A few months ago, the IRES group met with Sarah, the executive director of Santa Cruz Hillel. The purpose of the meeting was to allow us to ask questions about Israeli culture, politics, and overall social climate before leaving. Before this meeting, I wasn't really concerned with this sort of thing. I had made little to no effort to understand anything about Israeli history or politics. Below is an actual verbal exchange, followed by my best interpretation of nonverbal facial cues:
Verbal:
Me: Are there any books you would recommend (on the topic of Israeli history and politics)?
Sarah: There are lots of books. What are some of your views?
Me: Umm...
Sarah: For instance, how do you feel about the settlements?
Me: ....
Perceived nonverbal:
Me: Settlement. (1) An official agreement intended to resolve a dispute of conflict. (2) A place where people establish a community.
Sarah: He's thinking, I'll be patient.
Me: Both of these definitions are probably relevant to Israeli history...
Sarah: This is taking a while. Perhaps he doesn't want to offend me?
Me: Maybe it's fine that I don't know what she's referring to. Maybe this isn't embarrassing.
Sarah: Does...he not know what a settlement is?
Me: This is embarrassing.
Sarah: He doesn't know what a settlement is.
Me: ....
After the awkward silence, Sarah recommended My Promised Land by Ari Shavit.
Shavit is a prominent journalist and columnist for the Israeli newspaper Haaretz. Published in 2013, The Promised Land is a collection of historical snapshots of Zionism, from the arrival of Shavit's great-grandfather to Palestine in 1897 to present-day Israel.
As the title of the book suggests, each of these snapshots holds special value for the author. After chronicling the 1897 emigration of Herbert Bentwich (Shavit's great-grandfather) from England to Palestine, Shavit takes the reader to kibbutz Ein Harod of the 1920s, the 1930s orange groves of Rehovot, Shmaryahu Gutman's 1942 pilgrimages to Masada, and the 1948 forced exodus of Lydda. Many of these stories contain members of the author's family, and he frequently describes himself digging through archives or interviewing survivors.
The book changes tone somewhat at this point. We move to the housing estates of the 1950s, where Shavit was born and raised. In addition to historical accounts and interviews, Shavit uses his own memory, fitting in his life experience with historical context. He interviews key players in the Dimona project, in which Israel armed itself with nuclear weapons. He travels to Ofra, the first settlement (!) of Jews in occupied Palestine, and interviews its founders. He describes his own military service in the Gaza Beach detention camp in 1991. He then covers the Oslo Accords and the rise and fall of Arie Deri.
Once again, the book changes tone as Shavit moves into the 21st century. In the first third of the book, Shavit's role is mostly as an impartial narrator. In the second, Shavit is a character in the narrative. Now, many of the remaining chapters are not even focused on specific events in Israeli history. Shavit is covering modern Israel, and gives the reader a sense of the current state of affairs. He investigates the LGBT and club scenes in Tel Aviv, and in the following chapter has a conversation with a Palestinian-Israeli attorney on the occupation. After a very brief chapter on the Second Lebanon War in 2006, he interviews modern industrial leaders in Israel, and contrasts their experience with that of Itzik Shmuli, a leader of the Occupy movement in 2011 (and current member of the Knesset, elected after the book's publication). The penultimate chapter is an in-depth look at the slow, calculated steps to the nuclearization of Iran. In the final chapter, Shavit travels the original path of Herbert Bentwich while reflecting on Israel's amazing feats of existence and modernization, and forecasting its inevitable collapse (hence "Triumph and Tragedy").
I am not qualified to judge Shavit's ominous predictions for the future. It's possible that many who are also well-versed in these topics hold a more optimistic perspective. I wouldn't know. That being said, I am grateful to Shavit for writing this book. It has personality and warmth. It is honest and complex. It is a book that focuses on the questions rather than the answers, which is perfect for someone who can't even effectively pretend to be knowledgeable.
We'll be landing at Ben Gurion International Airport, on the outskirts of Lod (formerly Lydda), on Saturday. 96 hours from now. I'll see you on the other side.
Steve
Verbal:
Me: Are there any books you would recommend (on the topic of Israeli history and politics)?
Sarah: There are lots of books. What are some of your views?
Me: Umm...
Sarah: For instance, how do you feel about the settlements?
Me: ....
Perceived nonverbal:
Me: Settlement. (1) An official agreement intended to resolve a dispute of conflict. (2) A place where people establish a community.
Sarah: He's thinking, I'll be patient.
Me: Both of these definitions are probably relevant to Israeli history...
Sarah: This is taking a while. Perhaps he doesn't want to offend me?
Me: Maybe it's fine that I don't know what she's referring to. Maybe this isn't embarrassing.
Sarah: Does...he not know what a settlement is?
Me: This is embarrassing.
Sarah: He doesn't know what a settlement is.
Me: ....
After the awkward silence, Sarah recommended My Promised Land by Ari Shavit.
Shavit is a prominent journalist and columnist for the Israeli newspaper Haaretz. Published in 2013, The Promised Land is a collection of historical snapshots of Zionism, from the arrival of Shavit's great-grandfather to Palestine in 1897 to present-day Israel.
As the title of the book suggests, each of these snapshots holds special value for the author. After chronicling the 1897 emigration of Herbert Bentwich (Shavit's great-grandfather) from England to Palestine, Shavit takes the reader to kibbutz Ein Harod of the 1920s, the 1930s orange groves of Rehovot, Shmaryahu Gutman's 1942 pilgrimages to Masada, and the 1948 forced exodus of Lydda. Many of these stories contain members of the author's family, and he frequently describes himself digging through archives or interviewing survivors.
The book changes tone somewhat at this point. We move to the housing estates of the 1950s, where Shavit was born and raised. In addition to historical accounts and interviews, Shavit uses his own memory, fitting in his life experience with historical context. He interviews key players in the Dimona project, in which Israel armed itself with nuclear weapons. He travels to Ofra, the first settlement (!) of Jews in occupied Palestine, and interviews its founders. He describes his own military service in the Gaza Beach detention camp in 1991. He then covers the Oslo Accords and the rise and fall of Arie Deri.
Once again, the book changes tone as Shavit moves into the 21st century. In the first third of the book, Shavit's role is mostly as an impartial narrator. In the second, Shavit is a character in the narrative. Now, many of the remaining chapters are not even focused on specific events in Israeli history. Shavit is covering modern Israel, and gives the reader a sense of the current state of affairs. He investigates the LGBT and club scenes in Tel Aviv, and in the following chapter has a conversation with a Palestinian-Israeli attorney on the occupation. After a very brief chapter on the Second Lebanon War in 2006, he interviews modern industrial leaders in Israel, and contrasts their experience with that of Itzik Shmuli, a leader of the Occupy movement in 2011 (and current member of the Knesset, elected after the book's publication). The penultimate chapter is an in-depth look at the slow, calculated steps to the nuclearization of Iran. In the final chapter, Shavit travels the original path of Herbert Bentwich while reflecting on Israel's amazing feats of existence and modernization, and forecasting its inevitable collapse (hence "Triumph and Tragedy").
I am not qualified to judge Shavit's ominous predictions for the future. It's possible that many who are also well-versed in these topics hold a more optimistic perspective. I wouldn't know. That being said, I am grateful to Shavit for writing this book. It has personality and warmth. It is honest and complex. It is a book that focuses on the questions rather than the answers, which is perfect for someone who can't even effectively pretend to be knowledgeable.
We'll be landing at Ben Gurion International Airport, on the outskirts of Lod (formerly Lydda), on Saturday. 96 hours from now. I'll see you on the other side.
Steve
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