AP writes,
U.S. Forest Service officers were hit, elbowed and pelted with a rock when they tried to arrest unruly campers at a gathering of the Rainbow Family, a free-spirited, loosely affiliated band of hippies, officials said.
The confrontation Monday night was one of at least three clashes between officers and campers as thousands of the Rainbow Family gather for a weeklong outing, which officially begins Saturday. None of the injuries was serious, Forest Service spokeswoman Kimberly Vogel said Thursday.
About 5,000 members of the group, which promotes non-violence and harmony with nature, have arrived at the campsite in the Routt National Forest about 50 kilometers north of Steamboat Springs in defiance of the Forest Service, which has refused to grant the group a permit, citing the fire danger.
About 200 campers surrounded 15 officers and became verbally abusive Monday night, Vogel said. As the officers tried to arrest some campers, the crowd surged forward, striking at least three officers and pulling the suspects free, Vogel said.
Campers piled on top of one suspect, blocking officers from making an arrest. One male officer was injured when someone dived at his knees, a second suffered bruises when a rock was thrown at his leg and a female officer was elbowed in the knee and face, she said.
Officers arrested one suspect, drew their batons and used pepper spray as they backed away, Vogel said.
In the previous two clashes, campers surrounded and intimidated Forest Service officers, she said.
Campers are spread out in 20 square kilometers of meadow and forest where up to 60 percent of the trees have been killed by a beetle infestation and are vulnerable to fire, officials said. Forestry officials worry that in a fire, the narrow dirt access road would become clogged and campers would be trapped.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Monday, June 19, 2006
Mystery # 3 solved
For months, my 60-year-old pyromaniac neighbor used to light a match, toss it into the public garbage bin, and watch the flames. He did this almost every day. He would sit on a chair on the corner when the cops came by, talk to the firefighters, and watch. He wasn't trying to hurt anybody, he said, he just wanted to see how people reacted.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
the right to be cloned
A few weeks ago, Rabin-assassin Yigal Amir was caught on tape attempting to smuggle his seed from prison to his controversially betrothed, and continued to blast the Shin Bet for fabricating the report until he was sat down and shown the video himself.
Amir's smuggling attempt breached a High Court injunction prohibiting him from using in-vitro fertilization to impregnate his wife. Israel Prison Service had approved them for the procedure in March, but the court halted the proceedings after two former members of knesset petitioned to deny Amir the right to bear children.
In repayment, the High Court on Monday rejected their petition, and said although Amir "was and still is one of the most denounced criminals in Israeli national consciousness of recent generations, if not the most denounced of all," he nevertheless "has, as any other prisoner, basic human rights, from which he was not stripped upon entering the prison."
In a "proper constitutional regime," said the justices, "the human rights umbrella protects a person insofar as he is a person, including an imprisoned criminal."
The court ruled that "the considerations seeking to worsen the conditions of his imprisonment because of the severity of his crime, or to limit his human rights in revenge for his deeds, are not relevant and therefore invalid."
When would it be considered relevant and valid to limit a prisoner's human rights as punishment for the severity of his or her crime or deeds?
In legal systems that employ capital punishment, the convicted is denied the basic human right to survive. Thirty-eight out of 50 of the United States employ capital punishment. Israel, technically, does not have a death penalty, except in certain cases of war crimes or treason. It used it once, executing Adolph Eichmann for war crimes committed not geographically in Israel, but against members of the Jewish nation. The United States has a constitution of rights. Israel, technically, does not.
Yigal Amir used murder to fight a national process for peace and security. Israel condones the death penalty in certain cases of treason and war crimes. Amir struck a direct blow to Israel's security but was sentenced to multiple lives in prison, not capital punishment. He was guaranteed the human right to survive. Now he has been guaranteed the human right to procreate,
In a legal world of pick and choose, under which universal umbrella of human rights are these rights protected?
(High Court quotes from Haaretz)
Amir's smuggling attempt breached a High Court injunction prohibiting him from using in-vitro fertilization to impregnate his wife. Israel Prison Service had approved them for the procedure in March, but the court halted the proceedings after two former members of knesset petitioned to deny Amir the right to bear children.
In repayment, the High Court on Monday rejected their petition, and said although Amir "was and still is one of the most denounced criminals in Israeli national consciousness of recent generations, if not the most denounced of all," he nevertheless "has, as any other prisoner, basic human rights, from which he was not stripped upon entering the prison."
In a "proper constitutional regime," said the justices, "the human rights umbrella protects a person insofar as he is a person, including an imprisoned criminal."
The court ruled that "the considerations seeking to worsen the conditions of his imprisonment because of the severity of his crime, or to limit his human rights in revenge for his deeds, are not relevant and therefore invalid."
When would it be considered relevant and valid to limit a prisoner's human rights as punishment for the severity of his or her crime or deeds?
In legal systems that employ capital punishment, the convicted is denied the basic human right to survive. Thirty-eight out of 50 of the United States employ capital punishment. Israel, technically, does not have a death penalty, except in certain cases of war crimes or treason. It used it once, executing Adolph Eichmann for war crimes committed not geographically in Israel, but against members of the Jewish nation. The United States has a constitution of rights. Israel, technically, does not.
Yigal Amir used murder to fight a national process for peace and security. Israel condones the death penalty in certain cases of treason and war crimes. Amir struck a direct blow to Israel's security but was sentenced to multiple lives in prison, not capital punishment. He was guaranteed the human right to survive. Now he has been guaranteed the human right to procreate,
In a legal world of pick and choose, under which universal umbrella of human rights are these rights protected?
(High Court quotes from Haaretz)
Thursday, June 08, 2006
cafe hafuch
Haaretz writes,
The Musawa Center for Arab Rights in Israel on Wednesday submitted a complaint to the Trade and Labor Ministry charging that the Arcaffe chain discriminates against Arabs in its hiring policies.
Some 50 protesters also demonstrated Wednesday evening outside a Tel Aviv branch of the cafe.
A recent Army Radio investigation found that Nazareth student Wasim Kanaza was refused employment at three separate Arcaffe branches while reporter David Glick was hired using a resume similar to Kanaza's.
Musawa receives numerous complaints of employers discriminating against Arabs, but in most cases it is difficult for the group to prove that systemic discrimination or racism is involved.
The line between systemic discrimination and security is choking. There is no lack of justification for clear violations of civil rights. Historical precedent and fears have superceded human right and decency.
The reactions that come to mind, and their equally weighted justifications, are confounding. From indignation at this blatant national discrimination, an institution basing its hiring policies on ethnic favoritism and elitism, comes a clear understanding of proponent justification.
Fear is the justification. Inexcusable discrimination for a cause. It's a security measure, drawing flashbacks of numerous inside employees or acquaintances helping or architecting an attack.
Arcaffe denies that its hiring policies are based on race, creed, sexality, religion or anything other than ability.
Israelis don't like to call themselves discriminatory, though Israel's critics would say otherwise. Does that make me a critic of Israel? Israelis live in a world measured by our nation's relationship to others. There's the original divine appointment of Jews as chosen people, and there is the modern permeation of Israeli Jews feeling different from, if not superior to, the Arabs living here both as citizens and as outlaws.
This cultural relativism is duly based on Israelis' recognition of Israel's unofficial and unconstitutional designation of its Arab sector as second-class, and on the inherent fear of a people under threat of attack whose neighbors are related to their oppressors. Both Palestinians and Israelis claim to be on the defensive, and it is the middle-man who bears the brunt.
Israeli Arabs are citizens with equal rights who have been served a rotten meal on a silver platter. They took on citizenship instead of refugee camps and were told that, according to democracy, they could freely practice their own religions and speak their own language.
They were given the right to run their own municipal authorities and run for a seat in federal parliament. They were given the right to control their own schools and facilities, and pay taxes and receive social benefits.
They were not given the right, at least in recent years, to see their families who chose differently. They were not given a high spot on the Knesset's lists of priorities. They were not given the right to feel like a desired part of Israeli nationalism.
Arab politicians cannot oppose Israel's national self-designation as Zionist and with a Jewish majority. They cannot identify with the Palestinian cause. There are legal repercussions for breaking this rule, like eviction from politics, detainment, and interrogation, and illegal repercussion such as threats from people like MK Avigdor Lieberman who calls for the execution of any Arabs MK who support Palestinians.
Arabs who live in the state of Israel agree to observe a status quo whereby they respect Israel's national character and abide by the laws as any other citizen, and in return they are granted full rights as citizens of a developed, western nation. Israeli Arabs who collaborate with Palestinians or amongst themselves to attack Israel break their end of the deal. Israeli Jews and governments who unofficially and unconstitutionally demote Arabs to second-class citizens break theirs.
The average Israeli Arab, like the average Israeli Jew and the average Palestinian, is a person trying to live his or her life with joy, comfort and a sense of achievement. Israeli Arabs took a much better deal than Palestinians, in that they are able to live as free citizens. In return, they are forced to live as second-class citizens under a state which wasn't their first choice and is now their rightful home.
The Musawa Center for Arab Rights in Israel on Wednesday submitted a complaint to the Trade and Labor Ministry charging that the Arcaffe chain discriminates against Arabs in its hiring policies.
Some 50 protesters also demonstrated Wednesday evening outside a Tel Aviv branch of the cafe.
A recent Army Radio investigation found that Nazareth student Wasim Kanaza was refused employment at three separate Arcaffe branches while reporter David Glick was hired using a resume similar to Kanaza's.
Musawa receives numerous complaints of employers discriminating against Arabs, but in most cases it is difficult for the group to prove that systemic discrimination or racism is involved.
The line between systemic discrimination and security is choking. There is no lack of justification for clear violations of civil rights. Historical precedent and fears have superceded human right and decency.
The reactions that come to mind, and their equally weighted justifications, are confounding. From indignation at this blatant national discrimination, an institution basing its hiring policies on ethnic favoritism and elitism, comes a clear understanding of proponent justification.
Fear is the justification. Inexcusable discrimination for a cause. It's a security measure, drawing flashbacks of numerous inside employees or acquaintances helping or architecting an attack.
Arcaffe denies that its hiring policies are based on race, creed, sexality, religion or anything other than ability.
Israelis don't like to call themselves discriminatory, though Israel's critics would say otherwise. Does that make me a critic of Israel? Israelis live in a world measured by our nation's relationship to others. There's the original divine appointment of Jews as chosen people, and there is the modern permeation of Israeli Jews feeling different from, if not superior to, the Arabs living here both as citizens and as outlaws.
This cultural relativism is duly based on Israelis' recognition of Israel's unofficial and unconstitutional designation of its Arab sector as second-class, and on the inherent fear of a people under threat of attack whose neighbors are related to their oppressors. Both Palestinians and Israelis claim to be on the defensive, and it is the middle-man who bears the brunt.
Israeli Arabs are citizens with equal rights who have been served a rotten meal on a silver platter. They took on citizenship instead of refugee camps and were told that, according to democracy, they could freely practice their own religions and speak their own language.
They were given the right to run their own municipal authorities and run for a seat in federal parliament. They were given the right to control their own schools and facilities, and pay taxes and receive social benefits.
They were not given the right, at least in recent years, to see their families who chose differently. They were not given a high spot on the Knesset's lists of priorities. They were not given the right to feel like a desired part of Israeli nationalism.
Arab politicians cannot oppose Israel's national self-designation as Zionist and with a Jewish majority. They cannot identify with the Palestinian cause. There are legal repercussions for breaking this rule, like eviction from politics, detainment, and interrogation, and illegal repercussion such as threats from people like MK Avigdor Lieberman who calls for the execution of any Arabs MK who support Palestinians.
Arabs who live in the state of Israel agree to observe a status quo whereby they respect Israel's national character and abide by the laws as any other citizen, and in return they are granted full rights as citizens of a developed, western nation. Israeli Arabs who collaborate with Palestinians or amongst themselves to attack Israel break their end of the deal. Israeli Jews and governments who unofficially and unconstitutionally demote Arabs to second-class citizens break theirs.
The average Israeli Arab, like the average Israeli Jew and the average Palestinian, is a person trying to live his or her life with joy, comfort and a sense of achievement. Israeli Arabs took a much better deal than Palestinians, in that they are able to live as free citizens. In return, they are forced to live as second-class citizens under a state which wasn't their first choice and is now their rightful home.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
when kosher pigs fly...
There's either revolution or national suicide brewing in the Palestinian Authority. In the midst of an ensuing humanitarian crisis stemming from lack of aid and an only recent promise by Palestinian banks to pay government workers their long-delayed salaries, as a war of identity and land claims with Israel rages and a civil war between Fatah and Hamas escalates, Mahmoud Abbas has decided to show who's boss. He delivered an ultimatum to Hamas a few weeks ago, telling the ruling party either to accept a plan drafted by imprisoned Fatah men calling for a Palestinian state based on 1967 borders, or get ready for a national referendum on the issue.
Hamas refused. Abbas told them they had until midnight June 5 to make their choice. Hamas refused. Abbas held a 70-minute phone conversation with Haniyeh, and at the stroke of midnight, declared that talks had failed, and he was preparing within 48 hours to call a referendum. Hamas said it still wanted to talk.
A referendum is expected now for sometime in July. A useless referendum in practical terms that can achieve nothing but vainly demonstrate Palestinian opinion in a rigid Hamas system and flaunt worthless Fatah muscle. No matter the outcome, the Palestinian people cannot determine the borders of their own state without full agreement from Israel, or without the approval of the Hamas government.
It is a contradiction in democracy. Hamas won because the Palestinian people were fed up with Fatah's corruption, but their victory was further indicative of the general Palestinian desperation and approach to the conflict that rules their life. The Palestinian public voted for a party which holds as its mandate the destruction of Israel, the refusal to recognize Israel's right to exist. The Palestinian people are entitled, and encouraged, to exercise their voice and change their approach by voting for a state based on 1967 borders. But there is no way to ensure that the results of such a referendum could be implemented as long as Hamas remains in power and refuses to give up the mission statement which won it its mandate in the Palestinian parliament.
Hamas refused. Abbas told them they had until midnight June 5 to make their choice. Hamas refused. Abbas held a 70-minute phone conversation with Haniyeh, and at the stroke of midnight, declared that talks had failed, and he was preparing within 48 hours to call a referendum. Hamas said it still wanted to talk.
A referendum is expected now for sometime in July. A useless referendum in practical terms that can achieve nothing but vainly demonstrate Palestinian opinion in a rigid Hamas system and flaunt worthless Fatah muscle. No matter the outcome, the Palestinian people cannot determine the borders of their own state without full agreement from Israel, or without the approval of the Hamas government.
It is a contradiction in democracy. Hamas won because the Palestinian people were fed up with Fatah's corruption, but their victory was further indicative of the general Palestinian desperation and approach to the conflict that rules their life. The Palestinian public voted for a party which holds as its mandate the destruction of Israel, the refusal to recognize Israel's right to exist. The Palestinian people are entitled, and encouraged, to exercise their voice and change their approach by voting for a state based on 1967 borders. But there is no way to ensure that the results of such a referendum could be implemented as long as Hamas remains in power and refuses to give up the mission statement which won it its mandate in the Palestinian parliament.
ah, personal freedom
The Associated Press writes,
The American Civil Liberties Union sued the state of Alaska Monday over a new law penalizing marijuana possession for personal use in the home.
The civil liberties group alleges the new law is an unconstitutional invasion of privacy.
"Is marijuana so dangerous that it justifies restricting a fundamental right? The state thinks it's yes, we think it's no," said Michael Macleod-Ball, executive director of the ACLU of Alaska.
The lawsuit also claims the law allows prosecution of people who use marijuana for medical purposes, which the Alaska Department of Law disputes.
Along with the lawsuit, the ACLU is asking a Juneau Superior Court judge to block the law. Macleod-Ball said a judge set a Thursday hearing on a temporary restraining order.
The law, which was signed by Gov. Frank Murkowski on Friday, is an attempt to reverse a 30-year-old Alaska Supreme Court decision in which the court ruled the privacy rights of Alaskans trumped the harm the drug could cause.
Later court decisions set a legal limit of 4 ounces (113 grams) that an individual can keep in the home.
Murkowski for the past two years has been pushing through a bill to counter that ruling, understanding that the final decision would be up to the courts.
Under the new law, pot possession of 4 ounces (113 grams) or more is a felony, with possession of amounts less than that is a misdemeanor punishable by up to a year in jail.
"The issue of marijuana appears destined to be resolved by the courts," said Department of Law spokesman Mark Morones. "Now that there's some science behind it, we know a lot more about it now and its potency now than when the Ravin decision was decided."
Gearing up for the court fight, Murkowski and the Legislature included in the bill a set of findings meant to prove that marijuana has increased in potency since the original Supreme Court decision, and therefore has become more dangerous.
Joining the ACLU as a plaintiff is an anonymous 54-year-old woman referred to as Jane Doe who uses marijuana to treat pain caused by a neurological illness called reflex sympathetic dystrophy, according to the lawsuit.
She and another plaintiff, a 42-year-old woman referred to as Jane Roe, will not list their real names because they fear criminal prosecution under the new law, the lawsuit says.
Jane Doe and the ACLU claim there is no exception under the new law for medical marijuana patients. Morones said medical marijuana users are protected under the new law and will not be affected.
The American Civil Liberties Union sued the state of Alaska Monday over a new law penalizing marijuana possession for personal use in the home.
The civil liberties group alleges the new law is an unconstitutional invasion of privacy.
"Is marijuana so dangerous that it justifies restricting a fundamental right? The state thinks it's yes, we think it's no," said Michael Macleod-Ball, executive director of the ACLU of Alaska.
The lawsuit also claims the law allows prosecution of people who use marijuana for medical purposes, which the Alaska Department of Law disputes.
Along with the lawsuit, the ACLU is asking a Juneau Superior Court judge to block the law. Macleod-Ball said a judge set a Thursday hearing on a temporary restraining order.
The law, which was signed by Gov. Frank Murkowski on Friday, is an attempt to reverse a 30-year-old Alaska Supreme Court decision in which the court ruled the privacy rights of Alaskans trumped the harm the drug could cause.
Later court decisions set a legal limit of 4 ounces (113 grams) that an individual can keep in the home.
Murkowski for the past two years has been pushing through a bill to counter that ruling, understanding that the final decision would be up to the courts.
Under the new law, pot possession of 4 ounces (113 grams) or more is a felony, with possession of amounts less than that is a misdemeanor punishable by up to a year in jail.
"The issue of marijuana appears destined to be resolved by the courts," said Department of Law spokesman Mark Morones. "Now that there's some science behind it, we know a lot more about it now and its potency now than when the Ravin decision was decided."
Gearing up for the court fight, Murkowski and the Legislature included in the bill a set of findings meant to prove that marijuana has increased in potency since the original Supreme Court decision, and therefore has become more dangerous.
Joining the ACLU as a plaintiff is an anonymous 54-year-old woman referred to as Jane Doe who uses marijuana to treat pain caused by a neurological illness called reflex sympathetic dystrophy, according to the lawsuit.
She and another plaintiff, a 42-year-old woman referred to as Jane Roe, will not list their real names because they fear criminal prosecution under the new law, the lawsuit says.
Jane Doe and the ACLU claim there is no exception under the new law for medical marijuana patients. Morones said medical marijuana users are protected under the new law and will not be affected.
Monday, May 29, 2006
balancing in sweet purgatory
I walked into the bunker of death two days after I went to heaven.
Shoshana and Micha are the caretakers of heaven, and there's no place like it on earth. They have a harp store, which used to be in the same hidden narrow alley as my aunt and uncle's jewlery shop in Jerusalem, and is now at the bottom of the hill where they live. The house is set low into the hill, the front gate lush green trees hiding stone staircase leading down to the wooden cabin, down further to homemade sauna and swimming hole, garden. My friends like to go there to work in the garden during the day and completely unwind at night. This time, I only went there for the unwinding part.
It was another insane week at work, like these weeks are, and I had three days off to be free. I woke up the first morning of freedom with a really deep cough, but went to Jerusalem anyway. Some friends and I had talked about going up to Shoshana and Micha's the week before, and then forgotten, but somehow after I decided to go anyway, I found out five more of my friends had the same idea.
We got there late, and the women went down right away, armed with water bottles and towels. Shoshana was standing there, completely nude. 'Nice to meet you,' she said to some of us. She went off to get something, and the rest of us got naked and walked into the sweat.
It was a small wooden structure with a wood stove outside and a basket of coal inside, dark except for the candles, lit also by oil and sweat. The top bench was the hottest. I sat on top, dripping and breathing out my toxins. I tried to stay in as long as I could. I made it for about twenty minutes each time, four times. In between each, we ran out and jumped straight into the cold swimming hole. The contrast of heat and cold went so drastically to my head, my mind spinning out of control (otherwise sober) and I felt like I was walking on the moon. I went back in. Then back to the water. Back to the sauna. Back to the water. We were mermaids in space.
Micha and Shoshana have a great house, filled with art and instruments, good smells and herbs. We jammed on different drums, a sax, guitar and something resembling a wooden xylophone.
Shoshana told us about her dream, which she had ten years ago, in which she saw the dome of the rock burst into gold and blue petals, making way for the temple to grow directly from within it. In her dream, she was at the wailing wall with thousands of people praying intently, and when she looked up, she saw the shrine break into pieces and the temple push through. She tried to say something to those around her, but she couldn't find the words, she was in shock. She watched the whole transformation, alone. When it finished, everybody looked up, oblivious to the change that had taken place while they were praying.
I didn't actually walk into the bunker of death a couple day later, but stuck my head in for about thirty seconds before feeling completely swallowed by the smell of human waste emanating from inside.
It was Saturday, and we had just eaten lunch and cake and
decided to go for a walk in the hills around elisha's moshav a lovely beautiful place full of magic sienna was tired and cosmos had lots of energy we wandered and walked and when we got to the bunker elisha said it was from the 1948 war i said who's going in with me nobody would i took a deep breath stuck my head in and felt death wash over me it stunk of human i thought maybe from the people who use it as shelter now or maybe from the screams and rifles and war and death curse panging me now forever never couldn't be i decided must be the elements
Shoshana and Micha are the caretakers of heaven, and there's no place like it on earth. They have a harp store, which used to be in the same hidden narrow alley as my aunt and uncle's jewlery shop in Jerusalem, and is now at the bottom of the hill where they live. The house is set low into the hill, the front gate lush green trees hiding stone staircase leading down to the wooden cabin, down further to homemade sauna and swimming hole, garden. My friends like to go there to work in the garden during the day and completely unwind at night. This time, I only went there for the unwinding part.
It was another insane week at work, like these weeks are, and I had three days off to be free. I woke up the first morning of freedom with a really deep cough, but went to Jerusalem anyway. Some friends and I had talked about going up to Shoshana and Micha's the week before, and then forgotten, but somehow after I decided to go anyway, I found out five more of my friends had the same idea.
We got there late, and the women went down right away, armed with water bottles and towels. Shoshana was standing there, completely nude. 'Nice to meet you,' she said to some of us. She went off to get something, and the rest of us got naked and walked into the sweat.
It was a small wooden structure with a wood stove outside and a basket of coal inside, dark except for the candles, lit also by oil and sweat. The top bench was the hottest. I sat on top, dripping and breathing out my toxins. I tried to stay in as long as I could. I made it for about twenty minutes each time, four times. In between each, we ran out and jumped straight into the cold swimming hole. The contrast of heat and cold went so drastically to my head, my mind spinning out of control (otherwise sober) and I felt like I was walking on the moon. I went back in. Then back to the water. Back to the sauna. Back to the water. We were mermaids in space.
Micha and Shoshana have a great house, filled with art and instruments, good smells and herbs. We jammed on different drums, a sax, guitar and something resembling a wooden xylophone.
Shoshana told us about her dream, which she had ten years ago, in which she saw the dome of the rock burst into gold and blue petals, making way for the temple to grow directly from within it. In her dream, she was at the wailing wall with thousands of people praying intently, and when she looked up, she saw the shrine break into pieces and the temple push through. She tried to say something to those around her, but she couldn't find the words, she was in shock. She watched the whole transformation, alone. When it finished, everybody looked up, oblivious to the change that had taken place while they were praying.
I didn't actually walk into the bunker of death a couple day later, but stuck my head in for about thirty seconds before feeling completely swallowed by the smell of human waste emanating from inside.
It was Saturday, and we had just eaten lunch and cake and
decided to go for a walk in the hills around elisha's moshav a lovely beautiful place full of magic sienna was tired and cosmos had lots of energy we wandered and walked and when we got to the bunker elisha said it was from the 1948 war i said who's going in with me nobody would i took a deep breath stuck my head in and felt death wash over me it stunk of human i thought maybe from the people who use it as shelter now or maybe from the screams and rifles and war and death curse panging me now forever never couldn't be i decided must be the elements
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
pinning a spinning wheel
Olmert's speech to congress was nearly perfect. I was impressed. I had to stay late at work the night before to cover the press conference he held with Bush after their first meeting at the White House, so I was expecting a little more of the same.
He was nervous at Tuesday night's press conference. They both were. Bush slammed out another winning analysis when, following his statement on how conflicts can be resolved through negotiations on both sides, he thoughtfully looked up and drawled, "the only problem is that Hamas [pause] doesn't recognize Israel's right to exist."
Here were two of the strongest leaders in the world talking about peace, and negotiations, with Olmert even promising a state in 3 or 4 years, and not four hours earlier the House of Representatives ruled in a sweeping vote of 361 to 37 to choke as severely as possible any aid flow into the Palestinian territories, while in Europe, the rest of the western powers were working out a plan to funnel aid to the Palestinian people without feeding Hamas.
Olmert's address to congress was smooth. He had pizzaz. He said all the right things to appease all sides, and piss off all sides, and painted himself as Sharon's heir, the hardened Israeli prime minister who's seen it all, loves his people, and of course, is concerned about the plight of his neighbors.
To the same House of Representatives that voted to further limit aid to Palestinian, Olmert said, "the Palestinians will forever be our neighbors. They are an inseparable part of this land, as are we. Israel has not desired to rule over them, nor to oppress them. They, too, have a right for freedom and national aspirations."
Right for freedom and national aspirations. In a non-state with a crumbled infra-structure, constant in-fighting and near starvation in cramped refugee camps, obsessed with the idea of their national pride, their homeland, and their struggle. A struggle inherent to Israel's struggle, its freedom and national aspirations.
Like elections, it's impossible to take Olmert at his word. He is not the hardened Israeli general turned prime minister of the past. He is the former disappointing mayor of Jerusalem, the former deputy prime minister everybody held at arm's length. He is riding on the victory of a man who died at the prime of his career, a prime 180 degrees away from where he promised he would be during his own corrupt election campaigns.
A friend of mine on a three-week leadership program in Israel told me that the one thing he's gotten out of his trip is the realization that no solution is possible in this conflict. Interesting because when he asked me what I've gotten out of my work this year, the first thing that came to mind was the realization that a solution is completely possible. Despite all the variables, including the temperments of our leaders.
Abbas proposed, and Hamas rejected, an idea to pose a referendum to Palestinians on whether to accept a state based on the 1967 borders. It was a strange propasal and an obvious reaction from Hamas. Such a referendum is meaningless. A Palestinian referendum on the borders of its state would by nature be a referendum on the borders of Israel's state, and in this conflict, neither entity can unilaterally determine the borders of another state.
A solution is possible. Maybe a temporary solution, like the others, to tide us over a few years, or even decades, before the next war. But there won't be a solution as long as each side refuses to compromise. We've heard this before. If Palestinians will agree only to a state set at 1967 borders and Israel will agree only to withdrawal as long as it does not require retreating to exact 1967 borders, then the current situation will persist. In the meantime, Israel's promise to withdraw becomes more generous by the offer, and the Palestinian vow not to recognize Israel becomes weaker by its offers. In the next five years there will be a Palestinian state, but the solution can be furthered only if Israel agrees simultaneously to set its borders.
He was nervous at Tuesday night's press conference. They both were. Bush slammed out another winning analysis when, following his statement on how conflicts can be resolved through negotiations on both sides, he thoughtfully looked up and drawled, "the only problem is that Hamas [pause] doesn't recognize Israel's right to exist."
Here were two of the strongest leaders in the world talking about peace, and negotiations, with Olmert even promising a state in 3 or 4 years, and not four hours earlier the House of Representatives ruled in a sweeping vote of 361 to 37 to choke as severely as possible any aid flow into the Palestinian territories, while in Europe, the rest of the western powers were working out a plan to funnel aid to the Palestinian people without feeding Hamas.
Olmert's address to congress was smooth. He had pizzaz. He said all the right things to appease all sides, and piss off all sides, and painted himself as Sharon's heir, the hardened Israeli prime minister who's seen it all, loves his people, and of course, is concerned about the plight of his neighbors.
To the same House of Representatives that voted to further limit aid to Palestinian, Olmert said, "the Palestinians will forever be our neighbors. They are an inseparable part of this land, as are we. Israel has not desired to rule over them, nor to oppress them. They, too, have a right for freedom and national aspirations."
Right for freedom and national aspirations. In a non-state with a crumbled infra-structure, constant in-fighting and near starvation in cramped refugee camps, obsessed with the idea of their national pride, their homeland, and their struggle. A struggle inherent to Israel's struggle, its freedom and national aspirations.
Like elections, it's impossible to take Olmert at his word. He is not the hardened Israeli general turned prime minister of the past. He is the former disappointing mayor of Jerusalem, the former deputy prime minister everybody held at arm's length. He is riding on the victory of a man who died at the prime of his career, a prime 180 degrees away from where he promised he would be during his own corrupt election campaigns.
A friend of mine on a three-week leadership program in Israel told me that the one thing he's gotten out of his trip is the realization that no solution is possible in this conflict. Interesting because when he asked me what I've gotten out of my work this year, the first thing that came to mind was the realization that a solution is completely possible. Despite all the variables, including the temperments of our leaders.
Abbas proposed, and Hamas rejected, an idea to pose a referendum to Palestinians on whether to accept a state based on the 1967 borders. It was a strange propasal and an obvious reaction from Hamas. Such a referendum is meaningless. A Palestinian referendum on the borders of its state would by nature be a referendum on the borders of Israel's state, and in this conflict, neither entity can unilaterally determine the borders of another state.
A solution is possible. Maybe a temporary solution, like the others, to tide us over a few years, or even decades, before the next war. But there won't be a solution as long as each side refuses to compromise. We've heard this before. If Palestinians will agree only to a state set at 1967 borders and Israel will agree only to withdrawal as long as it does not require retreating to exact 1967 borders, then the current situation will persist. In the meantime, Israel's promise to withdraw becomes more generous by the offer, and the Palestinian vow not to recognize Israel becomes weaker by its offers. In the next five years there will be a Palestinian state, but the solution can be furthered only if Israel agrees simultaneously to set its borders.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
dawning of the age
Max went to Africa today, so we had another long weekend hafla all together in Jerusalem. The community that's grown together that I've been a part of this last year has been so amazing. There's really no other way to describe it. We came together last fall at the rainbow gathering, some people we'd known before, some friends of friends, lots of travelers and passers-by, a new generation taking over Nahlaot in Jerusalem, its narrow stone alleyways and cave-like houses, its teachers and its laundromats. It's a transient community of people who touch down on each other for a few weeks or months or years, then stay or go, and find a path. I spend almost every weekend with these people and these places. Its a big part of home.
The apartment where yoni lis used to live and then hillel moved in with ami and the other ami and then max when hillel left is the hub. At least it was before the lice, and now Max is gone, but the energy is still there. It's the door in the middle of Nahlaot's main 'street' that's literally almost always open and inside there's an extra person sleeping and so many more eating or cooking or playing music. Adina, the Queen of Nahlaot, singing and whimpering and giggling, and someone walking her home, and Ezra mopping and laughing, and Ami making chai or cooking or eating or learning or playing guitar, Devora smiling, and Max moving to rythm, barefoot,and then Jackie, and Elisha somewhere, and Meir Chaim somewhere, and eveyone stopping in or staying. Then there's the anonymous guy sitting cross-legged on the bench on Be'er Sheva who tells you to look above the door for the key when you were looking nonchalantly in the tree, and the tourists.
Both of my mother's brothers and their wives and kids live in Nahlaot, in the same Nahlaot but more settled and less touched by fairydust. My sister also lives there, with her husband, but they've been in India for the last few months. During the winter, I was in Jerusalem at least three days a week. Now that it's summer, it feels even more like a utopic shtetl, the center of the world, from a certain angle.
Ironically, the only thing weakening paradise is the product of its creation, its transience. That is its beating heart, its allure, its rejuvenating character. For the last half year, everything fit into place. Two of my oldest friends, and a good friend of one of them, and that new friend's girlfriend, and then another of their friends who ended up with the female of my two oldest friends, and a new friend who I grew up with, and an old sporadic friend, and others who I'd mention but this sentence is too long, and the tel aviv family, became my closest. And there were always more people around. And there has always been food, and a place to stay, and someone to talk to, and freedom and flow and comfort. Sometimes we go to the woods or to a festival or to a farm and sometimes we spill onto someone else's house.
It's like college or camp but more ambiguous. Everyone is doing something similar and everyone is doing something different, and some of us work, and some don't, but it works, and we're family, and people leave and new people come and some people stay and become the world to each other. Already people are going, and still in a few weeks or months, and again next year. It feels like everything is on the brink of change, but it's always been changing. When Max left he told me that I was the mama and had to hold down the fort. There are other mamas around, and more will be back at some point, and then I'll be gone, and then a new generation.
The apartment where yoni lis used to live and then hillel moved in with ami and the other ami and then max when hillel left is the hub. At least it was before the lice, and now Max is gone, but the energy is still there. It's the door in the middle of Nahlaot's main 'street' that's literally almost always open and inside there's an extra person sleeping and so many more eating or cooking or playing music. Adina, the Queen of Nahlaot, singing and whimpering and giggling, and someone walking her home, and Ezra mopping and laughing, and Ami making chai or cooking or eating or learning or playing guitar, Devora smiling, and Max moving to rythm, barefoot,and then Jackie, and Elisha somewhere, and Meir Chaim somewhere, and eveyone stopping in or staying. Then there's the anonymous guy sitting cross-legged on the bench on Be'er Sheva who tells you to look above the door for the key when you were looking nonchalantly in the tree, and the tourists.
Both of my mother's brothers and their wives and kids live in Nahlaot, in the same Nahlaot but more settled and less touched by fairydust. My sister also lives there, with her husband, but they've been in India for the last few months. During the winter, I was in Jerusalem at least three days a week. Now that it's summer, it feels even more like a utopic shtetl, the center of the world, from a certain angle.
Ironically, the only thing weakening paradise is the product of its creation, its transience. That is its beating heart, its allure, its rejuvenating character. For the last half year, everything fit into place. Two of my oldest friends, and a good friend of one of them, and that new friend's girlfriend, and then another of their friends who ended up with the female of my two oldest friends, and a new friend who I grew up with, and an old sporadic friend, and others who I'd mention but this sentence is too long, and the tel aviv family, became my closest. And there were always more people around. And there has always been food, and a place to stay, and someone to talk to, and freedom and flow and comfort. Sometimes we go to the woods or to a festival or to a farm and sometimes we spill onto someone else's house.
It's like college or camp but more ambiguous. Everyone is doing something similar and everyone is doing something different, and some of us work, and some don't, but it works, and we're family, and people leave and new people come and some people stay and become the world to each other. Already people are going, and still in a few weeks or months, and again next year. It feels like everything is on the brink of change, but it's always been changing. When Max left he told me that I was the mama and had to hold down the fort. There are other mamas around, and more will be back at some point, and then I'll be gone, and then a new generation.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
life, death and, blah
There were probably a million things I could have written about in the last week, but I kept holding myself back. It's spring, and it's a time of birth and freedom, I can appreciate that, but it also feels like the end of an era, overburdened by change and worry and departures and distance and change. I don't know if my thoughts about all this have been negative or regressive or positive and a learning experience - but I wanted to avoid writing another tirade about death, war and the good hiding in the world.
I kept putting off writing about the deaths of the two people critically wounded in last month's bombing in Tel Aviv. Both were young and sons and died of organ failure. I took the news pretty hard. My instinct when I heard about the first was that the second had died also. He did, the next day.
I hear about people I don't know dying every day, but for some reason, this one hit hard. Maybe it's that everything seems to be exploding around me, figuratively, or maybe it was because it all hit so close to home, literally, down the street, and in so many other ways. The last few weeks have felt so transitory and transformative to me, that the news of of two more people whose lives and families and everything around them changed in a split-second was a lot to handle.
I'm in my own absorbed reality, much less tragic, thinking about how insane, and deaf, I am going from construction now at all sides of me starting before dawn, thinking about the amazing community I've been part of that's already in the process of morphing with time and the nature of things, thinking about emotional labor, and caring for friends, and the balance between selfishness and selflessness, thinking about the importance of sleep and the importance of adventure and the importance of love and the importance of happiness, thinking about my family, and my work, and joie de vivre. It's absorbed and it's not so tragic, but it's another reminder that life is not static.
I got a ride with my boss on Monday to outside of Jerusalem, planning to meet up with friends in the city and hitchhike together to Meron for Lag Ba'omer, traditionally the 33rd day counting down to the end of the grain harvest and the giving of the torah, and in the hasidic world, the anniversary of the death of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai, author of the Zohar, who is buried in a huge tomb at the top of the mountain. I wasn't sure I wanted to go. I went for Lag Ba'omer five years ago, and hated it, feeling very out of place, and very small and sticky and debaucherous. But I figured I'd be with great friends, and we could spend the whole time camping in the forest.
When I got to Jerusalem, nobody was ready to go. It took five hours of eating and playing music before we got on the road, and then we were 12. We stayed a group walking through the empty market, to the street, to the bus stop, to the random junction where every ten minutes another five buses pulled up, and another hundreds after hundreds of haredi men, wives, sons and daughters, and dozens of hippies, pushed their way on. Lots of screaming, lots of shoving, and one woman who gave me a dirty look and slapped my arm when I made a noise she said wasn't modest. We waited almost two hours for a bus. Then we reconsidered.
Four of us went on. I stayed in Jerusalem. We broke down again into two groups, one went to learn zohar and the rest of us went to make a bonfire and play music in the park. The apocalypse that had hit the park on Independence Day was back, this time in the form of hundreds of groups of high school kids eating meat and gleefully building enormous fires. We went back into the forest, and ended up sleeping there until late morning. It wasn't exactly what I had planned, but it was nice.
I keep learning, over and over to stop planning. Things change whether we plan them or not. We're much more susceptible to great surprises when we're not so busy feeling disappointed at unfulfilled dreams.
The park looked destroyed when we came down from our site. I wondered who was going to clean it. We decided to pick up some garbage, and ended up attacking three sites. We scored some ketchup and unopened bags of about 40 fresh pitas. I needed to get out of the city and go be lazy somewhere in nature. It took some time but at around 2:30 we made it to the bus station. Then we waited some more, until I made everyone get on a bus that was going close to where we wanted, if not exactly, because I so much prefered to be sitting on a bus riding through the Jerusalem hills to a random spot than sitting in front of the bus station waiting.
So we did, and the day was awesome. We went to a collective community called Evan Sapir, set on a cliff in the middle of the forest. We found a great tree cave and a natural pools carved into stone, and a handmade wooden sweatlodge, and lots of green and quiet. We sat around for six or seven hours, but this time we weren't waiting.
I tried to avoid writing this post because I didn't want to write about death again, and I didn't want to come up with some feel-good analysis of how to keep these things from breaking us down, or give some moral guide to reorganizing tragedy to build ourselves up. But it's unavoidable.
Usually, when I hear about deaths, I can do that moral guide thing, I can distance myself enough to understand the loss on some level, and use it on other levels to recognize the lesson learned to love life and make the most of every second. You never know when things are going to change. Man makes plans and god laughs. Be ready for change. Be ready for tragedy, be open to its invigorating elements.
But I don't think I succeeded in doing that that with the news of these deaths. I know about change, and I know how to look at the positive elements of tragedy, but sometimes we just want to mourn, not necessarily use the opportunity to boost our own morale and price of life. Even when we don't know the victim personally, recognizing their name, hearing about them in such detail, seeing their families crying and knowing, feeling, the desperation they must be going through, being familiar with the exact place they were injured and having been there numerous times, being familiar with the kind of community they come from, the kind of life they lived, makes it too difficult sometimes to be ready to pick ourselves up and find the feel-good moral of the story. Even if we get to spend a day lazing around in nature and feeling alive.
I kept putting off writing about the deaths of the two people critically wounded in last month's bombing in Tel Aviv. Both were young and sons and died of organ failure. I took the news pretty hard. My instinct when I heard about the first was that the second had died also. He did, the next day.
I hear about people I don't know dying every day, but for some reason, this one hit hard. Maybe it's that everything seems to be exploding around me, figuratively, or maybe it was because it all hit so close to home, literally, down the street, and in so many other ways. The last few weeks have felt so transitory and transformative to me, that the news of of two more people whose lives and families and everything around them changed in a split-second was a lot to handle.
I'm in my own absorbed reality, much less tragic, thinking about how insane, and deaf, I am going from construction now at all sides of me starting before dawn, thinking about the amazing community I've been part of that's already in the process of morphing with time and the nature of things, thinking about emotional labor, and caring for friends, and the balance between selfishness and selflessness, thinking about the importance of sleep and the importance of adventure and the importance of love and the importance of happiness, thinking about my family, and my work, and joie de vivre. It's absorbed and it's not so tragic, but it's another reminder that life is not static.
I got a ride with my boss on Monday to outside of Jerusalem, planning to meet up with friends in the city and hitchhike together to Meron for Lag Ba'omer, traditionally the 33rd day counting down to the end of the grain harvest and the giving of the torah, and in the hasidic world, the anniversary of the death of Rabbi Shimon Bar Yohai, author of the Zohar, who is buried in a huge tomb at the top of the mountain. I wasn't sure I wanted to go. I went for Lag Ba'omer five years ago, and hated it, feeling very out of place, and very small and sticky and debaucherous. But I figured I'd be with great friends, and we could spend the whole time camping in the forest.
When I got to Jerusalem, nobody was ready to go. It took five hours of eating and playing music before we got on the road, and then we were 12. We stayed a group walking through the empty market, to the street, to the bus stop, to the random junction where every ten minutes another five buses pulled up, and another hundreds after hundreds of haredi men, wives, sons and daughters, and dozens of hippies, pushed their way on. Lots of screaming, lots of shoving, and one woman who gave me a dirty look and slapped my arm when I made a noise she said wasn't modest. We waited almost two hours for a bus. Then we reconsidered.
Four of us went on. I stayed in Jerusalem. We broke down again into two groups, one went to learn zohar and the rest of us went to make a bonfire and play music in the park. The apocalypse that had hit the park on Independence Day was back, this time in the form of hundreds of groups of high school kids eating meat and gleefully building enormous fires. We went back into the forest, and ended up sleeping there until late morning. It wasn't exactly what I had planned, but it was nice.
I keep learning, over and over to stop planning. Things change whether we plan them or not. We're much more susceptible to great surprises when we're not so busy feeling disappointed at unfulfilled dreams.
The park looked destroyed when we came down from our site. I wondered who was going to clean it. We decided to pick up some garbage, and ended up attacking three sites. We scored some ketchup and unopened bags of about 40 fresh pitas. I needed to get out of the city and go be lazy somewhere in nature. It took some time but at around 2:30 we made it to the bus station. Then we waited some more, until I made everyone get on a bus that was going close to where we wanted, if not exactly, because I so much prefered to be sitting on a bus riding through the Jerusalem hills to a random spot than sitting in front of the bus station waiting.
So we did, and the day was awesome. We went to a collective community called Evan Sapir, set on a cliff in the middle of the forest. We found a great tree cave and a natural pools carved into stone, and a handmade wooden sweatlodge, and lots of green and quiet. We sat around for six or seven hours, but this time we weren't waiting.
I tried to avoid writing this post because I didn't want to write about death again, and I didn't want to come up with some feel-good analysis of how to keep these things from breaking us down, or give some moral guide to reorganizing tragedy to build ourselves up. But it's unavoidable.
Usually, when I hear about deaths, I can do that moral guide thing, I can distance myself enough to understand the loss on some level, and use it on other levels to recognize the lesson learned to love life and make the most of every second. You never know when things are going to change. Man makes plans and god laughs. Be ready for change. Be ready for tragedy, be open to its invigorating elements.
But I don't think I succeeded in doing that that with the news of these deaths. I know about change, and I know how to look at the positive elements of tragedy, but sometimes we just want to mourn, not necessarily use the opportunity to boost our own morale and price of life. Even when we don't know the victim personally, recognizing their name, hearing about them in such detail, seeing their families crying and knowing, feeling, the desperation they must be going through, being familiar with the exact place they were injured and having been there numerous times, being familiar with the kind of community they come from, the kind of life they lived, makes it too difficult sometimes to be ready to pick ourselves up and find the feel-good moral of the story. Even if we get to spend a day lazing around in nature and feeling alive.
Monday, May 15, 2006
democratic lifeline
In his address assembling the new security cabinet Sunday, Ehud Olmert said that this would be the vehicle driving a new era in determining Israel's way of life and democratic nature. In hebrew, he used the term "arichat hahaim" which spelled one way means way of life, and spelled another means length of life, or lifeline.
He made the announcement only a couple hours after the supreme court decided to uphold its standing law preventing Palestinians married to Israeli Arabs from living together in Israeli territory. In a vote of six to five, the supreme court upheld a discriminatory law that could have been avoided if Israel had a constitution. Five of eleven supreme court justices said the law was discriminatory, and supported the petitions to change it - but the law stands.
The justices' reasoning was that in time of war, you can't grant citizenship to the enemy. Judge Mishael Cheshin, who announced his resignation just before the final debate on the issue and serves his last day tomorrow, said a few months ago, "No one is preventing them from building a family but they should live in Jenin instead of in [the Israeli Arab city of] Umm al-Fahm."
Could an American supreme court justice make the same case for a U.S. citizen wanting to bring over his or her Iraqi partner?
Proponents say the ruling is not a matter of infringement on citizens' civil rights but rather a necessary wartime precaution, which leads us to understand that in wartime, civil rights don't count.
Right after the ruling, Justice Minister Haim Ramon said Israel's citizenship law had to be set into basic law, and said he'd do it in six months.
But without a constitution, there is no way to insure citizens' rights. Basic law does not have the same power as a living constitution. Without a constitution there is no vehicle to allow citizens to challenge a particular law on an individual basis with the guarantee of a general citizens' right.
When the citizenship law is set into place, there will be no room for arguments of discrimination. Amendments can be made, but not with the backing of the constitutional right of the citizen. The law will be determined with consideration of security and religion, and will not consider the rights of those who are affected by the rule. The basic law will only continue to perpetuate the cycle of discrimination, because it will establish a general rule without consideration of rights. It will allow for a supreme court justice to suggest its non-Jewish citizen go live in a refugee camp in a violent non-state rather than give its citizen's spouse the right to live with family. Setting this law, or any law, without a consitution provides only a legal basis for systemic discrimination.
The difference between determinining Israel's 'way of life' and its 'lifeline' is minimal. As long as Israel continues to set its way of life without consideration for the varying and individual needs of its diverse citizens, its lifeline shakes. As long as Israel continues to spout democratic rhetoric while doing nothing to change or quell the discrimination that exists on on every level from religious to economic to racial, its lifeline shakes. As long as no documents exist to provide a guarantee for the right of an individual citizen, its lifeline shakes. Israel cannot call itself a democracy while simultaneously discriminating openly against its citizens. Its length of life depends on a necessary lifeline, a consititution. Without a constitution, there is no way to ensure the sustainability of any of the rights its citizens enjoy now, or the sustainability of democracy.
He made the announcement only a couple hours after the supreme court decided to uphold its standing law preventing Palestinians married to Israeli Arabs from living together in Israeli territory. In a vote of six to five, the supreme court upheld a discriminatory law that could have been avoided if Israel had a constitution. Five of eleven supreme court justices said the law was discriminatory, and supported the petitions to change it - but the law stands.
The justices' reasoning was that in time of war, you can't grant citizenship to the enemy. Judge Mishael Cheshin, who announced his resignation just before the final debate on the issue and serves his last day tomorrow, said a few months ago, "No one is preventing them from building a family but they should live in Jenin instead of in [the Israeli Arab city of] Umm al-Fahm."
Could an American supreme court justice make the same case for a U.S. citizen wanting to bring over his or her Iraqi partner?
Proponents say the ruling is not a matter of infringement on citizens' civil rights but rather a necessary wartime precaution, which leads us to understand that in wartime, civil rights don't count.
Right after the ruling, Justice Minister Haim Ramon said Israel's citizenship law had to be set into basic law, and said he'd do it in six months.
But without a constitution, there is no way to insure citizens' rights. Basic law does not have the same power as a living constitution. Without a constitution there is no vehicle to allow citizens to challenge a particular law on an individual basis with the guarantee of a general citizens' right.
When the citizenship law is set into place, there will be no room for arguments of discrimination. Amendments can be made, but not with the backing of the constitutional right of the citizen. The law will be determined with consideration of security and religion, and will not consider the rights of those who are affected by the rule. The basic law will only continue to perpetuate the cycle of discrimination, because it will establish a general rule without consideration of rights. It will allow for a supreme court justice to suggest its non-Jewish citizen go live in a refugee camp in a violent non-state rather than give its citizen's spouse the right to live with family. Setting this law, or any law, without a consitution provides only a legal basis for systemic discrimination.
The difference between determinining Israel's 'way of life' and its 'lifeline' is minimal. As long as Israel continues to set its way of life without consideration for the varying and individual needs of its diverse citizens, its lifeline shakes. As long as Israel continues to spout democratic rhetoric while doing nothing to change or quell the discrimination that exists on on every level from religious to economic to racial, its lifeline shakes. As long as no documents exist to provide a guarantee for the right of an individual citizen, its lifeline shakes. Israel cannot call itself a democracy while simultaneously discriminating openly against its citizens. Its length of life depends on a necessary lifeline, a consititution. Without a constitution, there is no way to ensure the sustainability of any of the rights its citizens enjoy now, or the sustainability of democracy.
Monday, May 08, 2006
it's all in the wrist
We read our horoscopes on the way to Haifa on Friday. We laughed at its advice. The general hint of the week was not to rely on our luck, use careful planning and do our homework. True, we were on a 3:30 train to Haifa instead of the 2:15 to Acco, and true we had missed that train because while we stood arguing with the guards to keep the doors open just one more minute our friend Danielle was upstairs at the ticket booth frantically trying to figure out whether to get a ticket and to where. But we felt lucky.
It was a lucky day. I'd worked till seven am and written some diatribe about war until nine and slept until one and now I was on a train up north. We bought a sandwich on the train and somebody offered us theirs uneaten. Bad idea? We figured we'd never do it on a New York subway but this was Israel. We got a ride in the Haifa train station parking lot and from there five more until we reached Tsfat. We knew we were camping, but we didn't know where. We were meeting 12 other people.
It turned out we were sleeping in a park on the peak of Tsfat next to a crusader fortress. We got there as the sun was setting. The tents were already set up. Pesach, an awesome guy who loves his friends and loves to be happy and wasn't even there for the weekend, had arranged us all meals in the old city. He'd set me and two others up at his friend Yonatan's house, which turned out to be an old stone split level building with a giant black llama outside the door and a great family inside. We came with an extra person. They gave us an exta sleeping bag.
We got back to the tents at different times and drifted in kind. I woke up at about 10. We moved onto a platform in the shade overlooking the city and covered it with blankets and sleeping bags. I'd bought vegetables, Tiferet cooked them with lentils, Jackie and Miriam also made salad and stew, and someone else had gotten 40 pitas, three loaves of bread and some wine. There was another stew there, from someone, and a bag of eggs that had made their way from somewhere else.
We sat around and ate and sat around and gave each other massages and sat around and talked, and people started thinking about going for a walk in the wadi. Danielle and I went for a shorter walk and when we came back, Jackie and Elisha were hanging in a tree. We'd met a guy and his dog, one of whom looked into the tree and said, "those people look like their going to fall."
I only saw Jackie's legs. I'd stubbed my toe before and it was bleeding and I was on my way to clean it when somebody said, "what happened," and everybody ran over to see.
Jackie was lying on the ground, half her body hidden in the bushes. She was dazed and her arm was twisted into a shape I've never seen before. At least not on Jackie. Ami went to get an ambulance and we tried to figure out how to move her while she said, "guys, I think it's serious," which we could see, and Max rubbed her head and I rubbed her stomach and someone else held her other hand.
The ambulance came and the paramedic put her arm on a styrofoam splint and joked around. Elisha and I helped her to the ambulance and someone handed me her bag. Her passport was in there. Nobody had any money. My phone and wallet were locked in someone's house.
None of us had ever been in an ambulance before. It was bumpy and narrow and Jackie looked like she was going to throw up, but gracefully. The paramedic forgot her name and asked Elisha whether he was her boyfriend. He didn't want to say. The paramedic wanted to know what Elisha did. We wanted to know how Jackie was.
The best day to get hurt in Israel is on a Saturday. The emergency room was empty. I took her passport and insurance information and tried to sort out the bill, but they wouldn't accept her insurance without a card and we had no way of paying. I signed a promissory note to pay the next morning and got another one from the ambulance.
The doctors forgot her arm hurt or didn't understand her pain because she doesn't speak any Hebrew and their English was worse. They jostled her arm and let us follow them around with Jackie to the x-ray room and into the "activity room" but they didn't give her any drugs until right before they snapped her wrist back into place and they made us wait outside while they did it. We heard her crying inside and laughing and shouting "arret" and then we went with her to get another x-ray. She walked with us this time.
The doctor was reluctant to write the diagnosis in clear English for her insurance company and told her she'd have to wear the cast for 6 weeks and get a follow-up once a week only after he'd already turned around and said goodbye and Jackie had gone out of her way to ask.
We got a ride from someone waiting for his mother which took us all the way back to Tzfat. We'd taken 10 steps on the pedestrian mall when we saw the cops. They said hello to us and saw Jackie's cast. They asked Elisha who he was. He said he'd lived there for four years and indicated that we were coming back from the hospital with our friend who had just broken her wrist. They took his I.D. number and searched his pockets and Jackie's bag, which he was carrying. The bad cop handed the tobacco over to his good partner in the car to smell and a bag of tea to the other partner. When Elisha handed him his rolling papers the cop smirked and lifted them up for his partners to see. Then he gave them back to Elisha and one of the cops in the car gave Jackie a lemon.
We'd thought we'd have a hard time deciding what to do now that sleeping on the beach made less sense, but when we got back to camp everybody was in a hurry to go home. We made havdalah on a giant cup of arak, two candles and some tea, and then everbody packed up and went to the bus station. Danielle stayed behind with me and Jackie and Elisha. So did the guy and his dog, who had come back. He offered us a place to stay but we still wanted to go back to the hospital to pay and knew that pizza and ice cream had to be had. Elisha went off to return equipment to friends around town, and I ordered a large pizza. By the time we finished eating it was past 12 so we decided to take up the offer of another friend who had invited us to stay with him.
Gavi's house was beautiful and clean and we each got a sheet and a blanket and a bed. We slept well and Jackie was comfortable and only woke up at 11:30. I'd gotten a text message the night before saying I was working at 8 pm. We got our stuff together and thanked Gavi for being so damn awesome and headed to the highway. A cab offered to take us to the hospital for 15 shekels and a guy in a red car offered to take us for free. He picked up his friend who worked at the hospital on the way.
It took a while to figure out the money situation and the insurance situation and the bureaucratic situation at the hospital, but we were on our way out by 3:30. We wanted to get to the train in Acco, but someone offered us a ride to Ma'alot where we could get a bus into Nahariya, so we got in. We drove north instead of south and looked at the mountains and listened to our forty-year-old driver's P.J. Harvey collection and got to Tel Aviv by seven. Marwan the hummus man gave us a free half kilo at the Nahariya station.
Jackie told me last night, when I came home from work at four and she was just waking up from a drowsy sleep, that she always pictured herself getting hurt. I asked her if she ever pictured any particular and she told me she usually saw herself being slammed by a truck mirror while riding her bike or being hit by a bus walking in the sreet.
I thought I was the only one who did that. Pictured my own limitations in vivid detail and worse-case scenarios. I asked her if she thought everybody did it. She said she didn't think so.
She's in a lot of pain now and feels helpless in her body. She's going to be in a cast for six weeks. She feels stupid for grabbing a branch that she didn't trust in the first place, but people fall out of trees. It could have been avoided but so could a lot of things or maybe nothing can. She pictured some injuries and got another, we picture some realities and get another, but it is what is and once you know that the rest makes a lot more sense.
It was a lucky day. I'd worked till seven am and written some diatribe about war until nine and slept until one and now I was on a train up north. We bought a sandwich on the train and somebody offered us theirs uneaten. Bad idea? We figured we'd never do it on a New York subway but this was Israel. We got a ride in the Haifa train station parking lot and from there five more until we reached Tsfat. We knew we were camping, but we didn't know where. We were meeting 12 other people.
It turned out we were sleeping in a park on the peak of Tsfat next to a crusader fortress. We got there as the sun was setting. The tents were already set up. Pesach, an awesome guy who loves his friends and loves to be happy and wasn't even there for the weekend, had arranged us all meals in the old city. He'd set me and two others up at his friend Yonatan's house, which turned out to be an old stone split level building with a giant black llama outside the door and a great family inside. We came with an extra person. They gave us an exta sleeping bag.
We got back to the tents at different times and drifted in kind. I woke up at about 10. We moved onto a platform in the shade overlooking the city and covered it with blankets and sleeping bags. I'd bought vegetables, Tiferet cooked them with lentils, Jackie and Miriam also made salad and stew, and someone else had gotten 40 pitas, three loaves of bread and some wine. There was another stew there, from someone, and a bag of eggs that had made their way from somewhere else.
We sat around and ate and sat around and gave each other massages and sat around and talked, and people started thinking about going for a walk in the wadi. Danielle and I went for a shorter walk and when we came back, Jackie and Elisha were hanging in a tree. We'd met a guy and his dog, one of whom looked into the tree and said, "those people look like their going to fall."
I only saw Jackie's legs. I'd stubbed my toe before and it was bleeding and I was on my way to clean it when somebody said, "what happened," and everybody ran over to see.
Jackie was lying on the ground, half her body hidden in the bushes. She was dazed and her arm was twisted into a shape I've never seen before. At least not on Jackie. Ami went to get an ambulance and we tried to figure out how to move her while she said, "guys, I think it's serious," which we could see, and Max rubbed her head and I rubbed her stomach and someone else held her other hand.
The ambulance came and the paramedic put her arm on a styrofoam splint and joked around. Elisha and I helped her to the ambulance and someone handed me her bag. Her passport was in there. Nobody had any money. My phone and wallet were locked in someone's house.
None of us had ever been in an ambulance before. It was bumpy and narrow and Jackie looked like she was going to throw up, but gracefully. The paramedic forgot her name and asked Elisha whether he was her boyfriend. He didn't want to say. The paramedic wanted to know what Elisha did. We wanted to know how Jackie was.
The best day to get hurt in Israel is on a Saturday. The emergency room was empty. I took her passport and insurance information and tried to sort out the bill, but they wouldn't accept her insurance without a card and we had no way of paying. I signed a promissory note to pay the next morning and got another one from the ambulance.
The doctors forgot her arm hurt or didn't understand her pain because she doesn't speak any Hebrew and their English was worse. They jostled her arm and let us follow them around with Jackie to the x-ray room and into the "activity room" but they didn't give her any drugs until right before they snapped her wrist back into place and they made us wait outside while they did it. We heard her crying inside and laughing and shouting "arret" and then we went with her to get another x-ray. She walked with us this time.
The doctor was reluctant to write the diagnosis in clear English for her insurance company and told her she'd have to wear the cast for 6 weeks and get a follow-up once a week only after he'd already turned around and said goodbye and Jackie had gone out of her way to ask.
We got a ride from someone waiting for his mother which took us all the way back to Tzfat. We'd taken 10 steps on the pedestrian mall when we saw the cops. They said hello to us and saw Jackie's cast. They asked Elisha who he was. He said he'd lived there for four years and indicated that we were coming back from the hospital with our friend who had just broken her wrist. They took his I.D. number and searched his pockets and Jackie's bag, which he was carrying. The bad cop handed the tobacco over to his good partner in the car to smell and a bag of tea to the other partner. When Elisha handed him his rolling papers the cop smirked and lifted them up for his partners to see. Then he gave them back to Elisha and one of the cops in the car gave Jackie a lemon.
We'd thought we'd have a hard time deciding what to do now that sleeping on the beach made less sense, but when we got back to camp everybody was in a hurry to go home. We made havdalah on a giant cup of arak, two candles and some tea, and then everbody packed up and went to the bus station. Danielle stayed behind with me and Jackie and Elisha. So did the guy and his dog, who had come back. He offered us a place to stay but we still wanted to go back to the hospital to pay and knew that pizza and ice cream had to be had. Elisha went off to return equipment to friends around town, and I ordered a large pizza. By the time we finished eating it was past 12 so we decided to take up the offer of another friend who had invited us to stay with him.
Gavi's house was beautiful and clean and we each got a sheet and a blanket and a bed. We slept well and Jackie was comfortable and only woke up at 11:30. I'd gotten a text message the night before saying I was working at 8 pm. We got our stuff together and thanked Gavi for being so damn awesome and headed to the highway. A cab offered to take us to the hospital for 15 shekels and a guy in a red car offered to take us for free. He picked up his friend who worked at the hospital on the way.
It took a while to figure out the money situation and the insurance situation and the bureaucratic situation at the hospital, but we were on our way out by 3:30. We wanted to get to the train in Acco, but someone offered us a ride to Ma'alot where we could get a bus into Nahariya, so we got in. We drove north instead of south and looked at the mountains and listened to our forty-year-old driver's P.J. Harvey collection and got to Tel Aviv by seven. Marwan the hummus man gave us a free half kilo at the Nahariya station.
Jackie told me last night, when I came home from work at four and she was just waking up from a drowsy sleep, that she always pictured herself getting hurt. I asked her if she ever pictured any particular and she told me she usually saw herself being slammed by a truck mirror while riding her bike or being hit by a bus walking in the sreet.
I thought I was the only one who did that. Pictured my own limitations in vivid detail and worse-case scenarios. I asked her if she thought everybody did it. She said she didn't think so.
She's in a lot of pain now and feels helpless in her body. She's going to be in a cast for six weeks. She feels stupid for grabbing a branch that she didn't trust in the first place, but people fall out of trees. It could have been avoided but so could a lot of things or maybe nothing can. She pictured some injuries and got another, we picture some realities and get another, but it is what is and once you know that the rest makes a lot more sense.
more war
Apparently, someone (a.k.a Bush) is calling the war on terror world war III (thanks for the heads-up, Mobius), in agreement with an article written last month for the Wall Street Journal by David Beamer, whose son died on 9/11, and contrary to my assumption in the last post that "there is a world war happening right now and nobody has stepped forward to declare it."
But according to ABC,
In 2002, then-White House spokesman Ari Fleischer explicitly declined to call the hunt for Osama bin Laden's Al Qaeda group and its followers "World War III."
Can a world war be declared retrospectively?
But according to ABC,
In 2002, then-White House spokesman Ari Fleischer explicitly declined to call the hunt for Osama bin Laden's Al Qaeda group and its followers "World War III."
Can a world war be declared retrospectively?
Friday, May 05, 2006
war games
Do I walk around freely at night without curfew during war? Do I take long weekends in nature? Do I hop between cities from a great job to easy relaxation and freedom of press, dress and pastime? Do I fear rockets and missiles and bombs and guns? Do I see soldiers walking around en masse, tanks rolling in the streets? Are these my soldiers? Are these my tanks? Is it seige or celebration? Trench warfare or terror?
Israel and the western world are fighting a war on terror, an oxymoronic term distinguished into separate concepts only by nuance. In both cases, destruction is the goal, humans are the target. In a country with mandatory conscription, the line between civilian and soldier is fine. When is it terror? When is it war?
I live in the center of this conflict, but my experience of war is through media alone. In the West Bank and Gaza, militants take the steets shooting guns in the air, their infrastructure is the crumbled product of weak effort and occupation, their youth are the brainwashed victims of ultimate pessimism, fundamentalism and constant violence. Foreign soldiers roam the streets, invading homes, destroying buildings, attacking from air, sea and land. The thousands killed comprise both militants and innocents. Theirs is a war zone.
Mine is the target of terror. Terror is innocuous war. Civilians are at risk in both but it is the method of fear-mongering that differentiates combat from terror. I can leave my house whenever I want and never have to worry about losing my home, but I know that each day I am the likely target of destruction. I know I could be blown up on a bus. I know a rocket could hit Tel Aviv. I know Israel is the front-lines of any battle between the Middle East and the U.S. But I live otherwise freely with only the threat of terror. Meanwhile, thousands more in my half of the war zone are maimed, dead or traumatized. Nobody has won.
The difference between terrorism and the Cold War is that terrorism has proved its possibilities. Terrorism is the natural heir to the Cold War. It is the new war game. There is a world war happening right now and nobody has stepped forward to declare it. The allies have reconvened against the axis of evil. They are fighting to prove that traditional warfare will surpass this new debauchery. On one side, it is the same cast of characters: Britain, France, United States and a new German republic. On the other side, Arabia has been reincarnated into a fundamentalist military and economic power. Islamic fundamentalism has replaced the crusades. The wars go on, now indistinguishable and unprecedently long.
Terror is war which cannot be declared, because it relies on surprise tactics and ambush. Terrorists don't declare invasion - they strike when nobody is looking. By declaring a war on terror on the people of Afghanistan and Iraq, the United States has set out to prove that only a war which is declared can be won. By sending combat soldiers into Palestinian towns and invading with air strikes to crack down on security, Israel is firmly sustaining its tradition of war, of triumphing through military and intelligence. But by refusing to admit its nuclear capabilities and singling out Israel in case of U.S. attack, Iran has set out to prove that cold war is superior - that terror is the best way to prove a point. Iraqi rebels and Palestinian militants are doing the same. It is the guerillas against the soldiers.
But traditional war has lost its efficacy and its glamor, and the guerilla turn from armed ambush to suicide bombings is a promised defeat. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan still rage, soldiers are still killed in combat, civilians in cross-fire, and it is becoming more difficult to remember what the fight was about in the first place. Suicide bombers, using alternative war tactics, set themselves up for deliberate loss - a loss of their own life, a loss of innocent lives and absolutely no redemption for their cause. Terror is the new war, but both are impossible situations. It is impossible to win a war on terror because terror is the new war. Traditional warfare cannot snuff terror because terror is by definition an unbridled tactic of ambush. War is a game of logic and power, of demarcation and boundaries, of winners and losers. Terror is fundamentalism, the anti-logic. It is total annihilation without any rules.
This generation's world war will not end until it is acknowledged for what it is. As long as each side continues to play a different game, no solution is possible.
Israel and the western world are fighting a war on terror, an oxymoronic term distinguished into separate concepts only by nuance. In both cases, destruction is the goal, humans are the target. In a country with mandatory conscription, the line between civilian and soldier is fine. When is it terror? When is it war?
I live in the center of this conflict, but my experience of war is through media alone. In the West Bank and Gaza, militants take the steets shooting guns in the air, their infrastructure is the crumbled product of weak effort and occupation, their youth are the brainwashed victims of ultimate pessimism, fundamentalism and constant violence. Foreign soldiers roam the streets, invading homes, destroying buildings, attacking from air, sea and land. The thousands killed comprise both militants and innocents. Theirs is a war zone.
Mine is the target of terror. Terror is innocuous war. Civilians are at risk in both but it is the method of fear-mongering that differentiates combat from terror. I can leave my house whenever I want and never have to worry about losing my home, but I know that each day I am the likely target of destruction. I know I could be blown up on a bus. I know a rocket could hit Tel Aviv. I know Israel is the front-lines of any battle between the Middle East and the U.S. But I live otherwise freely with only the threat of terror. Meanwhile, thousands more in my half of the war zone are maimed, dead or traumatized. Nobody has won.
The difference between terrorism and the Cold War is that terrorism has proved its possibilities. Terrorism is the natural heir to the Cold War. It is the new war game. There is a world war happening right now and nobody has stepped forward to declare it. The allies have reconvened against the axis of evil. They are fighting to prove that traditional warfare will surpass this new debauchery. On one side, it is the same cast of characters: Britain, France, United States and a new German republic. On the other side, Arabia has been reincarnated into a fundamentalist military and economic power. Islamic fundamentalism has replaced the crusades. The wars go on, now indistinguishable and unprecedently long.
Terror is war which cannot be declared, because it relies on surprise tactics and ambush. Terrorists don't declare invasion - they strike when nobody is looking. By declaring a war on terror on the people of Afghanistan and Iraq, the United States has set out to prove that only a war which is declared can be won. By sending combat soldiers into Palestinian towns and invading with air strikes to crack down on security, Israel is firmly sustaining its tradition of war, of triumphing through military and intelligence. But by refusing to admit its nuclear capabilities and singling out Israel in case of U.S. attack, Iran has set out to prove that cold war is superior - that terror is the best way to prove a point. Iraqi rebels and Palestinian militants are doing the same. It is the guerillas against the soldiers.
But traditional war has lost its efficacy and its glamor, and the guerilla turn from armed ambush to suicide bombings is a promised defeat. The wars in Iraq and Afghanistan still rage, soldiers are still killed in combat, civilians in cross-fire, and it is becoming more difficult to remember what the fight was about in the first place. Suicide bombers, using alternative war tactics, set themselves up for deliberate loss - a loss of their own life, a loss of innocent lives and absolutely no redemption for their cause. Terror is the new war, but both are impossible situations. It is impossible to win a war on terror because terror is the new war. Traditional warfare cannot snuff terror because terror is by definition an unbridled tactic of ambush. War is a game of logic and power, of demarcation and boundaries, of winners and losers. Terror is fundamentalism, the anti-logic. It is total annihilation without any rules.
This generation's world war will not end until it is acknowledged for what it is. As long as each side continues to play a different game, no solution is possible.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
58
Only one person called me on it. It was David, a kid who I haven't seen since he was 8 years old and charming the pants off of everybody at our camp. We were at an innocuously massive bonfire/drumming extravaganza in the middle of downtown Jerusalem, at Ronen Jembe the jembe maker's studio/apartment/secret garden, when this blond kid came up and asked me if I was I me. I was, and I told him so. I asked him if he was his older brother and he said no. Then I remembered him.
In the last ten years he has become even more charming than I remember and a self-declared right-wing religious fundamentalist, though you wouldn't know it from looking at him (whatever that means). He told me he was going to the army next year because Jews are a warrior nation and as a Jew, he had to be a warrior. He said his yeshiva in Gush Etzion was full of 'lefty liberals,' he told me he wouldn't question the morality of anything in the torah because why would he question the morality of something god told us to do, he told me if a baby was born and he saw that it came from Amalek he hoped he would be able to kill it, he asked why he should go somewhere besides Israel to learn about himself, and he told me he firmly believed that Jews are superior. When I asked if he had ever read any Ze'ev Jabotinsky, he looked at me and said, "that's my man!"
The whole time we talked he was laughing, not because any of it was a joke, but because the truth of it to him was so clear, it was ridiculous.
He told me he could never be a real hippie because of his political leanings (though it has a totally different meaning in this country) and then he called us on it, our raison d'etre, our reason for partying and drum-banging and guitar-strumming and flying-high around the fire.
"I doubt how much any of these people really mean it," he said.
He could have meant a thousand things, but it turned out he meant, "how many people here do you think are dancing because it's Israel's 58th birthday? They'd be doing the same thing at a Phish show."
It was only when he said it that I remembered it was Independence Day. I'd remembered by name, but I'd forgotten what it meant. When I was kid it meant these romantic images of Jewish pioneers and partisans, heros and brave hearts, flying the flag of Israel, secure at home. For David, that's still what it means, and for my grandmother too, and for my father, and somewhere, for me too, but none of it makes any sense.
While we were dancing and barbequing more than 2,000 Israeli Arabs and Jews were marching in Daliat al-Carmel to mark 58 years since Naqba Day, the term Arabs use in reference to their defeat in Israel's 1948 war of independence. Do native Americans do this on the fourth of July?
The park in Jerusalem was stuffed with people and grills the whole day, everybody had the day off (except me, I had to be at work at 4), and the place looked like a war zone carnival, all smoke and bodies and noise.
But when I got into Tel Aviv, it was a totally different celebration. I know over in my neighborhood there was a street party, and the beaches and parks were probably filled, but at least by the bus station, independence day was despressing. I saw three separate men sleeping deeply on three separate empty sidewalks, and a lone family making a barbeque in front of a crumbling building on a corner street.
I wonder what people were thinking about the meaning of the day. For some it was a fiercly patriotic day of historical permission to shoot fists up in victory and say, 'look at me, I'm in holiday heaven and this is my homeland, I'm home.' And for others it was a time to say, 'yes, I know I vote and I know I sit in Knesset and I know I say I'm happy being an Arab with Israeli citizenship, but today I'm showing you what I really think, and what I really think is that today symbolizes the day I traded one freedom for another, and here I am in solidarity with my brothers who didn't take the choice." And for everyone else, it was just a free day to relax.
And one day later? One day later the grand synagogue in Petah Tikvah was covered in swastikas, and then elected Yisrael Beiteinu head and member of Knesset Avigdor Lieberman went all out and said what he'd been trying to say all this time, that Arabs in Knesset who show loyalty to anyone besides Jews should be executed. And everyone else started thinking about Lag Ba'Omer and the next big bonfire.
In the last ten years he has become even more charming than I remember and a self-declared right-wing religious fundamentalist, though you wouldn't know it from looking at him (whatever that means). He told me he was going to the army next year because Jews are a warrior nation and as a Jew, he had to be a warrior. He said his yeshiva in Gush Etzion was full of 'lefty liberals,' he told me he wouldn't question the morality of anything in the torah because why would he question the morality of something god told us to do, he told me if a baby was born and he saw that it came from Amalek he hoped he would be able to kill it, he asked why he should go somewhere besides Israel to learn about himself, and he told me he firmly believed that Jews are superior. When I asked if he had ever read any Ze'ev Jabotinsky, he looked at me and said, "that's my man!"
The whole time we talked he was laughing, not because any of it was a joke, but because the truth of it to him was so clear, it was ridiculous.
He told me he could never be a real hippie because of his political leanings (though it has a totally different meaning in this country) and then he called us on it, our raison d'etre, our reason for partying and drum-banging and guitar-strumming and flying-high around the fire.
"I doubt how much any of these people really mean it," he said.
He could have meant a thousand things, but it turned out he meant, "how many people here do you think are dancing because it's Israel's 58th birthday? They'd be doing the same thing at a Phish show."
It was only when he said it that I remembered it was Independence Day. I'd remembered by name, but I'd forgotten what it meant. When I was kid it meant these romantic images of Jewish pioneers and partisans, heros and brave hearts, flying the flag of Israel, secure at home. For David, that's still what it means, and for my grandmother too, and for my father, and somewhere, for me too, but none of it makes any sense.
While we were dancing and barbequing more than 2,000 Israeli Arabs and Jews were marching in Daliat al-Carmel to mark 58 years since Naqba Day, the term Arabs use in reference to their defeat in Israel's 1948 war of independence. Do native Americans do this on the fourth of July?
The park in Jerusalem was stuffed with people and grills the whole day, everybody had the day off (except me, I had to be at work at 4), and the place looked like a war zone carnival, all smoke and bodies and noise.
But when I got into Tel Aviv, it was a totally different celebration. I know over in my neighborhood there was a street party, and the beaches and parks were probably filled, but at least by the bus station, independence day was despressing. I saw three separate men sleeping deeply on three separate empty sidewalks, and a lone family making a barbeque in front of a crumbling building on a corner street.
I wonder what people were thinking about the meaning of the day. For some it was a fiercly patriotic day of historical permission to shoot fists up in victory and say, 'look at me, I'm in holiday heaven and this is my homeland, I'm home.' And for others it was a time to say, 'yes, I know I vote and I know I sit in Knesset and I know I say I'm happy being an Arab with Israeli citizenship, but today I'm showing you what I really think, and what I really think is that today symbolizes the day I traded one freedom for another, and here I am in solidarity with my brothers who didn't take the choice." And for everyone else, it was just a free day to relax.
And one day later? One day later the grand synagogue in Petah Tikvah was covered in swastikas, and then elected Yisrael Beiteinu head and member of Knesset Avigdor Lieberman went all out and said what he'd been trying to say all this time, that Arabs in Knesset who show loyalty to anyone besides Jews should be executed. And everyone else started thinking about Lag Ba'Omer and the next big bonfire.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
kids who died as soldiers
I was in the middle of typing a sentence when the siren went off. I looked up. Everybody in the office was standing. The siren sounded for a minute. Then silence. Twenty-four hours of memorial ahead for Israel's fallen soldiers, a day not for barbeques or parties (that comes tomorrow night, independence day), but for ceremonies and sirens and crying and remembering. There's not a family in Israel that hasn't had a close relative or friend die in the line of duty. This country is small and conscription is mandatory - whether or not we agree with its policies, the IDF is an inseparable part of Israel, its beating heart.
My roommate, whose brother was killed nine years ago in a helicopter crash over Lebanon, told me that he doesn't buy into a day of memorial. He said there were only two days a year that his family got together, memorial day and the anniversary of his brother's death, but still, he couldn't get into it. He said those who remember will remember every day, and those who need a special day to remember need more than just that.
Ceremonies are being held now in every city and town across the country. Another siren will sound tomorrow morning for two minutes. Everybody will stand, everybody will remember. The best music is being played on the radio. Pictures and images and stories of kids who died as soldiers are flashing across TV screens and across projector screens at ceremonies where families sit and cry, cry for their sons, their daughters, their neighbors' sons, their neighbors' daughters, for the concept of Israel and the concept of national unity and the concept of youth and the concept of defense and the concept of war.
My roommate, whose brother was killed nine years ago in a helicopter crash over Lebanon, told me that he doesn't buy into a day of memorial. He said there were only two days a year that his family got together, memorial day and the anniversary of his brother's death, but still, he couldn't get into it. He said those who remember will remember every day, and those who need a special day to remember need more than just that.
Ceremonies are being held now in every city and town across the country. Another siren will sound tomorrow morning for two minutes. Everybody will stand, everybody will remember. The best music is being played on the radio. Pictures and images and stories of kids who died as soldiers are flashing across TV screens and across projector screens at ceremonies where families sit and cry, cry for their sons, their daughters, their neighbors' sons, their neighbors' daughters, for the concept of Israel and the concept of national unity and the concept of youth and the concept of defense and the concept of war.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
martyrs
The first time I remember being really affected by the amount of death I have to deal with on a daily basis at my job was the day that a soldier was stabbed to death at a checkpoint, another soldier was crushed from the waist up in an APV accident at a base in the north, some 35 Iraqis were killed in a suicide bombing and another dozen people suffered the same fate when a Bangladeshi cyclist rode into a group of people gawking at a defused bomb. I was supposed to keep writing.
Later that day, on the bus to Jerusalem, I overheard the guy sitting next to me talking to his brother on the phone, and heard that the soldier at the checkpoint was his friend.
It's impossible not to take all these deaths personally. But getting stuck in fear is a bad idea if you work in news. I started working at Haaretz during the disengagement from Gaza and the northern West Bank, an excessively prepared-for circus that could have been a thousand times worse than it was. And then: three Israeli teenagers shot to death at a Gush Etzion hitchhike post, five more dead in a bombing at the entrance to a Netanya shopping mall that had been hit three times before, a whole slew of Qassam rockets and IAF missiles tossed back and forth over Gaza and the western Negev, 1,000 killed in a stampede in Iraq, another hundreds then hundreds then hundreds in suicide bombings in Baghdad, dozens killed by riots over a cartoon, a string of Palestinian kids killed by falling shells, another string of militants killed by more shells, a haredi father killing his son, an Ethiopian man killing his wife and then himself - all human and destroyed and faceless.
When the falafel stand in Tel Aviv was bombed a couple of weeks ago, I tried to stay detached. It had been hit before, I wouldn't go there, and 10 blocks could be really far if I let it. I heard there was an American teen wounded in the attack, and I tried to stay removed, even as every aspect of this attack kept hitting closer and closer to home.
But I couldn't stay detached, and I am not detached. Every fatality and every causalty, even when numbering among so many others, is an individual who within seconds had his or her life changed without any warning. This American teen, who has an Israeli parent, and looks like such a good, nice guy, a kid, is now going to wake up every morning - if he makes it - and after a split-second remember that he was the victim in a suicide bombing a couple days into a week-long trip visiting relatives in Israel and now everything is different. His story is everywhere on the internet, even though his parents have tried to keep the information among friends. He's not faceless. He is the wounded hero, whether he wants it or not.
Nine people were killed in that attack aside from the suicide bomber and eight more are still hospitalized, one other in serious condition. Newspapers showing images of the attack show the destroyed falafel stand, and then slip in a bunch of photos of the bomber - one that looks like a school photo, another of him dressed in black with a yellow headband, pointing a gun directly at the camera. There are images of his family crying, his mother's face wrecked and wrinkled, passing out photos of their martyr. Their hero.
The bomber chose to be this martyr, this hero, out of frustration and complete pessimism that anything better could come of his life. Out of occupation. Out of brainwash. This American teenager chose a shwarma, and ended up critically wounded, representing all Israelis, all Jews. The bomber was targeting Israelis, his oppressors - he wasn't out for this kid in particular, or for any of the nine particular people who died because of him - but that's who he got.
It didn't matter that neither this American Jew, nor any of the people who died, were his particular oppressors - to the bomber, all Jews in this land are oppressors, and it was up to him to fight. War is war. Innocent or guilty, fatalities and casualties are part of war. War is not supposed to be personal. But it is - every Israeli kid, every Palestinian kid, every American tourist, every soldier, every European peaceworker, everybody, everybody who is struck in war is an individual, a person. Each life worth an immense value, impossible to express. They become the hero, the individual who suffers on behalf of everyone else. There's the hero or martyr who chooses this fate out of frustration, desperation, or hate, and there's the hero who never wanted to be a hero or a martyr in the first place. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Who's the victim? Who's the hero? Who's the martyr? It's a lose-lose situation.
Later that day, on the bus to Jerusalem, I overheard the guy sitting next to me talking to his brother on the phone, and heard that the soldier at the checkpoint was his friend.
It's impossible not to take all these deaths personally. But getting stuck in fear is a bad idea if you work in news. I started working at Haaretz during the disengagement from Gaza and the northern West Bank, an excessively prepared-for circus that could have been a thousand times worse than it was. And then: three Israeli teenagers shot to death at a Gush Etzion hitchhike post, five more dead in a bombing at the entrance to a Netanya shopping mall that had been hit three times before, a whole slew of Qassam rockets and IAF missiles tossed back and forth over Gaza and the western Negev, 1,000 killed in a stampede in Iraq, another hundreds then hundreds then hundreds in suicide bombings in Baghdad, dozens killed by riots over a cartoon, a string of Palestinian kids killed by falling shells, another string of militants killed by more shells, a haredi father killing his son, an Ethiopian man killing his wife and then himself - all human and destroyed and faceless.
When the falafel stand in Tel Aviv was bombed a couple of weeks ago, I tried to stay detached. It had been hit before, I wouldn't go there, and 10 blocks could be really far if I let it. I heard there was an American teen wounded in the attack, and I tried to stay removed, even as every aspect of this attack kept hitting closer and closer to home.
But I couldn't stay detached, and I am not detached. Every fatality and every causalty, even when numbering among so many others, is an individual who within seconds had his or her life changed without any warning. This American teen, who has an Israeli parent, and looks like such a good, nice guy, a kid, is now going to wake up every morning - if he makes it - and after a split-second remember that he was the victim in a suicide bombing a couple days into a week-long trip visiting relatives in Israel and now everything is different. His story is everywhere on the internet, even though his parents have tried to keep the information among friends. He's not faceless. He is the wounded hero, whether he wants it or not.
Nine people were killed in that attack aside from the suicide bomber and eight more are still hospitalized, one other in serious condition. Newspapers showing images of the attack show the destroyed falafel stand, and then slip in a bunch of photos of the bomber - one that looks like a school photo, another of him dressed in black with a yellow headband, pointing a gun directly at the camera. There are images of his family crying, his mother's face wrecked and wrinkled, passing out photos of their martyr. Their hero.
The bomber chose to be this martyr, this hero, out of frustration and complete pessimism that anything better could come of his life. Out of occupation. Out of brainwash. This American teenager chose a shwarma, and ended up critically wounded, representing all Israelis, all Jews. The bomber was targeting Israelis, his oppressors - he wasn't out for this kid in particular, or for any of the nine particular people who died because of him - but that's who he got.
It didn't matter that neither this American Jew, nor any of the people who died, were his particular oppressors - to the bomber, all Jews in this land are oppressors, and it was up to him to fight. War is war. Innocent or guilty, fatalities and casualties are part of war. War is not supposed to be personal. But it is - every Israeli kid, every Palestinian kid, every American tourist, every soldier, every European peaceworker, everybody, everybody who is struck in war is an individual, a person. Each life worth an immense value, impossible to express. They become the hero, the individual who suffers on behalf of everyone else. There's the hero or martyr who chooses this fate out of frustration, desperation, or hate, and there's the hero who never wanted to be a hero or a martyr in the first place. They were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Who's the victim? Who's the hero? Who's the martyr? It's a lose-lose situation.
Friday, April 28, 2006
independence or catastrophe?
Eliyahu McLean sent out this invitation for a joint Arab-Jewish commermoration/celebration of Naqba Day (the Palestinian 'catastrophe' day) and Israeli Independence Day. I've never seen anything quite like that, considering how impossibly contradictory the one day is for two peoples. Jews consider the day a celebration of 58 years of sovereignty in Israel, while Palestinians mark it as 58 years of displacement from their towns and villages.
For more information call
Ibitsam Mahmid, 054-7433974 or Michal Talya, 04-9531935
יהודים וערבים מציינים יחד את יום הזיכרון, יום הנכבה ויום העצמאות
פרויקט "מקום לשלום"
ועמותת "שביל זהב"
בתמיכת המרכז למפגש ודיאלוג בנס עמים
מזמינים אתכם למפגש דו-לאומי ייחודי
בימים שלישי-רביעי, 2-3 במאי, בנס עמים (סמוך לנהריה)
ביום העצמאות הישראלי מציינים פלשתינאים בישראל ומחוצה לה את יום ה"נכבה",
שפירושו 'יום האסון'.
במשך שנים הורגלו היהודים להתייחד עם כאבם ביום הזיכרון ולחגוג את שמחתם ביום העצמאות – כבאירועים בלעדיים של הציבור היהודי בישראל.
מנגד, הורגלו הערבים בישראל להסתיר ולהצניע את כאבם על האובדן הכבד שעברו עם הקמתה של מדינת ישראל.
חג העצמאות הישראלי, מעצם טבעו, מציע חגיגות נוסטלגיה למנצחים ומתעלם מהמנוצחים.
ביום חג זה מתגברות אצל בני שני העמים בישראל תחושות הפירוד, הזרות והניכור האחד כלפי סמליו של השני.
לנוכח פער חריף זה בתחושות בני שני העמים אזרחי המדינה, אנחנו, יהודים וערבים, נקראים לחשוף את המשותף לנו ברמות עמוקות יותר מן המקובל, ובאופן אחר מן המקובל בימים טעונים אלה.
נבטא את מה שמייחד כל צד בתרבותו, בסיפורו, במקורות לכאבו, נתחבר בכאב ובסבל האנושי עצמם ובשאיפה המשותפת לתיקון ולהשלמה, ונוכל לחגוג את נקודות המפגש המעשירות את חיינו, החיצוניים והפנימיים.
במפגש נחווה התבוננות פנימית ביקורתית; ביטוי אותנטי של חוויות ורגשות; היכרות והבנה עמוקה את רגשותיו של הזולת; תרגול של קבלה וחמלה כלפי עצמי וכלפי הזולת; הרחבת יחידת ה'עצמי' הקולקטיבי ('אנחנו'); הפנמת ערך האחריות האישית לגורל האישי והקולקטיבי; מודעות ליחס בין שינויים אישיים פנימיים ובין שינויים במציאות החיצונית.
אלה יהיו חלק מתהליכי המפגש שיאפשרו לנו לזרוע זרעים של
גילוי, ריפוי ושינוי מציאות.
בסדנה, המתקיימת זה השנה הרביעית, יילמדו וינחו אנשי מקצוע בתחומים שונים ופעילי שלום בהנחייתן של מיכל טל-יה ואיבתיסם מחמיד, "המקום"/"שביל זהב".
§ היומיים בנויים כתהליך אחד שלם, הכולל אירוח, לינה וארוחות בבית הארחה במקום.
שעת ההתחלה ביום ג': 14:00 שעת הסיום ביום ד': 19:00
§ מחיר: אדם בחדר של 3 אנשים 220 ₪ (חדר זוגי 250 ₪). נא להירשם עד יום ג', 18 באפריל.
במהלך פעילות הסדנה תתקיים הפעלה מודרכת לילדים בגילאים 4-14, מותנה בהרשמה מראש.
בואו בהמוניכם, נשים, גברים וטף!
לפרטים נוספים: מיכל טל-יה: 04-9531935 , איבתיסם מחמיד: 054-7433974
להרשמה: שירי בר 04-9831843
عرب ويهود يحيون معا ذكرى يوم النكبة ويوم الأستقلال
مشروع " مكوم لشلوم" وجمعية " شبيل زهب " بدعم مركز الحوار بين الأمم
فى "نس عميم" (قرب نهريا)
يدعونكم الى لقاء خاص ثنائى القومية
أيام الثلاثاء والاربعاء 3-2 من أيار
فى يوم الأستقلال الأسرائيلى يحيى الفلسطينيون فى أسرائيل وخارجها ذكرى يوم النكبة .
على مر السنين تعود اليهود فى أسرائيل على الأنفراد فى التعبير عن آلامهم فى يوم الذكرى وأفراحهم فى يوم الأستقلال كمناسبات خاصة بالجمهور اليهودى فى أسرائيل. وبالمقابل تعود العرب فى أسرائيل على اخفاء آلامهم على الخسارة التى ألمت بهم مع أقامة دولة أسرائيل.
بطبيعة الحال يدعو يوم الأستقلال لأحتفال المنتصرين. فى هذا اليوم تتزايد وتتعمق مشاعر الفرقة والغربة بين الشعبين مواطنى دولة أسرائيل. نحن اليهود والعرب ندعوكم للمشاركة فى الكشف عن المشترك بيننا بشكل أعمق من المعتاد فى مثل هذه الأيام المشحونة. وندعوكم للتعبير عن مشاعرنا بشكل صادق كى نتواصل معا من أجل هدف مشترك, الأصلاح والتسامح.
فى هذا اللقاء نعيش تأملا داخليا, نعبر بشكل صادق عن مشاعرنا, نتفهم بعمق مشاعر الأخر, نتمرن على التقبل والتعاطف مع النفس والأخر.
يدير هذا اللقاء الذى يعقد هذه السنة للمرة الرابعة ميخال طال-ية وأبتسام محاميد (همكوم/شبيل زهب).
برنامج اليومين متواصل ومتكامل ويشمل أستضافة, وجبات فى بيت الضيافة المحلى, ومنام.هنالك ترتيب فعاليات للاطفال –جيل 4-14 فى ساعات الورشة. هلم بجماهيركم نساءا ,رجالا ،وأطفالا.
يبدأ البرنامج يوم الثلاثاء الساعة 14:00 وينتهى يوم اللأربعاء الساعة 19:00.
الثمن للشخص فى غرفة لثلاثة أشخاص: 220 شاقل، وللشخص فى غرفة لشخصين:250 شاقل.
الرجاء التسجيل حتى يوم الثلاثاء 18.4 للتسجيل: شيرى بار 04-9831843
للتفاصيل: ميخال طال-ية 04-9531935 , أبتسام محاميد 054-7433974
For more information call
Ibitsam Mahmid, 054-7433974 or Michal Talya, 04-9531935
יהודים וערבים מציינים יחד את יום הזיכרון, יום הנכבה ויום העצמאות
פרויקט "מקום לשלום"
ועמותת "שביל זהב"
בתמיכת המרכז למפגש ודיאלוג בנס עמים
מזמינים אתכם למפגש דו-לאומי ייחודי
בימים שלישי-רביעי, 2-3 במאי, בנס עמים (סמוך לנהריה)
ביום העצמאות הישראלי מציינים פלשתינאים בישראל ומחוצה לה את יום ה"נכבה",
שפירושו 'יום האסון'.
במשך שנים הורגלו היהודים להתייחד עם כאבם ביום הזיכרון ולחגוג את שמחתם ביום העצמאות – כבאירועים בלעדיים של הציבור היהודי בישראל.
מנגד, הורגלו הערבים בישראל להסתיר ולהצניע את כאבם על האובדן הכבד שעברו עם הקמתה של מדינת ישראל.
חג העצמאות הישראלי, מעצם טבעו, מציע חגיגות נוסטלגיה למנצחים ומתעלם מהמנוצחים.
ביום חג זה מתגברות אצל בני שני העמים בישראל תחושות הפירוד, הזרות והניכור האחד כלפי סמליו של השני.
לנוכח פער חריף זה בתחושות בני שני העמים אזרחי המדינה, אנחנו, יהודים וערבים, נקראים לחשוף את המשותף לנו ברמות עמוקות יותר מן המקובל, ובאופן אחר מן המקובל בימים טעונים אלה.
נבטא את מה שמייחד כל צד בתרבותו, בסיפורו, במקורות לכאבו, נתחבר בכאב ובסבל האנושי עצמם ובשאיפה המשותפת לתיקון ולהשלמה, ונוכל לחגוג את נקודות המפגש המעשירות את חיינו, החיצוניים והפנימיים.
במפגש נחווה התבוננות פנימית ביקורתית; ביטוי אותנטי של חוויות ורגשות; היכרות והבנה עמוקה את רגשותיו של הזולת; תרגול של קבלה וחמלה כלפי עצמי וכלפי הזולת; הרחבת יחידת ה'עצמי' הקולקטיבי ('אנחנו'); הפנמת ערך האחריות האישית לגורל האישי והקולקטיבי; מודעות ליחס בין שינויים אישיים פנימיים ובין שינויים במציאות החיצונית.
אלה יהיו חלק מתהליכי המפגש שיאפשרו לנו לזרוע זרעים של
גילוי, ריפוי ושינוי מציאות.
בסדנה, המתקיימת זה השנה הרביעית, יילמדו וינחו אנשי מקצוע בתחומים שונים ופעילי שלום בהנחייתן של מיכל טל-יה ואיבתיסם מחמיד, "המקום"/"שביל זהב".
§ היומיים בנויים כתהליך אחד שלם, הכולל אירוח, לינה וארוחות בבית הארחה במקום.
שעת ההתחלה ביום ג': 14:00 שעת הסיום ביום ד': 19:00
§ מחיר: אדם בחדר של 3 אנשים 220 ₪ (חדר זוגי 250 ₪). נא להירשם עד יום ג', 18 באפריל.
במהלך פעילות הסדנה תתקיים הפעלה מודרכת לילדים בגילאים 4-14, מותנה בהרשמה מראש.
בואו בהמוניכם, נשים, גברים וטף!
לפרטים נוספים: מיכל טל-יה: 04-9531935 , איבתיסם מחמיד: 054-7433974
להרשמה: שירי בר 04-9831843
عرب ويهود يحيون معا ذكرى يوم النكبة ويوم الأستقلال
مشروع " مكوم لشلوم" وجمعية " شبيل زهب " بدعم مركز الحوار بين الأمم
فى "نس عميم" (قرب نهريا)
يدعونكم الى لقاء خاص ثنائى القومية
أيام الثلاثاء والاربعاء 3-2 من أيار
فى يوم الأستقلال الأسرائيلى يحيى الفلسطينيون فى أسرائيل وخارجها ذكرى يوم النكبة .
على مر السنين تعود اليهود فى أسرائيل على الأنفراد فى التعبير عن آلامهم فى يوم الذكرى وأفراحهم فى يوم الأستقلال كمناسبات خاصة بالجمهور اليهودى فى أسرائيل. وبالمقابل تعود العرب فى أسرائيل على اخفاء آلامهم على الخسارة التى ألمت بهم مع أقامة دولة أسرائيل.
بطبيعة الحال يدعو يوم الأستقلال لأحتفال المنتصرين. فى هذا اليوم تتزايد وتتعمق مشاعر الفرقة والغربة بين الشعبين مواطنى دولة أسرائيل. نحن اليهود والعرب ندعوكم للمشاركة فى الكشف عن المشترك بيننا بشكل أعمق من المعتاد فى مثل هذه الأيام المشحونة. وندعوكم للتعبير عن مشاعرنا بشكل صادق كى نتواصل معا من أجل هدف مشترك, الأصلاح والتسامح.
فى هذا اللقاء نعيش تأملا داخليا, نعبر بشكل صادق عن مشاعرنا, نتفهم بعمق مشاعر الأخر, نتمرن على التقبل والتعاطف مع النفس والأخر.
يدير هذا اللقاء الذى يعقد هذه السنة للمرة الرابعة ميخال طال-ية وأبتسام محاميد (همكوم/شبيل زهب).
برنامج اليومين متواصل ومتكامل ويشمل أستضافة, وجبات فى بيت الضيافة المحلى, ومنام.هنالك ترتيب فعاليات للاطفال –جيل 4-14 فى ساعات الورشة. هلم بجماهيركم نساءا ,رجالا ،وأطفالا.
يبدأ البرنامج يوم الثلاثاء الساعة 14:00 وينتهى يوم اللأربعاء الساعة 19:00.
الثمن للشخص فى غرفة لثلاثة أشخاص: 220 شاقل، وللشخص فى غرفة لشخصين:250 شاقل.
الرجاء التسجيل حتى يوم الثلاثاء 18.4 للتسجيل: شيرى بار 04-9831843
للتفاصيل: ميخال طال-ية 04-9531935 , أبتسام محاميد 054-7433974
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
surprised visit
Donald Rumsfeld surprised everyone, including maybe himself, by showing up unannounced for a visit in Baghdad on Wednesday. Bright eyed and charming, the U.S. Secretary of Defense who is currently targeted for resignation came to 'congratulate' the new prime minister on his smooth appointment and cabinet selection. And also to assure the war-stricken country that American troops would not be sticking around forever.
Later in the day, just when everyone must have been glowing from the surprise, Rumsfeld's friend Condoleeza Rice showed up, also announced - perhaps just as surprised to find herself in Baghdad as Rumsfeld, and hell, the rest of the world.
Why did two of the most senior members of the Bush administration show up on the same day for 'unannounced' visits in Iraq just as the same administration is standing to completely unravel precisely due to the confusion the whole world is feeling about what America is doing in Iraq in the first place?
(I'm not suggesting conspiracy, just wondering what the hell they are trying to achieve? These unannounced visits seem about as pure as a cab driver driving purposefully off a cliff and then offering to drive the victims to the hospital, congratulating them along the way for how well they are holding up.)
effective signage
An Egyptian demonstration in Dahab denouncing an attack earlier in the week that killed 24 people. photo by Nir Kafri, Haaretz
Monday, April 24, 2006
oh, the mysteries
My concept of reality has shifted since I moved to Florentine in south Tel Aviv last month.
First, there's my sleep patterns. Never very reliable, they've only become more sporadic since the move. I'm actually closer to work than before, which logically should mean I get more sleep, but I'm only getting less. I never get to sleep before either the wee or not so wee hours of the morning, if at all.
I blame the construction workers. And Ya'akov.
Construction starts every day at the crack of dawn and doesn't stop until the builders' voices are dry from yelling at each other, or until they are sure everyone in the neighborhood is wide awake. They really are nice guys, but they drill right into my wall every day and drop heavy objects (I'm talking cinder blocks and metal beams) onto my rooftop (right above my head) from the top of their work site in the adjacent building at least every half an hour. The sound shakes the building and leaves me cowering, certain whatever is being thrown up there is going to come crashing straight through the roof and onto my head. It has scared me right out of sleep on countless occasions (I work midnight shifts at least a few times a week, and am usually trying to get to sleep right when they start work). At first I thought they were just using the roof as a storage spot. Then I went up to the roof and saw them dropping a block of cement from their rooftop to mine. They told me they hadn't thought it would bother me. They also told me a month ago that they would be finished in two weeks.
Ya'akov is my landlord. He is in his late 80s and is very interested in us and our apartment. He calls early in the morning, often, to chat and is surprised when I am not always in the mood. He doesn't understand that I don't always work at midnight, and am sometimes trying to sleep. He also likes to collect rent checks and fix things not before and not after 6:30 am, and hasn't caught on that it's not necessarily everybody's best hour.
Then, there are the mysteries.
Mystery # 1: The feces in front of my apartment door
When my roommate came in the other day and told me someone had taken a shit outside the door, (actually, what she said was, 'aliyana! why do you always gotta shit right in front of the door!'), I thought she meant downstairs, actually outside the building. But no, there it was, right in front of our door in a building with a closed entrance and only one other apartment besides our own.
Naturally, we assumed the feces belonged to our neighbors' dog, so we wrote a nice note asking them to please clean it up, and assured ourselves that the dog must have done the deed while his human friends were calling his name from downstairs - our neighbors probably hadn't even realized it had happened, we told ourselves. Poor, shitting dog.
Note securely taped to the neighbors' door, we went out. When we came back, the shit was still there, and the note had been relocated to our door, folded inside out, and stamped with a new message: 'Not our shit. We sold the dog last week.'
This of course brought on many questions, not the least of which: whose shit was it? And, of course: who was supposed to clean it?
Mystery # 2: The artichoke, leek and potatoes rotting on top of my refrigerator
When I came home last week from Jerusalem, there was a bunch of vegetables sitting in and above the fridge rotting. I didn't think much of it, except for a bit of surprise at my roommate's choice of decaying artichoke. When I pointed out to him a few days later that the vegetables were still there and rotting, and maybe he wanted to eat the artichoke, he told me that they weren't his. My other roommate said she hadn't bought them either.
A true mystery.
Mystery # 3: The burning garbage dumpster
Without fail, every day since I have moved in, the garbage dumpster on the corner of my street has been set on fire, and police and fire trucks cheerfully visit the neighborhood. I don't take it personally - I think it started before I moved in. At first we assumed it was a vandal throwing kerosene and a match into the dumpster, but every day? Another unsolved mystery. Perhaps there is something flammable inseparably attached to the dumpster that ignites from daily friction? Or perhaps it is a criminal, underworld conspiracy (and perhaps these are the same folk that shat in front of my door and left a bag of rotting vegetables in my kitchen).
(I'm looking for a roommate, by the way, if you know anybody)
First, there's my sleep patterns. Never very reliable, they've only become more sporadic since the move. I'm actually closer to work than before, which logically should mean I get more sleep, but I'm only getting less. I never get to sleep before either the wee or not so wee hours of the morning, if at all.
I blame the construction workers. And Ya'akov.
Construction starts every day at the crack of dawn and doesn't stop until the builders' voices are dry from yelling at each other, or until they are sure everyone in the neighborhood is wide awake. They really are nice guys, but they drill right into my wall every day and drop heavy objects (I'm talking cinder blocks and metal beams) onto my rooftop (right above my head) from the top of their work site in the adjacent building at least every half an hour. The sound shakes the building and leaves me cowering, certain whatever is being thrown up there is going to come crashing straight through the roof and onto my head. It has scared me right out of sleep on countless occasions (I work midnight shifts at least a few times a week, and am usually trying to get to sleep right when they start work). At first I thought they were just using the roof as a storage spot. Then I went up to the roof and saw them dropping a block of cement from their rooftop to mine. They told me they hadn't thought it would bother me. They also told me a month ago that they would be finished in two weeks.
Ya'akov is my landlord. He is in his late 80s and is very interested in us and our apartment. He calls early in the morning, often, to chat and is surprised when I am not always in the mood. He doesn't understand that I don't always work at midnight, and am sometimes trying to sleep. He also likes to collect rent checks and fix things not before and not after 6:30 am, and hasn't caught on that it's not necessarily everybody's best hour.
Then, there are the mysteries.
Mystery # 1: The feces in front of my apartment door
When my roommate came in the other day and told me someone had taken a shit outside the door, (actually, what she said was, 'aliyana! why do you always gotta shit right in front of the door!'), I thought she meant downstairs, actually outside the building. But no, there it was, right in front of our door in a building with a closed entrance and only one other apartment besides our own.
Naturally, we assumed the feces belonged to our neighbors' dog, so we wrote a nice note asking them to please clean it up, and assured ourselves that the dog must have done the deed while his human friends were calling his name from downstairs - our neighbors probably hadn't even realized it had happened, we told ourselves. Poor, shitting dog.
Note securely taped to the neighbors' door, we went out. When we came back, the shit was still there, and the note had been relocated to our door, folded inside out, and stamped with a new message: 'Not our shit. We sold the dog last week.'
This of course brought on many questions, not the least of which: whose shit was it? And, of course: who was supposed to clean it?
Mystery # 2: The artichoke, leek and potatoes rotting on top of my refrigerator
When I came home last week from Jerusalem, there was a bunch of vegetables sitting in and above the fridge rotting. I didn't think much of it, except for a bit of surprise at my roommate's choice of decaying artichoke. When I pointed out to him a few days later that the vegetables were still there and rotting, and maybe he wanted to eat the artichoke, he told me that they weren't his. My other roommate said she hadn't bought them either.
A true mystery.
Mystery # 3: The burning garbage dumpster
Without fail, every day since I have moved in, the garbage dumpster on the corner of my street has been set on fire, and police and fire trucks cheerfully visit the neighborhood. I don't take it personally - I think it started before I moved in. At first we assumed it was a vandal throwing kerosene and a match into the dumpster, but every day? Another unsolved mystery. Perhaps there is something flammable inseparably attached to the dumpster that ignites from daily friction? Or perhaps it is a criminal, underworld conspiracy (and perhaps these are the same folk that shat in front of my door and left a bag of rotting vegetables in my kitchen).
(I'm looking for a roommate, by the way, if you know anybody)
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
rude awakening
I woke up today at around 4 pm to the sound of the phone ringing. By the time I was conscious enough to realize that it wasn't part of my dream or the usual construction noises that plague my building every day, all day, the phone had stopped ringing. I saw that I had 6 missed calls and five voice mail messages, one from each of my parents and the rest from friends, all making sure I was alive and sleeping and hadn't been down around the old central bus station. It took me a few minutes to understand what was going on. Most of the messages started with something fairly standard like 'chag sameach' and ended with, 'because there was a bomb attack in Tel Aviv.'
What a way to start the day. I'd gone to bed at around 10 am that morning after working a midnight shift, so I hadn't had a chance to check the news again. I called my mom and asked her what happened. She told me at least eight dead and 30 wounded. She also told me it happened at the same falafel stand that had been hit twice before. The last time, three months ago, I remember the owner of the restaurant talking exctitably, saying how lucky everyone was, what a miracle it was that the only person who had died was the suicide bomber.
This time, he told reporters 'There is no second miracle.'
Finding out about an attack is a weird sensation. A million thoughts fly through your head at once, until all that's left is mindless and numb recognition. You call everyone you know to either tell them you're okay, or find out if they are, and then you go about the rest of your day. Today, I got my internet cable installed. Life goes on, we keep doing the same things, even when not 15 minutes away at least eight people are dead from an attack that could just as easily and arbitrarily have targeted you. Did target you, me, in that abstract way. We were just sleeping at the time.
What a way to start the day. I'd gone to bed at around 10 am that morning after working a midnight shift, so I hadn't had a chance to check the news again. I called my mom and asked her what happened. She told me at least eight dead and 30 wounded. She also told me it happened at the same falafel stand that had been hit twice before. The last time, three months ago, I remember the owner of the restaurant talking exctitably, saying how lucky everyone was, what a miracle it was that the only person who had died was the suicide bomber.
This time, he told reporters 'There is no second miracle.'
Finding out about an attack is a weird sensation. A million thoughts fly through your head at once, until all that's left is mindless and numb recognition. You call everyone you know to either tell them you're okay, or find out if they are, and then you go about the rest of your day. Today, I got my internet cable installed. Life goes on, we keep doing the same things, even when not 15 minutes away at least eight people are dead from an attack that could just as easily and arbitrarily have targeted you. Did target you, me, in that abstract way. We were just sleeping at the time.
Friday, April 07, 2006
combatants for peace
The amazing Ashraf, another Sulha friend, is co-organizing this event at Al Quds University in Abu Dis.
********
Al Kuds University Piazza, Abu Dis, Monday, April 10th, 2006, 3:00 PM
We are honored to invite you to the “Combatants for Peace” Israeli-Palestine Liberation Gathering. On the occasions of Passover and Palestinian Prisoner Day, we will gather around one table and describe how all of us, who were warriors in the past, put our weapons aside and replaced them with a non violent joint battle against the occupation and for peace between the two peoples.
“Combatants for Peace” is a unique non profit organization comprising a group of Israeli and Palestinian individuals who were actively involved in the cycle of violence in our area. The Israelis served as combat soldiers in the Israeli army and the Palestinians were involved in acts of violence in the name of Palestinian liberation. It is us, who in the past used weapons against one another, who saw each other only through eye-sights, it is us who cooperate today. The Liberation Gathering marks the hope and longing for freedom and independence of both peoples. The liberation gathering is the first public event of “Combatants for Peace” following a year of activity.
Schedule of event:
Gathering
Presenting the organization and its activities
Personal testimonials – the stories of two group members
Artistic show
Speeches
Summary and future plans
We will be honored to host you in the Liberation Gathering
For more details: www.combatantsforpeace.org
Elik Elchanan: 054-2015159
ashraf khader:0599778374
********
Al Kuds University Piazza, Abu Dis, Monday, April 10th, 2006, 3:00 PM
We are honored to invite you to the “Combatants for Peace” Israeli-Palestine Liberation Gathering. On the occasions of Passover and Palestinian Prisoner Day, we will gather around one table and describe how all of us, who were warriors in the past, put our weapons aside and replaced them with a non violent joint battle against the occupation and for peace between the two peoples.
“Combatants for Peace” is a unique non profit organization comprising a group of Israeli and Palestinian individuals who were actively involved in the cycle of violence in our area. The Israelis served as combat soldiers in the Israeli army and the Palestinians were involved in acts of violence in the name of Palestinian liberation. It is us, who in the past used weapons against one another, who saw each other only through eye-sights, it is us who cooperate today. The Liberation Gathering marks the hope and longing for freedom and independence of both peoples. The liberation gathering is the first public event of “Combatants for Peace” following a year of activity.
Schedule of event:
Gathering
Presenting the organization and its activities
Personal testimonials – the stories of two group members
Artistic show
Speeches
Summary and future plans
We will be honored to host you in the Liberation Gathering
For more details: www.combatantsforpeace.org
Elik Elchanan: 054-2015159
ashraf khader:0599778374
Sunday, April 02, 2006
To be (colonialism) or not to be
I.
Whenever I get on a bus or hitch a ride, I mumble silently to god not to let anything blow up. I also make sure to ask god not to let the driver I'm riding with crash into anything, because statistically speaking, Israelis are more likely to be killed in a traffic accident than a terrorist attack.
After a little self-assuring prayer, I stop worrying. Why bother? I can't pass every ride with stiff nerves, scared that something is going to happen to me along the way. If it happens - and hey, it could - then it happens. Nothing I can really do.
A couple days after elections a Palestinian dressed as an Orthodox Jew blew himself up inside a car driven by a couple from the settlement of Kedumim who picked him, a teengager and a 20-year-old woman up from a hitching post along the highway.
The first time I was on that highway was when I was hitchiking myself, with three of my best friends, to the settlement of Shiloh for the weekend (don't be scared/pissed, mom, I won't do it again). It was my first time in the West Bank aside from a wedding I went to in Gush Etzion and a Shabbat spent in Ma'ale Adumim eight years ago. Both the Gush and Ma'aleh Adumim are verbally tossed around as non-settlement settlements, likely to be annexed to Jerusalem should Israel disengage from the West Bank. I've never been to a Palestinian city in the West Bank, the official reason being because I am an Israeli citizen and it is illegal for me to cross into PA territory. For the last many years I also refused to go into the Jewish settlements in the West Bank.
The first thing to strike me, when standing on the West Bank highway with three friends, with the strange feeling of having been suddenly transported, together, from Jerusalem to the shtachim, was that Israelis and Palestinians drove on the same highway.
Putting the separation wall and the IDF treatment of Palestinians aside for a minute as important but separate issues, what I noticed then was that the Palestinians villages and Jewish settlements are literally within a stone's throw of each other throughout the West Bank. Shiloh is less than a ten minute walk from its nearest Arab neighbor (and apparently heavily guarded, though it didn't look like it to me). Waiting alongside the highway, I saw two white Palestinian license plates for every one yellow Israeli plate driving along the same road.
This shocked me. Granted, I couldn't see the wall from where I was standing, nor did I take one step into a Palestinian village. But I was completely surprised to learn that Jews and Palestinians drive on the same road. And that Jews hitchhike, without worry (except me, mom) on that very same highway. For some reason I thought it would be completely separate.
What stops those Palestinians that are committed to carrying out an attack in Israel from pulling that same attack along the highway, next to one of the settlements? Not all Palestinians want to attack Israelis, but for those who do, isn't this the easiest place?
Apparently.
I've mentioned before how easy it is to hitchhike in Israel, and how, especially in the territories, it seems as though every Jew is eager as anything to pick up another Jew, maybe to avoid a situation similar to last week's events in Kedumim.
When I was standing on the highway, waiting for my own ride into Shiloh, I was scared. I knew that the chances of something happening to me then were as likely as something happening to me on the bus I take approximately four times a week back and forth from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv, but I was scared anyway.
Plenty of cars stopped for us, so many more than when I hitch in the rest of Israel. Most of the drivers were healthy looking, well-fed and suntanned hippie teens who invited us to jump in and catch a ride to the spring with them, or who suggested that rather than hitch, we hike through the wadi. Through Arab villages, of course, but a really nice hike nontheless.
II.
I started thinking recently about the idea tossed around of Israel as a colonialist enterprise. What got me thinking was the depth of the culture in Israel in terms of linguistic, religious and geographical pride - the quintessential terms for nationalism, but not necessarily congruent with the experience of so many colonialist movements. Aside from the Afrikaaners, I couldn't think of a single example of colonialism whereby occupiers had a language and culture unique to that place alone, where the occupiers considered themselves a nation, and not just a representative of a larger occupying power.
So is Israel an example of colonialism? What's the definition of colonialism? Is it necessarily a byproduct of occupation? Are these two synonymous? According to Wikipedia,
Colonialism is the extension of a nation's sovereignty over territory beyond its borders by the establishment of either settler colonies or administrative dependencies in which indigenous populations are directly ruled or displaced. Colonizers generally dominate the resources, labor, and markets of the colonial territory and may also impose socio-cultural, religious and linguistic structures on the conquered population. The term also refers to a set of beliefs used to legitimize or promote this system, especially the belief that the mores of the colonizer are superior to those of the colonized. Though colonialism is often used interchangeably with imperialism, the latter is broader as it covers control exercised informally (via influence) as well as formally.
Incidentally, Wikipedia also uses Israel's occupied territories as an example of colonialism as referenced above. Theirs is obviously not the deciding definition of colonialism, but it seems as good as any place to start.
1. Extension of a nation's sovereignty over territory beyond its borders by the establishment of either settler colonies or administrative dependencies in which indigenous populations are directly ruled or displaced.
In the case of Israel, the nation in question comprises Jews and Arabs (though with a government intent on Jewish character.) First problem here is definition of nation. Considering that this is the first sovereign nation state to be established in a land which has been occupied by one imperial group or another throughout its history, it's difficult to say exactly who the nation is here. I guess it refers to the Jews, but there are Israeli Arabs and Christians, and hey, we're already into the deeper question of whether nation here means religious, linguistic or otherwise. 'Beyond its borders' is another problematic designation, considering that Israel does not exactly have definitive borders. Some of its land was given in by international agreement, while the rest was won in war. Then of course there's the problem of whose borders we are going by, those described in the bible, those designated by the UN, or those declared following wars which Israel militarily won.
Next we come to the issue of 'settler colonies' and 'administrative dependencies.' In terms of settler colonies, this whole not having an official border thing really makes it difficult to determine what exactly a settler colony is. Colonies on illegal land? Should there be a difference in consideration between settlements deemed legal and illegal by Israel? Where does the bible fit in? What about administrative dependencies? Let's say by settler colonies we are referring only to land conquered through modern war and internationally recognized as illegal (meaning 1967 borders and on). In that case, the whole separation wall, deemed as apartheid by many opponents, is indeed a sort of ethnic separation, but also by default removes Israeli administrative sovereignty from all land and cities within the Palestinian Authority - a step away from colonialism. If we are to refer to all of Israel and its uncertain borders (not just those in post-1967 borders) as settler colonies, then this whole question gets a little more complicated.
That segs into the next part of the definition, the part that refers to all of this illegal rule being imposed on an indigenous population directly ruled or displaced.
I knew there was a reason I hate politics.
First, I guess we have to try to unravel this whole business of the indigenous population in this here holy land. Some would argue that the indigenous population, by divine and historical designation, is the Jews. Of course, that ignores the fact that Abraham, the father of the Jews, came over from somewhere in today's Iraq, and the fact that his descendents inhabited the land with the godly permission and commandment to kill and conquer the other nations existing there at the time - including the Canaanites, the Moabites, the Philistines, and yes, even Amalek. It also ignores that god's land promise was intended for Abraham's seed - should that exclude Ishmael?
Is the land Israel because it belonged to an Israelite kingdom for so long? Because the Jewish religion and nation were solidified here (2,000 years of exile aside)? Because it is promised to Jews in the torah? Or is the land Islamic Arab because they were here for so many centuries? Or Christian Arab? Or perhaps Ottoman, because they occupied here for some five centuries? Or maybe Philistine or Moabite?
Okay, that part's giving me a headache. Let's move on to the directly ruled or displaced part.In the years prior to British colonization, the Jewish communities living in Ottoman Palestine were directly ruled in the sense that while they were given freedom to practice their own religion without fear of death, only Muslim were eligible to own land or be Ottoman citizens. Jews were sovereign from the Ottomans only inasmuch as they were not citizens of the empir.e Displaced? Yeah, Jews were displaced, no matter where you argue they originate from.
The Palestinians have also been displaced. Are now displaced. Those who spout the rhetoric of Palestinians really being Jordanians, or Syrians or Lebanese or Egyptians are missing that point. Whatever displaced the Palestinians, be it the establishment of the Jewish state, the Arab neighbors who today voice international disappointment for Israel and who even in those days launched war on Israel, did not accept the mass number of Palestinian refugees. Not in 1948 and not in 1967. And not today, really, either. Was this to prove the point that Palestinians must stay in Palestine at every cost? Whether a nation of Palestine as such existed prior to the establishment of the state of Israel is an irrelevant question; one exists now. As separate from the rest of Arabs as Iraqis are from Syrians. Arguments that its lack of sovereignty keep it from being a nation are moot and ridiculous - Israel, comprised of the Jewish nation, is a modern state that did not exist before. The previous Israel was completely different. Not to mention, throughout our displaced history, Jews considered (and consider) themselves a nation, having to do both with land and ancestral heritage. Palestinians, regardless of when they merged, now belong to a nation they connect directly to a land. Saying 'Palestinians don't exist' is as equally obtuse as saying 'Germans' or 'Italians' (two examples of nations that did not exist until two centuries ago) are not nations, that 'Germany' and 'Italy' are not countries. They are now. And both, incidentally, are composites of patchwork nations nationalized into one by political and military movements.
Back to the directly ruled part. Palestinians are not directly ruled by Israelis. They are ruled by the Palestinian Authority. Theirs is an indirect rule in that they are subject to Israeli military control, and thus to international aid because of their collapsing infrastructures. But there is a democratically elected Palestinian Authority that, try as it might, Israel could not prevent from exercising its political muscle, despite any economic or military control it employs.
Regarding the question of any overlap between the definitions of occupation and colonialism, the idea of an extension of a nation's sovereignty over territory beyond its borders onto another nation's land sounds like a pretty clear example of occupation - but does that necessarily mean that occupation is synonymous with colonialism?
Wikipedia gives a bunch of definition for occupation, including the periods of time following a nation's territory invasion by controlling enemy troops; the act of settling onto an uninhabited tract of land; A situation where a country or region is under the control of a foreign army. According to this definition, even those who argue that the land was uninhabited when Jews arrived (i.e. "a land without people for a people without a land") should recognize that Israel's conquest of the territories was occupation. The IDF presence in the West Bank, despite its position of defense, is still a foreign and thus occpying force in a region inhabited by people not under Israel's political jurisdiction. From this, it would seem that while the definition of colonialism encompasses the definition of occupation, occupation does not necessarily imply colonialism.
2. Colonizers generally dominate the resources, labor, and markets of the colonial territory and may also impose socio-cultural, religious and linguistic structures on the conquered population.
There doesn't seem to be any question of whether Israel dominates the regional resources (i.e. water, food, aid) used by the Palestinian Authority. It does (though the issue of aid is a constantly changing battle these days). And considering the horrible state of the PA's infrastructure, it seems clear that Israel dominates the work and business sector of the region as well.
Does Israel impose socio-cultural, religious and linguistic structures on the conquered population? It doesn't seem so. Palestinians speak Arabic and are not forced to learn Hebrew (the majority doesn't speak it); Palestinians are Muslim or Christian, not Jewish; and I think any danger of Israel imposing socio-cultural structures on the Palestinians is probably the last thing anybody's worried about.
3. The term also refers to a set of beliefs used to legitimize or promote this system, especially the belief that the mores of the colonizer are superior to those of the colonized.
Terms or beliefs used to legitimize the system? I don't think Israel could talk itself out of anything here. Zionism as a system essentially embodies this part of the definition. It is the idea that Jews belong in the land, regardless of argument, because either a) god promised us such as the chosen people; or b) the more secular argument that leaves god out of the equation but fights for the right of Jews to have a homeland.
Jews do not have another country. Period. Using the argument that Palestinians are Arab and Muslim and thus could be recast into any Arab land is essentially an argument of ethnic transfer, and means nothing. Using any argument that one group is superior to another here is ridiculous and counterproductive. Here we are: two people in one land, neither of us going anywhere. The band Shotei Hanevua or Fools of the Prophecy, has a great song that comes to mind, with lyrics that go (in translation) "nobody is going to leave here... so start loving each other."
Or don't. But stop trying to prove you have more of a right to the land than the other. How could we even possibly begin to say who this land belongs to? It's like asking which came first, the chicken or the egg? Who cares? They both have the bird flu now!
4.Though colonialism is often used interchangeably with imperialism, the latter is broader as it covers control exercised informally (via influence) as well as formally.
The final part of the definition is actually the part which, if you're looking, most justifies the view that Israel is not an example of colonialism. This is not to make any comment on Israel military or humanitarian practices with regard to Palestinians - it is a comment on whether Israel is an example of colonialism.
When considering how Israel compares to standard colonial enterprises, quite a few differences come to mind. But none stands out to me as much as the truth that whereas in every other example of colonialism I can think of the colonizing group was a representative body of a major world economic or political power, Israel is not. Regardless of a posteriori arguments that Israel is a pawn of the U.S., there is no arguing with the fact that Israel was established not as a satellite of a thriving imperialist power, but as a haven for refugees.
Also, this need for a refugee haven demonstrates the other significant difference: Not only did the new immigrants not represent a major power looking for economic leverage, but they were all refugees who for reasons of personal danger could not go back to the countries they came from. They could have gone elsewhere, but not back to where they came from. This was not the case for the original Afrikaaners, whose ancestors were Dutch representatives looking to secure an economic trade route and, along the way, set up a European society. Afrikaaners would be hard-pressed to say they were Dutch, and would accuse you of insigating ethnic transfer if you suggested relocating them to Holland. But the colonial intention nevertheless makes a difference when considering whether or not it is an example of colonialism. The question of intention is also necessary in considering whether there is a difference between colonialist and colonist, referring to the distinction between settlement as a method of economic/military exploitation and settlement as a refugee solution.
Does any of this make a difference when considering when military rule/defense is necessary? Or when it is justified? Or if refugees turn to exploitative measures as a method of security? Or if the land is won in war? Or if the refugees turn to more expansive settlement through economic and political motivations once their greater state has already been established, and the refugees are no longer refugees, but citizens?
Every nation is entitled to its security. And every nation is entitled to live freely without being crushed or terrorized by its neighbor. Every nation.
The question of whether Israel is an example of colonialism is useless. The answer might temporarily satiate and satisfy, but it's not really going to get us anywhere. Israelis and Palestinians are both here. That's it. Get used to it.
Whenever I get on a bus or hitch a ride, I mumble silently to god not to let anything blow up. I also make sure to ask god not to let the driver I'm riding with crash into anything, because statistically speaking, Israelis are more likely to be killed in a traffic accident than a terrorist attack.
After a little self-assuring prayer, I stop worrying. Why bother? I can't pass every ride with stiff nerves, scared that something is going to happen to me along the way. If it happens - and hey, it could - then it happens. Nothing I can really do.
A couple days after elections a Palestinian dressed as an Orthodox Jew blew himself up inside a car driven by a couple from the settlement of Kedumim who picked him, a teengager and a 20-year-old woman up from a hitching post along the highway.
The first time I was on that highway was when I was hitchiking myself, with three of my best friends, to the settlement of Shiloh for the weekend (don't be scared/pissed, mom, I won't do it again). It was my first time in the West Bank aside from a wedding I went to in Gush Etzion and a Shabbat spent in Ma'ale Adumim eight years ago. Both the Gush and Ma'aleh Adumim are verbally tossed around as non-settlement settlements, likely to be annexed to Jerusalem should Israel disengage from the West Bank. I've never been to a Palestinian city in the West Bank, the official reason being because I am an Israeli citizen and it is illegal for me to cross into PA territory. For the last many years I also refused to go into the Jewish settlements in the West Bank.
The first thing to strike me, when standing on the West Bank highway with three friends, with the strange feeling of having been suddenly transported, together, from Jerusalem to the shtachim, was that Israelis and Palestinians drove on the same highway.
Putting the separation wall and the IDF treatment of Palestinians aside for a minute as important but separate issues, what I noticed then was that the Palestinians villages and Jewish settlements are literally within a stone's throw of each other throughout the West Bank. Shiloh is less than a ten minute walk from its nearest Arab neighbor (and apparently heavily guarded, though it didn't look like it to me). Waiting alongside the highway, I saw two white Palestinian license plates for every one yellow Israeli plate driving along the same road.
This shocked me. Granted, I couldn't see the wall from where I was standing, nor did I take one step into a Palestinian village. But I was completely surprised to learn that Jews and Palestinians drive on the same road. And that Jews hitchhike, without worry (except me, mom) on that very same highway. For some reason I thought it would be completely separate.
What stops those Palestinians that are committed to carrying out an attack in Israel from pulling that same attack along the highway, next to one of the settlements? Not all Palestinians want to attack Israelis, but for those who do, isn't this the easiest place?
Apparently.
I've mentioned before how easy it is to hitchhike in Israel, and how, especially in the territories, it seems as though every Jew is eager as anything to pick up another Jew, maybe to avoid a situation similar to last week's events in Kedumim.
When I was standing on the highway, waiting for my own ride into Shiloh, I was scared. I knew that the chances of something happening to me then were as likely as something happening to me on the bus I take approximately four times a week back and forth from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv, but I was scared anyway.
Plenty of cars stopped for us, so many more than when I hitch in the rest of Israel. Most of the drivers were healthy looking, well-fed and suntanned hippie teens who invited us to jump in and catch a ride to the spring with them, or who suggested that rather than hitch, we hike through the wadi. Through Arab villages, of course, but a really nice hike nontheless.
II.
I started thinking recently about the idea tossed around of Israel as a colonialist enterprise. What got me thinking was the depth of the culture in Israel in terms of linguistic, religious and geographical pride - the quintessential terms for nationalism, but not necessarily congruent with the experience of so many colonialist movements. Aside from the Afrikaaners, I couldn't think of a single example of colonialism whereby occupiers had a language and culture unique to that place alone, where the occupiers considered themselves a nation, and not just a representative of a larger occupying power.
So is Israel an example of colonialism? What's the definition of colonialism? Is it necessarily a byproduct of occupation? Are these two synonymous? According to Wikipedia,
Colonialism is the extension of a nation's sovereignty over territory beyond its borders by the establishment of either settler colonies or administrative dependencies in which indigenous populations are directly ruled or displaced. Colonizers generally dominate the resources, labor, and markets of the colonial territory and may also impose socio-cultural, religious and linguistic structures on the conquered population. The term also refers to a set of beliefs used to legitimize or promote this system, especially the belief that the mores of the colonizer are superior to those of the colonized. Though colonialism is often used interchangeably with imperialism, the latter is broader as it covers control exercised informally (via influence) as well as formally.
Incidentally, Wikipedia also uses Israel's occupied territories as an example of colonialism as referenced above. Theirs is obviously not the deciding definition of colonialism, but it seems as good as any place to start.
1. Extension of a nation's sovereignty over territory beyond its borders by the establishment of either settler colonies or administrative dependencies in which indigenous populations are directly ruled or displaced.
In the case of Israel, the nation in question comprises Jews and Arabs (though with a government intent on Jewish character.) First problem here is definition of nation. Considering that this is the first sovereign nation state to be established in a land which has been occupied by one imperial group or another throughout its history, it's difficult to say exactly who the nation is here. I guess it refers to the Jews, but there are Israeli Arabs and Christians, and hey, we're already into the deeper question of whether nation here means religious, linguistic or otherwise. 'Beyond its borders' is another problematic designation, considering that Israel does not exactly have definitive borders. Some of its land was given in by international agreement, while the rest was won in war. Then of course there's the problem of whose borders we are going by, those described in the bible, those designated by the UN, or those declared following wars which Israel militarily won.
Next we come to the issue of 'settler colonies' and 'administrative dependencies.' In terms of settler colonies, this whole not having an official border thing really makes it difficult to determine what exactly a settler colony is. Colonies on illegal land? Should there be a difference in consideration between settlements deemed legal and illegal by Israel? Where does the bible fit in? What about administrative dependencies? Let's say by settler colonies we are referring only to land conquered through modern war and internationally recognized as illegal (meaning 1967 borders and on). In that case, the whole separation wall, deemed as apartheid by many opponents, is indeed a sort of ethnic separation, but also by default removes Israeli administrative sovereignty from all land and cities within the Palestinian Authority - a step away from colonialism. If we are to refer to all of Israel and its uncertain borders (not just those in post-1967 borders) as settler colonies, then this whole question gets a little more complicated.
That segs into the next part of the definition, the part that refers to all of this illegal rule being imposed on an indigenous population directly ruled or displaced.
I knew there was a reason I hate politics.
First, I guess we have to try to unravel this whole business of the indigenous population in this here holy land. Some would argue that the indigenous population, by divine and historical designation, is the Jews. Of course, that ignores the fact that Abraham, the father of the Jews, came over from somewhere in today's Iraq, and the fact that his descendents inhabited the land with the godly permission and commandment to kill and conquer the other nations existing there at the time - including the Canaanites, the Moabites, the Philistines, and yes, even Amalek. It also ignores that god's land promise was intended for Abraham's seed - should that exclude Ishmael?
Is the land Israel because it belonged to an Israelite kingdom for so long? Because the Jewish religion and nation were solidified here (2,000 years of exile aside)? Because it is promised to Jews in the torah? Or is the land Islamic Arab because they were here for so many centuries? Or Christian Arab? Or perhaps Ottoman, because they occupied here for some five centuries? Or maybe Philistine or Moabite?
Okay, that part's giving me a headache. Let's move on to the directly ruled or displaced part.
The Palestinians have also been displaced. Are now displaced. Those who spout the rhetoric of Palestinians really being Jordanians, or Syrians or Lebanese or Egyptians are missing that point. Whatever displaced the Palestinians, be it the establishment of the Jewish state, the Arab neighbors who today voice international disappointment for Israel and who even in those days launched war on Israel, did not accept the mass number of Palestinian refugees. Not in 1948 and not in 1967. And not today, really, either. Was this to prove the point that Palestinians must stay in Palestine at every cost? Whether a nation of Palestine as such existed prior to the establishment of the state of Israel is an irrelevant question; one exists now. As separate from the rest of Arabs as Iraqis are from Syrians. Arguments that its lack of sovereignty keep it from being a nation are moot and ridiculous - Israel, comprised of the Jewish nation, is a modern state that did not exist before. The previous Israel was completely different. Not to mention, throughout our displaced history, Jews considered (and consider) themselves a nation, having to do both with land and ancestral heritage. Palestinians, regardless of when they merged, now belong to a nation they connect directly to a land. Saying 'Palestinians don't exist' is as equally obtuse as saying 'Germans' or 'Italians' (two examples of nations that did not exist until two centuries ago) are not nations, that 'Germany' and 'Italy' are not countries. They are now. And both, incidentally, are composites of patchwork nations nationalized into one by political and military movements.
Back to the directly ruled part. Palestinians are not directly ruled by Israelis. They are ruled by the Palestinian Authority. Theirs is an indirect rule in that they are subject to Israeli military control, and thus to international aid because of their collapsing infrastructures. But there is a democratically elected Palestinian Authority that, try as it might, Israel could not prevent from exercising its political muscle, despite any economic or military control it employs.
Regarding the question of any overlap between the definitions of occupation and colonialism, the idea of an extension of a nation's sovereignty over territory beyond its borders onto another nation's land sounds like a pretty clear example of occupation - but does that necessarily mean that occupation is synonymous with colonialism?
Wikipedia gives a bunch of definition for occupation, including the periods of time following a nation's territory invasion by controlling enemy troops; the act of settling onto an uninhabited tract of land; A situation where a country or region is under the control of a foreign army. According to this definition, even those who argue that the land was uninhabited when Jews arrived (i.e. "a land without people for a people without a land") should recognize that Israel's conquest of the territories was occupation. The IDF presence in the West Bank, despite its position of defense, is still a foreign and thus occpying force in a region inhabited by people not under Israel's political jurisdiction. From this, it would seem that while the definition of colonialism encompasses the definition of occupation, occupation does not necessarily imply colonialism.
2. Colonizers generally dominate the resources, labor, and markets of the colonial territory and may also impose socio-cultural, religious and linguistic structures on the conquered population.
There doesn't seem to be any question of whether Israel dominates the regional resources (i.e. water, food, aid) used by the Palestinian Authority. It does (though the issue of aid is a constantly changing battle these days). And considering the horrible state of the PA's infrastructure, it seems clear that Israel dominates the work and business sector of the region as well.
Does Israel impose socio-cultural, religious and linguistic structures on the conquered population? It doesn't seem so. Palestinians speak Arabic and are not forced to learn Hebrew (the majority doesn't speak it); Palestinians are Muslim or Christian, not Jewish; and I think any danger of Israel imposing socio-cultural structures on the Palestinians is probably the last thing anybody's worried about.
3. The term also refers to a set of beliefs used to legitimize or promote this system, especially the belief that the mores of the colonizer are superior to those of the colonized.
Terms or beliefs used to legitimize the system? I don't think Israel could talk itself out of anything here. Zionism as a system essentially embodies this part of the definition. It is the idea that Jews belong in the land, regardless of argument, because either a) god promised us such as the chosen people; or b) the more secular argument that leaves god out of the equation but fights for the right of Jews to have a homeland.
Jews do not have another country. Period. Using the argument that Palestinians are Arab and Muslim and thus could be recast into any Arab land is essentially an argument of ethnic transfer, and means nothing. Using any argument that one group is superior to another here is ridiculous and counterproductive. Here we are: two people in one land, neither of us going anywhere. The band Shotei Hanevua or Fools of the Prophecy, has a great song that comes to mind, with lyrics that go (in translation) "nobody is going to leave here... so start loving each other."
Or don't. But stop trying to prove you have more of a right to the land than the other. How could we even possibly begin to say who this land belongs to? It's like asking which came first, the chicken or the egg? Who cares? They both have the bird flu now!
4.
The final part of the definition is actually the part which, if you're looking, most justifies the view that Israel is not an example of colonialism. This is not to make any comment on Israel military or humanitarian practices with regard to Palestinians - it is a comment on whether Israel is an example of colonialism.
When considering how Israel compares to standard colonial enterprises, quite a few differences come to mind. But none stands out to me as much as the truth that whereas in every other example of colonialism I can think of the colonizing group was a representative body of a major world economic or political power, Israel is not. Regardless of a posteriori arguments that Israel is a pawn of the U.S., there is no arguing with the fact that Israel was established not as a satellite of a thriving imperialist power, but as a haven for refugees.
Also, this need for a refugee haven demonstrates the other significant difference: Not only did the new immigrants not represent a major power looking for economic leverage, but they were all refugees who for reasons of personal danger could not go back to the countries they came from. They could have gone elsewhere, but not back to where they came from. This was not the case for the original Afrikaaners, whose ancestors were Dutch representatives looking to secure an economic trade route and, along the way, set up a European society. Afrikaaners would be hard-pressed to say they were Dutch, and would accuse you of insigating ethnic transfer if you suggested relocating them to Holland. But the colonial intention nevertheless makes a difference when considering whether or not it is an example of colonialism. The question of intention is also necessary in considering whether there is a difference between colonialist and colonist, referring to the distinction between settlement as a method of economic/military exploitation and settlement as a refugee solution.
Does any of this make a difference when considering when military rule/defense is necessary? Or when it is justified? Or if refugees turn to exploitative measures as a method of security? Or if the land is won in war? Or if the refugees turn to more expansive settlement through economic and political motivations once their greater state has already been established, and the refugees are no longer refugees, but citizens?
Every nation is entitled to its security. And every nation is entitled to live freely without being crushed or terrorized by its neighbor. Every nation.
The question of whether Israel is an example of colonialism is useless. The answer might temporarily satiate and satisfy, but it's not really going to get us anywhere. Israelis and Palestinians are both here. That's it. Get used to it.
Thursday, March 30, 2006
The womens' tent
My friend Adina, who I met at the On the way to Sulha gathering last summer, told me about this event when I saw her in Tsfat last month.
*****
The Womens' Tent
March 30 -31 Daliet El Karmel
Rosh Chodesh Nissan and Youm El Ard
Unite with women from all walks, religions, and backgrounds in this holyland. Share stories, traditional crafts, songs, and dances. Participate in workshops on listening, empowerment, healing, and authentic women's womb wisdom.
We are gathering, hundreds of us, in a Tent of Peace. We are birthing a newworld. The Druze women of Daliet El Karmel in the North invite those from all walks of Israeli and Palestinian life who hold the vision of healing, transformation, and empowerment to awaken to the wisdom of their ancestors on the New Moon of Nissan and Youm El Ard. The gathering is co-created by three Israeli women of powerful vision, one Jew, one Druze, and onePalestinian Muslim. In such times of violence and war, we recognize that the simple act ofgathering together in unity is an act of Peace. We hope this gathering underone Tent will strengthen our bond of sisterhood and support our work towarda world in which such gatherings are no longer the exception. We raise up our own stories, our own voices, and seek to find and nourish women's traditional wisdom that is often so lost in today's culture. We hope afterwards to continue to gather on the new moon in villages and towns throughout the land in order to reaffirm our commitment to this vision. Join us for two days of theater, ritual, dance, art, tears, laughter, hugs,intimate stories, and a whole lot of heart wisdom. We will remember andremind, witness, heal, empower, and inspire each other.This is a joint effort of birthing a new tradition for communities hosting gatherings like these. We all need each other to help facilitate, build, create, and support our sister hostesses.We need:1) You!2) All your sisters!3) Your wisdom. Give a workshop, have a booth to sell your wares, offer yourhealing expertise. We are still birthing this gathering and are open tosuggestions. 4) Logistical help. We will have many international guests and will need volunteers for transportation and accomodation. If you live near the gathering and can offer home hospitality, if you are traveling to thegathering and can offer rides, or if you can help subsidize transportation for others, please contact us.
S O . . . Bring your visions, your sisters, and a sliding scale donation of ten to one hundred shekels. Please give as much as you can so that other sisters can join us. Peace, Shalom, Salaam
Ibtisam 054-670-2403Dorit 04-686-0736Siam 052-426-7228
For English-speaking contact in the Israeli Jewish community, contact MiaCohen, mia@sulha.com 972-54-222-4278.
*****
The Womens' Tent
March 30 -31 Daliet El Karmel
Rosh Chodesh Nissan and Youm El Ard
Unite with women from all walks, religions, and backgrounds in this holyland. Share stories, traditional crafts, songs, and dances. Participate in workshops on listening, empowerment, healing, and authentic women's womb wisdom.
We are gathering, hundreds of us, in a Tent of Peace. We are birthing a newworld. The Druze women of Daliet El Karmel in the North invite those from all walks of Israeli and Palestinian life who hold the vision of healing, transformation, and empowerment to awaken to the wisdom of their ancestors on the New Moon of Nissan and Youm El Ard. The gathering is co-created by three Israeli women of powerful vision, one Jew, one Druze, and onePalestinian Muslim. In such times of violence and war, we recognize that the simple act ofgathering together in unity is an act of Peace. We hope this gathering underone Tent will strengthen our bond of sisterhood and support our work towarda world in which such gatherings are no longer the exception. We raise up our own stories, our own voices, and seek to find and nourish women's traditional wisdom that is often so lost in today's culture. We hope afterwards to continue to gather on the new moon in villages and towns throughout the land in order to reaffirm our commitment to this vision. Join us for two days of theater, ritual, dance, art, tears, laughter, hugs,intimate stories, and a whole lot of heart wisdom. We will remember andremind, witness, heal, empower, and inspire each other.This is a joint effort of birthing a new tradition for communities hosting gatherings like these. We all need each other to help facilitate, build, create, and support our sister hostesses.We need:1) You!2) All your sisters!3) Your wisdom. Give a workshop, have a booth to sell your wares, offer yourhealing expertise. We are still birthing this gathering and are open tosuggestions. 4) Logistical help. We will have many international guests and will need volunteers for transportation and accomodation. If you live near the gathering and can offer home hospitality, if you are traveling to thegathering and can offer rides, or if you can help subsidize transportation for others, please contact us.
S O . . . Bring your visions, your sisters, and a sliding scale donation of ten to one hundred shekels. Please give as much as you can so that other sisters can join us. Peace, Shalom, Salaam
Ibtisam 054-670-2403Dorit 04-686-0736Siam 052-426-7228
For English-speaking contact in the Israeli Jewish community, contact MiaCohen, mia@sulha.com 972-54-222-4278.
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
31 flavors and then some
So, just as it always does, election day came and went. Security was up, Israelis all had a day off, four people were killed by felled rockets and the Islamic Jihad sent its first Katyusha flying in from Gaza.
I voted in Jerusalem, because that's where my permanent address is listed. Before I actually cast my ballot, I got the feeling I was about to take a final examination I was bound to fail. Not because I hadn't studied - I had - but because I really suck at multiple choice tests.
There was only one question on this exam, though the implications were endless. The actual voting was simple. It involved taking one slip of paper from the 31 possible party choices, sticking it inside a soon-to-be-sealed envelope, and dropping it into the box.
I ended up voting Labor. My grandmother was livid when I told her. She voted Likud. "You voted for the moustache? What do you have with the moustache?" She asked me. I made up my mind sometime before the election, but only really decided while waiting in line for my turn at the polls. My decision was based mostly on the idea of strategic voting, and on the realization that when it came down to it, my two narrowed-down choices of Meretz and Labor weren't so different from each other. Amir Peretz is no prince, but he's better than Yossi Beilin, the capitalist communist. Labor and Likud were neck to neck in the polls (Labor expected to win some 16-18 seats, Likud 15-17), and I felt like my vote was most needed to get Labor as far ahead of Likud as possible. So I went with Labor. Then I called my mom and made sure she was voting Meretz.
It seems to have been a good call, though who knows what's going to come of all this. Most likely another corrupt government stacked with politicians who are more than willing to break those same ideologically based campaign promises they made a few weeks ago when trying to win over the disillusioned ideologues.
My predictions for the results were pretty accurate, but there were definitely some surprises. I thought Kadima would win 30-31 (they got 29), Labor 20-22 (they got 20), Likud 15 (got 12), National Union-NRP 12 (they got 9), Shas 7 (12), Meretz 5 (got that one right), Green Leaf 2 (none), combined Arab parties 7-9 (they got 9).
What nobody expected was that the Pensioners party was going to get 7 seats. Seven seats? This was a nonexistent party before these elections. Their MKs are already retired. They barely campaigned. But for some reason, more young Tel Avivers voted for pension than for legalizing marijuana.
What everybody expected, and what I kept going on and on about - the need to focus on the security situation before implementing necessary social reform - proved to be completely backward. Israel voted for social change. Or else - and just as likely, more likely, even - Israel voted for the most obscure parties they could think of out of political frustration and aggravation.
The next thing on everybody's agenda is the coalition. When I heard the results, my first thought was that there is no way this government is going to make it past a year. It is the definition of a minority government. Kadima won only 9 seats over Labor, Labor only 8 seats over Shas. Labor has refused to be in any coalition with right-wing parties (another empty campaign promise?), and truthfully, there is no way Kadima could join with one either, considering that would require breaking the party's raison d'etre, pulling out of the territories. While each party may have some elements in common, they are really just too different to be successful partners for very long.
The best possible coalition is actually the one that seems not so far from the one most likely to be formed. The best would be Kadima, Labor, Shas, Pensioners and Meretz. This would mean a coalition of parties completely dedicated to social reform (aside from foreign policy-based Kadima), willing to disengage (Shas could be convinced, easily) and a fairly left-wing (ok, left of center) one at that. The coalition that will most likely be formed will include Kadima, Labor, Shas, United Torah Judaism and the Pensioners. While that is probably one of the more democratic ways to go about it (considering where the votes went), I think it's one that will make it harder to get any sort of agreements made.
As it is, Olmert's already said he's planning on focusing on social policy this year, saving disengagement (or the new term, convergence) for next year. Since I don't actually think this government's going to last that long, I guess that means the security situation, which a week ago seemed to be the highest on everybody's agenda, isn't going to even factor into Kadima's policies. Ironic, considering why the party was formed.
But politics are politics, and while it may seem like there are new possibilities ahead, we can't forget that state politics are just high school politics, the next generation. No matter who wins an election, left, right or retired, once in government, all politicans are the same.
One thing that really seems to stand out in this election is the evidence of what happens in a country with no limit to the number of parties allowed to run. Democracy is democracy, and it's great to have choice in democracy, but 31 parties is a ridiculous number of parties to be up in a single election. There is no question that aside from the fact that this was an election based on choosing the lesser of the evils, the close outcome was the result of the fact that people threw their votes every which way, ensuring the impossibility of a single party winning any sort of majority. The choice here was between the lesser of 31 evils.
I voted in Jerusalem, because that's where my permanent address is listed. Before I actually cast my ballot, I got the feeling I was about to take a final examination I was bound to fail. Not because I hadn't studied - I had - but because I really suck at multiple choice tests.
There was only one question on this exam, though the implications were endless. The actual voting was simple. It involved taking one slip of paper from the 31 possible party choices, sticking it inside a soon-to-be-sealed envelope, and dropping it into the box.
I ended up voting Labor. My grandmother was livid when I told her. She voted Likud. "You voted for the moustache? What do you have with the moustache?" She asked me. I made up my mind sometime before the election, but only really decided while waiting in line for my turn at the polls. My decision was based mostly on the idea of strategic voting, and on the realization that when it came down to it, my two narrowed-down choices of Meretz and Labor weren't so different from each other. Amir Peretz is no prince, but he's better than Yossi Beilin, the capitalist communist. Labor and Likud were neck to neck in the polls (Labor expected to win some 16-18 seats, Likud 15-17), and I felt like my vote was most needed to get Labor as far ahead of Likud as possible. So I went with Labor. Then I called my mom and made sure she was voting Meretz.
It seems to have been a good call, though who knows what's going to come of all this. Most likely another corrupt government stacked with politicians who are more than willing to break those same ideologically based campaign promises they made a few weeks ago when trying to win over the disillusioned ideologues.
My predictions for the results were pretty accurate, but there were definitely some surprises. I thought Kadima would win 30-31 (they got 29), Labor 20-22 (they got 20), Likud 15 (got 12), National Union-NRP 12 (they got 9), Shas 7 (12), Meretz 5 (got that one right), Green Leaf 2 (none), combined Arab parties 7-9 (they got 9).
What nobody expected was that the Pensioners party was going to get 7 seats. Seven seats? This was a nonexistent party before these elections. Their MKs are already retired. They barely campaigned. But for some reason, more young Tel Avivers voted for pension than for legalizing marijuana.
What everybody expected, and what I kept going on and on about - the need to focus on the security situation before implementing necessary social reform - proved to be completely backward. Israel voted for social change. Or else - and just as likely, more likely, even - Israel voted for the most obscure parties they could think of out of political frustration and aggravation.
The next thing on everybody's agenda is the coalition. When I heard the results, my first thought was that there is no way this government is going to make it past a year. It is the definition of a minority government. Kadima won only 9 seats over Labor, Labor only 8 seats over Shas. Labor has refused to be in any coalition with right-wing parties (another empty campaign promise?), and truthfully, there is no way Kadima could join with one either, considering that would require breaking the party's raison d'etre, pulling out of the territories. While each party may have some elements in common, they are really just too different to be successful partners for very long.
The best possible coalition is actually the one that seems not so far from the one most likely to be formed. The best would be Kadima, Labor, Shas, Pensioners and Meretz. This would mean a coalition of parties completely dedicated to social reform (aside from foreign policy-based Kadima), willing to disengage (Shas could be convinced, easily) and a fairly left-wing (ok, left of center) one at that. The coalition that will most likely be formed will include Kadima, Labor, Shas, United Torah Judaism and the Pensioners. While that is probably one of the more democratic ways to go about it (considering where the votes went), I think it's one that will make it harder to get any sort of agreements made.
As it is, Olmert's already said he's planning on focusing on social policy this year, saving disengagement (or the new term, convergence) for next year. Since I don't actually think this government's going to last that long, I guess that means the security situation, which a week ago seemed to be the highest on everybody's agenda, isn't going to even factor into Kadima's policies. Ironic, considering why the party was formed.
But politics are politics, and while it may seem like there are new possibilities ahead, we can't forget that state politics are just high school politics, the next generation. No matter who wins an election, left, right or retired, once in government, all politicans are the same.
One thing that really seems to stand out in this election is the evidence of what happens in a country with no limit to the number of parties allowed to run. Democracy is democracy, and it's great to have choice in democracy, but 31 parties is a ridiculous number of parties to be up in a single election. There is no question that aside from the fact that this was an election based on choosing the lesser of the evils, the close outcome was the result of the fact that people threw their votes every which way, ensuring the impossibility of a single party winning any sort of majority. The choice here was between the lesser of 31 evils.
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