I shared this feeling with them. This was meant to be psychology - open-mindedness and all that.

Anyway, when I met Bish, and his mother actually served real brain at the dinner table, I was elated. It was like a fantasy come true. I used to take hours eating it because I just had to make have a good look at the insides of it, having taken the first little bite to free it from agristada and matza meal crumbs, before popping it into my mouth, to be savored slowly. Oh, don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t human brain, what do you take us for? Thought you’d got me there, didn’t you? “We knew there was something in those Passover blood libels after all! No smoke without a fire!”

I guess you’ll be wanting the phone number of the regional head psychiatrist to have me committed.

Where are you for the Seder?
I always thought this was the strangest question, but in the week or so running up to Passover, everyone asks everyone else, even people we hardly know, even when we couldn’t really care less. Today, a possible reason for this tradition suddenly dawned on me: This is an excellent way to suss out those who have not been invited anywhere, those who have no one to do the Seder with. A faltering answer, an evasive flicker of the eyelid, and the perceptive inquirer can immediately take the initiative, “Listen, Moyshe's Great Aunt Shoshanna decided to go to her nephew on the other side at the last minute. So inconsiderate of her, since we've already made all this food. You'd be doing us a big favor by coming to us.” How simple.

The Seder is the one tradition nearly everyone partakes in, even the most painfully secular (I don’t personally know anyone who doesn’t). There are nice humanistic, PC, versions of the Haggada, for those who dislike the traditional version. The kibbutzim have been using them for decades (Hebrew link). We tried it one year, but missed the more paranoid everyone's-out-to-get-us version. Hey, they really are (this year it’s official), so why can’t we enjoy it once a year, and sing familiar old songs about it?

According to a poll in the newspaper, even most of the newish Russian immigrants hold a Seder, although most of them didn’t know what it was when they arrived, having had most of their Jewishness beaten out of them by the Commies. Another poll in the newspaper claims that an astounding 75% of Israelis refrain from eating non-kosher-for-Passover foods, during the seven-day holiday. Well, you don’t get much more secular than me, and even I cleared out the Chametz from my office today. And I’ve stocked up on Matza. Passover just isn’t the same with Pita from Jaffa.

So where am I for the Seder? Right here, along with fifteen family members. Somehow I refuse to be flustered. Am I in denial? Well, maybe a little, but mainly, brilliant hostess that I am, I have managed to delegate out most of the cooking. I’m left with the hard boiled eggs, the potatoes, some clear vegetable soup for Bish and me, because we don’t drink chicken soup, and we don’t want to be done out of R.T.’s delicious kneidelach, oh, and setting the table (no simple feat on Passover).

This year is a red-letter Seder. Bish is going to be running things. His first time as the head guy at the top of the table; the one who holds up the Matza (unleavened bread) and the Marror (bitter herbs) and says the brochas (blessings). I’m kvelling. Really. I never thought I’d live to see the day.

Afterthought: I know what you're thinking. You're thinking: She forgot washing the dishes and tidying up afterwards. Yes, I did. I am definitely in denial.

Ha Lachma Aniya

“This is the poor bread, which our forefathers ate in the land of Egypt. Any hungry stranger can come and eat. Anyone needy can come and have Passover with us. This year we are here, next year - in the land of Israel. This year we are slaves, next year - free people.”

From the Passover Haggada.

(My humble translation. Please forgive any inaccuracies, my Aramaic isn't so good. This is the only part of the Haggada that is in Aramaic and not in Hebrew, besides some of the songs at the end, if I am not mistaken)

My last post must have given the impression that everyone is hungry in Israel. This is not the case at all. It’s a big mitzvah to give to the poor in Passover, and it could be that a lot of the ultra-religious charities are going overboard.

I truly fear that the long queues are more a result of a breakdown of values than of real economic difficulties. Some people have no shame to stand in queue for a free box of matza and disposable nappies. I know a few people like that. They don’t care where it came from, as long as they get a piece of the action.

I get the feeling that an alert photographer would probably be able to snap a photo of the same little old Yemenite lady with the flowery headscarf in every queue he visits. One newsreel actually showed someone coming out of one of these food places with a parcel and loading it into the baggage compartment of his shiny new car, which was parked round the corner.

Yes, things are bad and people have to cut their expenses, as in any recession, but the malls and the markets are full, and everyone seems to have a cell phone, surely a luxury item. And as I said yesterday, hi-tech is reportedly picking up, and the foreign investors are coming back.

So are the tourists, apparently. A friend just came back from a few days in one of Eilat’s more expensive hotels, and said it was packed full of English and French speaking people. I asked him if they were Jewish. He said the French were, but that the English speaking seemed to be mainly, surprisingly enough, non-Jewish Brits.

I’m becoming increasingly nervous about the Passover food queues. They’re still showing them on the news and in the papers. Yediot Aharonot (Hebrew link) said that the people running these places say that thousands are continuing to show up and they are finding it difficult to keep order, not to mention that they were running out of stocks.

The paper says that some of the people in the queues were municipal workers who hadn’t been paid for months because of disagreements between their municipalities and the treasury (The treasury claims that these municipalities have squandered their funds and that they must become more efficient. I ask myself if the mayors of these municipalities, and their overpaid deputies in their fancy cars, have been doing without their salaries, these last few months).

The lady I know that runs a food project doesn’t have her people queue up like that in public. She certainly doesn’t have the press come and take pictures of the people she feeds. She prepares them parcels and brings them to their homes, with the help of a little army of volunteers. She gets the names from Welfare. I think that’s so much more humane. Dad also does “Meals on Wheels”, twice a week, bringing food to people right to their homes.

But a lot of people don’t like to go to Welfare, because you have the authorities sniffing around you all the time, trying to take your kids away or force you into a nasty home for poor old people, or something.

I rang up the food project lady to ask her what she thinks about the food queues. She was resting after working so hard all week, preparing parcels and bringing them to the families. She was tired, but happy to have been able to help so many. She said people had been so kind, donating money, and volunteering to help.

She said she thought the food queues were shameful. She said that besides them being extremely embarrassing for the people who had to stand in them, she thought them a very inefficient way to give out food. She said the likelihood of the food not reaching those who really need it was very high.

There are a lot of people who have no problem to stand in a food line and get something for free, even if they don’t really need it, and even if it means taking food out of the mouths of the really hungry. On the other hand, the really destitute probably find it difficult to get to the distribution centers, and even more difficult to schlep the food home once they have it. She added that the really needy are often the ones who are the most embarrassed to be seen in public receiving charity, the ones most struggling to keep up appearances.

She went on to say that a lot of ordinary people from the neighborhood in which she operates her project approached her and her fellow volunteers at their little warehouse place, this week, to try and get some free food. They could see them preparing the parcels and they wanted some too. Not because they were hungry, but because it was there and for free. She sent them all round to the local municipal welfare office. She said that when you have only so much to go round, you prefer giving it to people who have been vetted.

She said that the local municipality gave out more modest parcels to people who usually manage to get by, but were finding the holiday difficult to fund.

She described the parcels they gave out this year, all carefully measured and planned so as to last the families through the holidays. A family on her list is very lucky indeed! It took two men to lift many of the parcels, and each family got a crate of fruit and vegetables, as well. That’s so heartwarming.

Much as I am sorry for the people in the food queues they're showing on the news, I can't help feeling I am being emotionally manipulated. I know there are people in real difficulties, more than ever, but I don't know if they are the people in those queues. They always manage to stick some sly remark about Treasury Minister Bibi Netanyahu and his economic program into the article, or on to a corner of the same page of the newspaper. This is suspect in my mind.

There is good news, and that is that Israeli hi-tech is picking up at last. It had it on the news (can’t find an English link), and R.T., who works in hi-tech, also mentioned it. Maybe next year in Jerusalem, there will be less food queues and not more.

Shabbat Shalom