Living in this country can be like standing too close to a pub-brawl. You can be unwittingly dragged into the fight and involved in the politics of hate, even as an outsider. And I've begun to suspect that hatred is more catching than love. But living here, at least, can make you aware of that.
The Israeli elections have happened, and although the right-wing Netanyahu government is still in charge - many say on the basis of security and the economy - there are scores of Israelis who are disappointed with the result.
The language and behaviour of hate continues in response. Israeli author and journalist Yehonatan Geffen wrote on his Facebook page: "...The most important thing that needs to be said after the election results to all those who chose the ballot for Bibi: Don’t cry when your children die in the next military campaign...You again elected the leader who promises us death and not life, fear and not hope. But despite the disappointment and hopelessness – we cannot give up, cry or complain. Few as we are, we must continue to battle and protest against the regime of fear and hatred and unite for love and peace.”
Last Friday, Geffen was beaten at the door of his home by a man who called him a 'leftist traitor'.
Language is a enough of a touch paper in this land. The pub brawl is lifted to the level of social media, and back down to be continued at the threshold of someone's home.
But there's nothing like an election to make you ask: 'Who are these people?' Discluding Palestinians who don't vote in Israeli elections, you look behind the blue star of the Israeli flag and you see it's as multifaceted as a checkerboard-cut topaz. Look at all these for instance - from the Haaretz newspaper polling a few days before the election:
Incredible, really, that it calls itself a country at all.
But it's springtime, which in this brittle land, softens everything. The hills around us whisper with grasses and wild flowers swaying in the March winds. The lunar landscape towards the Dead Sea has metamorphosed into grazing ground for the Bedouin communities' flocks of sheep and goats, staggering about the hillsides with swollen stomachs.
It's a perfect season to visit. My cousin Alexandra and her family have just been staying. The small fry of the household multiplied from 2 to 5. As I said to St Grace, as she unglued cheese coated pasta bows from the kitchen floor, 'If we can manage with 5, then we'll be fine with 3'. She laughed. She's the youngest of 11 children so nothing phases her.
At around 6.30 one morning, I was lying in bed reading, when Rashimi cruised in with Betsy, the oldest of the five smalls. He gave her a tour of my dressing table and asked: 'And do you know who thith man is?' holding my dancing Buddha statue that my friend Sophie gave me, in his hand. The little Buddha is carved from black stone, has a broad smile on his face and his arms raised above his head in a flamenco-esque pose. 'Well, this man is saying: 'HOOWAY for LIFE!'' Rashimi explained.
Rashimi's observation was echoed in the beaming face of the Israeli obstetrician J and I visited this week to get a 3D introduction to our baby-to-be. She works in the Wolfson family medicine centre, sandwiched between the 'Flatter Boutique - 'Irreverently Modest' and the 'Head Lice treatment. She must be in her 60s, and in her surgery, you can hardly move for baby photographs held by yarmulka-wearing, grinning Dads and exhausted but ecstatic Mums. As she pointed out the two directions of blood in the baby's heart, the lobes of the brain and all the other mind boggling miracles contained in a 20cm form, I asked her: 'I wonder how many of these you've seen?'
'Of course I can't count' she replied, 'but I can tell you that each one is as exciting as the last.' Then we said goodbye as she prepared her bag to go and conduct an emergency C-section on a 43 year old woman, pregnant with twins. 'These will be her only babies. These are very important babies!' She laughed.
One of J's colleagues married a beautiful Israeli girl last week. She's as petite as Mrs Pepperpot, though was an M16 assault-rifle instructor in the Israeli defence force during her military service, which is compulsory for Israeli women, for 18 months, and men for 3 years. Her family is secular, and the bride has moved from her military experience to a career in homeopathy. She's liberal-minded and sweet natured.
The couple had a symbolic service with a little canopy over their heads, a sip from the same glass and a smash of it under their feet. We danced to a silent disco with huge white headphones over our ears after 11pm so as not to disturb the neighbours in the residential district of Florentine in Tel Aviv. It could have been Rio or San Francisco. Her Mum didn't look far off my age, I thought, as we skipped about to a Hebrew folk tune. One other Brit had a bit to drink and decided to take on some of the Israeli guests about the topic of Gaza.
But it was a true celebration of life.
Like separating the skin from the inside of an eggshell, babies and weddings are always good methods of peeling apart the soul of a place from its politics. And when you're in that core, you feel very, very far from hatred.
I met up with the leader of Yemenite community in Israel this week for a story I'm researching. Jewish civilization has thrived in Yemen for over 2000 years, but is increasingly under threat. Israel is one of the most popular destinations for members of its beleaguered tribes who are increasingly at risk from sectarian violence there. I was expecting to meet someone more traditional looking, but Yigal was born here, so was dressed in jeans and shirt, with no skull cap. His father arrived from Yemen when he was 7 years old and passed on his role to Yigal, who represents the Yemenites here, and is closely in touch with the 40 families still remaining in Yemen. They don't want to leave their ancient heritage, but it could be that they'll be forced to leave in the near future. He seemed happy to talk and laughingly admitted: 'I'm not into politics anymore. It's a snake pit. I have 5 children, 9 grandchildren. For me now, it's all about Life. And this for me, is Life.'
The longer you live here, the more you see of the strengths within the fractured state and not just the polarised version you see from the outside. It's a state built on fear, perhaps. But also a state that should be able to emerge from the love of life. As J pointed out the other day: 'When you look at love of children, love of eating and love of life, there's no difference between a Palestinian and an Israeli.'
And for the future of Israel, hope is at the centre of both the left and right of the electorate. The left puts its hopes in diplomacy which will strengthen relationships with neighbouring countries; while the right puts its hopes in a beefy, robust leadership that can defend itself against its multiple enemies, who are also its neighbours.
Could we dare to hope that these hopes may unite, one day?
Another thing that got me thinking is a piece I read in Haaretz newspaper about the Israeli singer, Asaf Avidan, who said that he didn't consider himself Israeli and that collective fear was the only thing holding the country together, claiming that he considers himself not an 'Israeli artist', but an 'artist from Israel'.
He said: 'I don't show up to represent Israel. I'm not a politician. I'm not a diplomat.'
Once again, we need to peel off politics from some rosier parts of Israel, to see a future. This is particularly important in the case of art.
There's a movement called BDS which began in 2005 when Palestinian civil society issued a call for a campaign of boycotts, divestment and sanctions (BDS) against Israel until it complies with international law and Palestinian rights.
It's a great idea and we are some of many internationals who try to avoid buying wine and other products coming from Israeli settlements. And it has become globally very popular meaning that at least 2 Israeli dance troupes, or should I say, dance troupes from Israel, have been boycotted from trying to perform internationally in the past few years.
I've always thought BDS was an important way to have some impact on Israeli apartheid, but many critics note that while the BDS movement is having very limited impact on the Israeli economy, Palestinians are being hit harder. Israeli companies employ more than 100,000 Palestinians in the West Bank, many of whom earn as much as five times as much as they would locally.
Living here, if you manage to step a little back from the brawl, you see so much that is about a possible future and about a Good Life in a fractured land.
Blanket hatred or boycott, like some kind of political antibiotic, means that as you kill the harmful bacteria, you can inadvertently kill off the useful antibodies which might one day cure the state from the inside.
In other words. Let's not throw the baby out with the bathwater.
This is a very important baby, too.
The Israeli elections have happened, and although the right-wing Netanyahu government is still in charge - many say on the basis of security and the economy - there are scores of Israelis who are disappointed with the result.
The language and behaviour of hate continues in response. Israeli author and journalist Yehonatan Geffen wrote on his Facebook page: "...The most important thing that needs to be said after the election results to all those who chose the ballot for Bibi: Don’t cry when your children die in the next military campaign...You again elected the leader who promises us death and not life, fear and not hope. But despite the disappointment and hopelessness – we cannot give up, cry or complain. Few as we are, we must continue to battle and protest against the regime of fear and hatred and unite for love and peace.”
Last Friday, Geffen was beaten at the door of his home by a man who called him a 'leftist traitor'.
Language is a enough of a touch paper in this land. The pub brawl is lifted to the level of social media, and back down to be continued at the threshold of someone's home.
But there's nothing like an election to make you ask: 'Who are these people?' Discluding Palestinians who don't vote in Israeli elections, you look behind the blue star of the Israeli flag and you see it's as multifaceted as a checkerboard-cut topaz. Look at all these for instance - from the Haaretz newspaper polling a few days before the election:
Incredible, really, that it calls itself a country at all.
But it's springtime, which in this brittle land, softens everything. The hills around us whisper with grasses and wild flowers swaying in the March winds. The lunar landscape towards the Dead Sea has metamorphosed into grazing ground for the Bedouin communities' flocks of sheep and goats, staggering about the hillsides with swollen stomachs.
It's a perfect season to visit. My cousin Alexandra and her family have just been staying. The small fry of the household multiplied from 2 to 5. As I said to St Grace, as she unglued cheese coated pasta bows from the kitchen floor, 'If we can manage with 5, then we'll be fine with 3'. She laughed. She's the youngest of 11 children so nothing phases her.
At around 6.30 one morning, I was lying in bed reading, when Rashimi cruised in with Betsy, the oldest of the five smalls. He gave her a tour of my dressing table and asked: 'And do you know who thith man is?' holding my dancing Buddha statue that my friend Sophie gave me, in his hand. The little Buddha is carved from black stone, has a broad smile on his face and his arms raised above his head in a flamenco-esque pose. 'Well, this man is saying: 'HOOWAY for LIFE!'' Rashimi explained.
Rashimi's observation was echoed in the beaming face of the Israeli obstetrician J and I visited this week to get a 3D introduction to our baby-to-be. She works in the Wolfson family medicine centre, sandwiched between the 'Flatter Boutique - 'Irreverently Modest' and the 'Head Lice treatment. She must be in her 60s, and in her surgery, you can hardly move for baby photographs held by yarmulka-wearing, grinning Dads and exhausted but ecstatic Mums. As she pointed out the two directions of blood in the baby's heart, the lobes of the brain and all the other mind boggling miracles contained in a 20cm form, I asked her: 'I wonder how many of these you've seen?'
'Of course I can't count' she replied, 'but I can tell you that each one is as exciting as the last.' Then we said goodbye as she prepared her bag to go and conduct an emergency C-section on a 43 year old woman, pregnant with twins. 'These will be her only babies. These are very important babies!' She laughed.
One of J's colleagues married a beautiful Israeli girl last week. She's as petite as Mrs Pepperpot, though was an M16 assault-rifle instructor in the Israeli defence force during her military service, which is compulsory for Israeli women, for 18 months, and men for 3 years. Her family is secular, and the bride has moved from her military experience to a career in homeopathy. She's liberal-minded and sweet natured.
The couple had a symbolic service with a little canopy over their heads, a sip from the same glass and a smash of it under their feet. We danced to a silent disco with huge white headphones over our ears after 11pm so as not to disturb the neighbours in the residential district of Florentine in Tel Aviv. It could have been Rio or San Francisco. Her Mum didn't look far off my age, I thought, as we skipped about to a Hebrew folk tune. One other Brit had a bit to drink and decided to take on some of the Israeli guests about the topic of Gaza.
But it was a true celebration of life.
Like separating the skin from the inside of an eggshell, babies and weddings are always good methods of peeling apart the soul of a place from its politics. And when you're in that core, you feel very, very far from hatred.
I met up with the leader of Yemenite community in Israel this week for a story I'm researching. Jewish civilization has thrived in Yemen for over 2000 years, but is increasingly under threat. Israel is one of the most popular destinations for members of its beleaguered tribes who are increasingly at risk from sectarian violence there. I was expecting to meet someone more traditional looking, but Yigal was born here, so was dressed in jeans and shirt, with no skull cap. His father arrived from Yemen when he was 7 years old and passed on his role to Yigal, who represents the Yemenites here, and is closely in touch with the 40 families still remaining in Yemen. They don't want to leave their ancient heritage, but it could be that they'll be forced to leave in the near future. He seemed happy to talk and laughingly admitted: 'I'm not into politics anymore. It's a snake pit. I have 5 children, 9 grandchildren. For me now, it's all about Life. And this for me, is Life.'
The longer you live here, the more you see of the strengths within the fractured state and not just the polarised version you see from the outside. It's a state built on fear, perhaps. But also a state that should be able to emerge from the love of life. As J pointed out the other day: 'When you look at love of children, love of eating and love of life, there's no difference between a Palestinian and an Israeli.'
And for the future of Israel, hope is at the centre of both the left and right of the electorate. The left puts its hopes in diplomacy which will strengthen relationships with neighbouring countries; while the right puts its hopes in a beefy, robust leadership that can defend itself against its multiple enemies, who are also its neighbours.
Could we dare to hope that these hopes may unite, one day?
Another thing that got me thinking is a piece I read in Haaretz newspaper about the Israeli singer, Asaf Avidan, who said that he didn't consider himself Israeli and that collective fear was the only thing holding the country together, claiming that he considers himself not an 'Israeli artist', but an 'artist from Israel'.
He said: 'I don't show up to represent Israel. I'm not a politician. I'm not a diplomat.'
Once again, we need to peel off politics from some rosier parts of Israel, to see a future. This is particularly important in the case of art.
There's a movement called BDS which began in 2005 when Palestinian civil society issued a call for a campaign of boycotts, divestment and sanctions (BDS) against Israel until it complies with international law and Palestinian rights.
It's a great idea and we are some of many internationals who try to avoid buying wine and other products coming from Israeli settlements. And it has become globally very popular meaning that at least 2 Israeli dance troupes, or should I say, dance troupes from Israel, have been boycotted from trying to perform internationally in the past few years.
I've always thought BDS was an important way to have some impact on Israeli apartheid, but many critics note that while the BDS movement is having very limited impact on the Israeli economy, Palestinians are being hit harder. Israeli companies employ more than 100,000 Palestinians in the West Bank, many of whom earn as much as five times as much as they would locally.
Living here, if you manage to step a little back from the brawl, you see so much that is about a possible future and about a Good Life in a fractured land.
Blanket hatred or boycott, like some kind of political antibiotic, means that as you kill the harmful bacteria, you can inadvertently kill off the useful antibodies which might one day cure the state from the inside.
In other words. Let's not throw the baby out with the bathwater.
This is a very important baby, too.
Needed to read this with so many charges in the air at the moment. and huge congratulations from Lyme Terrace, where typing this my fingers are the tiniest bit white at the end as its decided to go back to Winter outside. But we have hope...
ReplyDeletetake care
x SJ
"Let's not throw the baby out with the bathwater"
ReplyDeleteI hope that that means that you finally realized that Israel has a right to exist.
An interesting trivia item that you might be ignorant of: Yonatan Gefen is the nephew of Moshe Dayan - Israel's defense minister in the 6 days war in 1967 - the war in which Israel conquered east Jerusalem and the west bank after being threatened of being eliminated by the Arabs who kept on attacking it despite the fact that they HAD full control of the "occupied" territories of todays - east Jerusalem and the west bank.
In the Haaretz article where Asaf Avidan is interviewed, several other Israeli artists are being interviewed as well, most are known leftists, others I assume are leftists too - Asaf Avidan is the ONLY artist in this article who says that he doesn't consider himself an Israeli and has a problem being identified as such. It is a pity that you constantly choose to pick on the negative aspects of Israel. In this case portraying a false impression as if leftist Israeli artists have such a problem with the state of Israel that they refuse to even be identified as Israelis.
The "Palestinians" are actually NOT excluded from the Israeli elections. a FIFTH of the Israeli population is Arab (and openly identifies itself as "Palestinian") with full Israeli rights and the THIRD biggest party elected in these latest elections - "the joint party" is, as I'm sure you know well, a joint party of 4 (or is it 3?) ARAB parties which ran together as one party and got 13 seats in the Israeli parliment.
"incredible, really, that it (Israeli) calls itself a country at all."
What's your problem? You worry that our country Israel might disintegrate because of its diversity? It's touching to see your concern.
Just for the record, the Israeli society used to be much more homogeneous than it is today. With the high birthrate of the Arab and ultra-orthodox Jewish populations, it IS much more diverse today.
But we still hold on and hopefully will continue to do so for many more years. After all, who but us will take care of the Yemenite Jews now in danger, or the French Jews who have to hide their star of David necklace when they go out to the streets of Paris. Somehow I have a feeling YOUR country wouldn't stay in line to give them shelter and save their lives. It never did so for any persecuted Jews anytime in history, as didn't other "noble" and "humane" countries whose citizens are big on supporting the BDS movement.