Jewish
Frontier

April 17, 2002, Jerusalem, Israeli Independence Day

Today Israelis and Jews around the world should be celebrating the 54th anniversary of the founding of the state of Israel. As is the tradition in Israel, yesterday was the national memorial day for Israeli's fallen soldiers. Although this is always a difficult day for the family members of the over 20,000 Israelis who have been killed while in uniform, this year has proven especially difficult for the entire nation. With the great number of Israeli victims of the intifada — both civilians and soldiers — the number of Israelis who attended funerals of loved ones this year was significant. It was hard to watch the fireworks over Jerusalem last night. Although the celebrations are meant to be a sign of defiance — a refusal to let terrorists ruin our national holiday — it also seemed like some kind of sick joke. As if there were not enough explosions in this region, particularly Jerusalem! Even though we all knew the loud explosions going on all night were only fireworks, I'm certain that I was not the only Jerusalemite waiting for the one explosion that would be followed by the sound of sirens to which we have become all too acclimated.

This year's Independence Day celebrations were filled with pain and irony. Israel has entered the second year of the AI-Asqa Intifada, and prospects for any kind of resolution to the conflict seem dimmer than ever. While in the first few months of the intifada, many Israeli peaceniks could reminisce about the glory days of Oslo and reflect on "how close we were" at Camp David, that all appears as ancient history now. After the terror attacks during Passover, followed by the Israeli army's reoccupation of the West Bank, peace has never felt further away, and not merely as some kind of intellectual critique of the political situation but on a viscerally emotional level experienced by both Israelis and Palestinians. One does not need to read opinion polls to sense how much Palestinians and Israelis now despise each other. We live in that boiling cauldron of rage every day, born of Israelis too scared to ride public buses and Palestinians in fear of the next IDF incursion into the supposedly autonomous Palestinian "Area A."

It is still quite amazing how successfully the right wing has succeeded in gaining political power and attaining virtual hegemony over the Israeli politicial spectrum. During the 2001 Barak-Sharon race, the Labor Party ran a controversial ad, an hypothetical fictional newscast following Ariel Sharon coming to power. The campaign ad, which seemed sensational at the time, suggested a future in which ultra-right wingers Avigor Liberman and Rehama Ze'evi would find themselves invited to become part of the Israeli cabinet, and Israel would suffer wave after wave of terrorist attacks, the army would recapture sections of the West Bank under Palestinian control. The item that drew the most attention, however, was the army instituting an emergency call-up of reserve soldiers. Reflecting on this ad over a year later, it is hard to believe that each of these "shockers" has long since become a reality. The only significant gap in the dire newscasts was the participation of Labour party in the fantasy scenario with which it had sought to scare the Israeli public.

After a year of continual humiliation, claiming it has been, if anything, restraining the right-wing militaristism of Sharon and other cabinet hawks, the Labor party leadership reminds me of a battered spouse. It threatens to leave if things get any worse but is ignored because the threats go empty. Meanwhile the abusive spouse continues to wreak havoc. The pseudo-dovish Labour Party claims the important cabinet positions of Foreign Minister (Shimon Peres) and Minister of Defense (Benjamin "Fuad" Ben-Eliezer), but the party and its leaders have remained virtually mute for at least the past month, if not longer. Perhaps even Peres and Fuad have finally abandoned the delusion that their presence in the cabinet has any moderating effect on Sharon's bloodthirstiness. Surely everyone else in Israel has long given up on the Labor party. Since the escalation over Passover — the Netanya seder bombing; the attacks in Jerusalem, Haifa, and Tel Aviv; and finally the IDF's Operation Defensive Shield — Fuad and Peres have held their peace. Perhaps they finally realized that no one was listening to what they have been saying anyway.

While sitting in Jerusalem on the anniversary of the creation of the state, strange feelings have gathered around the news of antiSemitic attacks throughout Europe and the acts of vandalism against synagogues in even Canada and Australia. Here I am in Jerusalem, the sovereign capital of the Jewish state that nonetheless seems under siege. The sight of soldiers on street corners or roadblocks on random roads is no longer surprising. Virtually every commercial establishment — restaurant, supermarket, movie theater — now has at least one security guard checking everyone at the entrance. On a daily basis every Jerusalemite reassesses the situation and decides what risks are worth taking over the course of the day. Is it a good day to visit the bank downtown or better to wait until next week? Should I do my shopping at a small store that is unlikely to be a target or at the shopping mall, which although the more obvious target has far more security in place? How many days has it been since the last attack? Does that mean today there is more or less of chance to be another? Whenever there is an attack, everyone goes on high alert, presumably making it harder for the would-be bomber to reach the target. But then again, these attacks come in waves, so who knows if the next wave is not on its way? And when there is a relatively calm period (in this town a full week without an attack seems like a long time), then maybe things are finally improving. Or then again, maybe they aren't, and we are growing dangerously complacent.

To varying degrees, these are the thoughts that hold every Jerusalemite hostage every morning before leaving the house. Every individual seems to set different personal limits. Some refilse to step foot on Yaffa Street or the Machaneh Yehuda; others try to beat the bombers, reducing their risks by shopping on weekdays instead of Friday afternoon or frequenting restaurants on any other night but Saturday. Indeed, many Israelis now refuse to set foot in Jerusalem, while a few defiant ones insist on eating at their favorite restaurants and cafes, as a way to prove the terrorists have not stopped them from living as they would.

The cycle of violence has indeed spun out of control. Militants and hatemongers, who now wield much more power in the Israeli government and have come to exert a far greater influence on public opinion in the Israeli and Palestinian street, keep raising the level of violence while the international community fails to intervene. The most painful and lasting results of the escalation of the conflict will have been the planting of the seeds of hatred in another generation on both sides. While in the 1990s, caught up in the hope and excitement of the Oslo Accords that peace might just be around the corner, there were numerous attempts at dialogue — bringing groups of Palestinians and Israeli Jews together. This sort of activity has stopped completely. Both sides are too busy burying their dead to waste time on sympathy or understanding. Even if there were time, the divide has grown too great to bridge.

Every Independence Day, there is an annual national candle-lighting ceremony on Mount Herzl. This year 4,000 people attended, accompanied by 1,000 security personnel. I did not attend the official celebration. Instead, I participated in an alternative candle-lighting ceremony sponsored by Yesh Gvul, the organization of Israeli soldiers who refuse to serve over the Green Line. This ceremony, held under Israeli flags across from the Prime Ministers Office, honored those who I have come to see as the real Israeli heroes: social activists working to make Israel live up to the lofty ideals of equality and social justice inscribed in its Declaration of Independence over half a century ago. Unfortunately the state of Israel has a long way to go. And yet seeing these social activists working to end the occupation of the West Bank and religious coercion of the Orthodox rabbinate, fighting for equality and civil rights for Israeli Arabs, struggling to eliminate discrimination againsts women, gays, and lesbians gives me hope that despite the dire situation in which Israel finds itself, there is a glimmer of possibility. As long as there are people who believe in the vision of Israel as an embodiment of social justice and equality, and as long as these people are willing to put in the hard work to make this vision come true, then there is hope that this dream can come true.

Jared Matas is former secretary general of Habonim Dror North America.