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March 22, 2001

Bizarro World and ‘The Settlers’

Those of us old enough to have been seduced by the pleasures of Superman comic books probably remember Bizarro World, an alternative universe where norms and values were upended and recast: No became yes, ugly was beautiful, cruel was kind. When thrust into this psychotic realm, even the Man of Steel had trouble coping.

One wonders if Superman would find Middle East politics any easier.

Only in the Middle East could a tiny democracy be reviled by ostensibly right-thinking people as an oppressive occupier state, while its neighbors, a host of dictatorships and thugigarchies, are held up as beacons of freedom. Granted, Israel is an imperfect democracy and an often rude society, but for a 50-year-old country — in historical terms, an adolescent — it’s doing pretty well. Go back and read Alexis de Tocqueville’s description of the United States at a similar stage. Given the choice between living in Israel or its neighbors, how many of us would opt for Saudi Arabia or the Sudan, where slavery thrives, the Orwellian nightmare known as Syria, pseudo-parliamentary Egypt or "enlightened" Jordan, where young girls are murdered by their brothers if they act out sexually?

If my experiences as a college student during the late ’60s and early ’70s were any indication, the Bizarro demonization of Israel was no accident. Soon after the Six-Day War (renamed "the 1967 Middle East War" by the Los Angeles Times and other media outlets, presumably to minimize embarrassment to the losers) the Arabs set out to reverse Israel’s military gains by waging a relentless, oil-state-financed propaganda war. At UCLA, this took the form of Libyan and Algerian students who seemed to spend a good deal more time handing out literature and orating in Meyerhoff Park than they did in the classroom. The faces were interchangeable — few of these older-than-average freshmen appeared to enroll for very long — but the tactics remained the same: an onslaught of anti-Semitic buzzwords. My friends at other universities described identical goings-on.

Arab student-propagandists exploited anti-Vietnam War sentiment by affiliating with leftist organizations. What resulted was a constant barrage of anti-Semitic venom printed in the official organs of the Black Panthers, Students for a Democratic Society (SDS), and similar groups, disguised as "solidarity" with the newly minted "Palestinian people." (Prior to the early ’60s, the term "Palestinian" had referred to any resident of the region, including Jews.) Using a well-tested propagandist tactic — Bizarro Irony — hatred of Israel was justified by recasting the Jewish state as the reincarnation the Jews’ worst enemy: Palestinian Arabs became the "Jews of the Middle East," and Israel was now a "fascist, Nazi entity." One of my clearest UCLA memories is attending a speech by Golda Meir and being spat on and reviled as "a Nazi" by a covey of snarling, fair-haired, blue-eyed SDSers picketing Pauley Pavilion because I was wearing a yarmulke. Bizarro Irony continues today, on both extremes of the political spectrum, as the radical left besmirches Israel as a reactionary state and the neo-Nazi Christian Identity proclaims itself the synagogue of true Judaism and denigrates Jews as the bastard spawn of Eve and the serpent.

Bizarro Irony succeeds by raping the language. One revisionist perversity of the ’70s has endured and entered common parlance, even among Jews: the Settler.

Back in the days when Hollywood convinced us that the cowboys were the good guys and the Indians were bloodthirsty savages, "settlers" were viewed as heroic visionaries. When we finally realized that the Wild West didn’t go down quite that way, "settler" began to take on a different connotation.

Settlers were now seen as intruders, usually Caucasian, who invaded the homelands of dark-skinned indigenous people, enslaved the natives and wiped out centuries of noble civilization. Settlers were epitomized by the white, racist regimes of Rhodesia and South Africa. And Israel. For the Arab disinformation machine’s greatest success might very well be the psychosocial pairing of Israelis with the architects of apartheid. This allowed the an oft-repeated mantra to go unchallenged: "The existence of settlements in the West Bank and Gaza are an illegal provocation and an obstacle to peace."

The only problem is, it just ain’t so. The Jewish people who live in the most dangerous neighborhoods of Israel are anything but colonial raiders. They are a continuance of the Zionist dream at its best: the most courageous members of an indigenous people sacrificing personally in order to resettle its ancestral homeland. As such, they deserve to be admired, not marginalized by liberation theologists and anyone else who claims to believe in justice.

The core issue is the right of Jews to live on ancestral soil — or anywhere else, for that matter. Why should the Nazi policy of Judenrein (Jew-free areas) be implemented anywhere in the world, let alone Israel? Does a black person have a right to live in Beverly Hills? Should a Latino or an Asian — or a Jew — be permitted to build a house in San Marino? Sure, the appearance of dark or ethnically unfamiliar faces in any well-entrenched white suburb will be viewed by certain residents as a provocation as well as an obstruction to an ethnically pure way of life. And until very recently, racial segregation was mandated in virtually every region of the United States. Did that make free choice in housing and integration wrong?

Put Arab-financed connotation aside and try some word substitution: How would you feel if some stiff-lipped State Department errand boy intoned, "The presence of Jews and Jewish neighborhoods in parts of Jerusalem and the territories is a provocation and an obstacle to the peace process."

If you agree, you’re saying that a Jewish presence in Brooklyn, Brentwood and Berlin is kosher, but Jews in Bethlehem and Baka are verboten. And if that’s not Bizarro World spiced up by a touch of Joe Goebbels, I don’t know what is.

Mr. Big Lie must be laughing, from whatever dark corner of hell he currently occupies.

Fifty years of Arab propaganda to the contrary, the establishment of the State of Israel was not yet another example of Western colonialism. Israel represents the return of indigenous people to its homeland. As such, it should be admired by the most fervent supporters of liberation theology.


Jonathan Kellerman is the author of 16 novels and five nonfiction books. His latest novel is “Dr. Death” (Random House). He is clinical professor of pediatrics at USC School of Medicine and clinical professor of psychology at USC’s College of Arts and Sciences.

Bizarro World and ‘The Settlers’ Read More »

The Toll of Violence

Friday night, the kids had gone to bed, and we found ourselves in the living room with some long-overdue quiet time. I was reading Tom Segev’s book, “One Palestine, Complete,” a revisionist account of the British Mandate, at a point in the book in which he spells out the seemingly unending cycle of violence between Jews and Arabs in the 1920s and 1930s. I happened to glance up for a moment and saw my wife, Elisheva, reading that morning’s paper. The front page was capped by a large headline, “One Killed in Taxi Bombing.” Two days later, the paper led off with “Three Killed by Suicide Bomber in Netanya.” Bottom line: It’s been about 85 years or so since the British took this place over from the Turks, and nothing much seems to have changed.

The sense that there’s no way out of this has gripped the country and, in a way that is hard to describe, has made it a radically different place than it was even two months ago. Life now feels surreal. The tension is virtually indescribable, the sense of imminent explosion palpable. And no one — at least no one sane — has any idea what to do about it.

We were at a bat mitzvah party about two weeks ago. Early in the evening, a few people organized a minyan for a quick ma’ariv on the side of the hotel lobby. I joined them. No one had siddurim, but most of us knew it by heart, so it didn’t really matter. Halfway through, though, I noticed that a good number of the men were davening off of their PalmPilots, on which they’d saved the texts of ma’ariv. It seemed that I was one of the few without my PalmPilot out, and, I noticed, I was one of the very few without a pistol stuck into the back of his belt. New dress code for Israeli bat mitzvah parties, it seems: dark pants, white shirt, Palm V and a pistol in the back. Thank God it’s still no ties.

That’s Israeli life today: part Europe, with academic, cultural and technological sophistication, part Middle East and Africa, with everyone armed and either willing or eager to fight. Not the place to which we thought we were coming when we made aliyah a few years ago. Last week, late one evening, the house was very quiet, and we were both just about asleep, when the quiet was shattered by a relatively brief burst of gunfire from Beit Jala. Suddenly completely awake, Elisheva said to me, “You know, don’t you, that if this was our sabbatical year, there’s no way we would have stayed.” It was obviously true, but the implications were so far-reaching that I really didn’t know what to say.

Not, by the way, that either of us has regrets. We don’t have a country of our own because people chose not to be here when the going got a bit unpleasant. The place is ours because people stuck it out, and for me, the times that were always hardest to be in the States where when things like this happened. It was at moments like that that I really felt most guilty, and ironically, I think we both feel more committed to staying than we ever have before. But to say that we’re having a grand old time would be a bit too much.

As I look back on the last few weeks, trying to figure out when things changed, I think that the real turning point was the bus murder at the soldiers’ bus stop (the one that Arafat, our “peace partner,” called a “traffic accident”). It was a turning point, not only because more people died in that incident than in any other of recent memory, but because it destroyed many of the assumptions people here had taken for granted.

Assumption: The security guys know what they’re doing, and if they let a Palestinian in to work, they have good reason. Reality: the driver had had his security clearance renewed two weeks earlier, and no one suspected anything. Bottom line: anyone is now a potential terrorist, and we’ve got no way to weed them out.

Assumption: Having your kid in the army these days is no fun, but if your kid is serving inside the Green Line, he or she will be OK. Even the terrorists know the unwritten rule that you don’t “do stuff” inside the green line. Reality: forget the Green Line. Jerusalem, Netanya, the Tel Aviv road are all game. The old rules are no longer.

Assumption: Some girls don’t like being in the army, but at least they know they’re safe. The work may be boring or tedious, and the army may be (i.e., is) sexist, but you can’t get killed if you’re a girl. Reality: six of the eight people killed were young women in uniform, all where they were because they were going back to their bases.

We’d thought — all of us — that we were beyond this. Camp David didn’t work, OK, but how far apart could they really be? Very, it now seems. These days, all bets are off, all the rules are changing. And the most powerful armed force in the Middle East has absolutely no idea what to do. The frustration, even rage, is becoming palpable.

In the midst of all this, we try to remind ourselves that not everything is as it was during the Mandate. History does move forward, even if at a snail’s pace, and this time around, much is different. We’re a sovereign state, Hebrew has been reborn, virtually half the world’s Jews and the majority of Jewish children now live here. Sure, life here is a bit unpleasant and the future uncertain. But as our kids go to bed to the sound of gunfire at night and I wonder how we could have brought them to this, I remember books like Segev’s and realize how far we’ve come. We’ve gotten here because Jews from across the globe chose not to watch history but to make it. Perhaps, I hope, when my kids tuck their own kids into bed under the Jerusalem sky, the history they’ve made will have wrought something very different.


Dr. Daniel Gordis and his family made aliyah from Los Angeles in 1999. He is director of the Jerusalem Fellows program at the Mandel School in Jerusalem, and the author, most recently, of “Becoming a Jewish Parent” (Crown)

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Your Letters

Scott Svonkin

While participating in Super Sunday, as I have most of my life, I was questioned about my comments in an article by Michael Aushenker (“Scott Svonkin: Pulling Together,” Feb. 16). I am grateful to have been included in this series on young leaders, but feel that I need to clarify a few things.

What was left out of the finished article was my discussion of what I have gained from my long and fruitful relationship with The Jewish Federation of Greater Los Angeles.

Thanks to The Federation, I have been a participant in leadership training from the time I was in high school. I went on to join the board of The Jewish Federation/Valley Alliance, was a member of ACCESS and the Jewish Community Relations Committee’s (JCRC) steering committee, and was honored to become the youngest vice-president/chair of the JCRC. To say the least, I owe a great deal to The Federation, for it has played a central role in my decision to turn my passion for helping others into my profession.

I hope this sets the record straight, and I urge everyone to get more involved in their Jewish community. My involvement in The Federation and the Jewish community as a whole has brought me nothing but joy; the best thing I can wish on you is even a small portion of that joy and satisfaction.

Scott Svonkin. via e-mail


Strasser and Smith

It would seem prudent that the largest Jewish newspaper outside of New York should help build our community, not to glorify degenerate and spiritually destructive behavior.

I have put off reading The Journal until after Shabbos because I am constantly offended. This week you replaced the unfortunate and lost Teresa Strasser with a Hugh Hefner clone replete with a pin-up shicksa (“The Fountainhead,” March 9). Gavalt! Do I have to cancel the subscription?

Levi Garbose, Los Angeles


Regarding Sydell Sigel’s nastily worded and narrow-minded letter about Teresa Strasser’s columns (Letters, March 9), I would like to remind this reader that she has a choice: turn the page. If you don’t like these columns, skip them. But don’t deny the rest of The Jewish Journal’s readers the opportunity to read these thought-provoking columns. I don’t always like Strasser’s columns, and quite often I disagree with her premise. But she always makes me think. Thank you for publishing them, and I hope you will continue.

Susan Pasternak, North Hollywood


15th Anniversary

Congratulations on the 15th anniversary of The Jewish Journal. Bravo!

Michael Levine, Los Angeles


Venerable Delis

It must be clear that the underlying purpose of The Jewish Journal is to promote Jewish values and thus preserve the shrinking Jewish community in Los Angeles (“Deli Stories, No Schmaltz,” March 9). In the same vain, G-d set down the laws of kashrut to ensure the continuity of the Jewish nation.

G-d in his infinite wisdom knew that the power of food and drink was so strong that it was a sure way to bring down the Jews’ identity with and loyalty to G-d.

It is clearly evident that The Journal’s disguise of treif delis as being intrinsically Jewish calls into question what really is the paper’s objective. Is The Journal kosher or treif?

David Nisenbaum, Los Angeles


 

I found the picture of the meat sandwich on the March 9 cover terrible. And that’s being polite.

I look forward to The Jewish Journal each week. But when I saw that issue, my stomach, heart and soul became very upset.

Slabs of pink, dead, cooked flesh between two slices of bread is not my idea of the Judaism of life and beauty.

A sandwich whose contents are filled with the agony, suffering and ultimate death of a fellow breath of life is not my idea of celebrating the virtues of Judaism’s heritage and future.

Laurane Leah Ruth, via e-mail


Israel Coverage

The Jewish Journal certainly covers Israel and the so-called situation, but I expect more from our paper. I expect leadership in journalism. We’re getting the same reporting that is available throughout the media. I’m not saying that The Jewish Journal should be biased. I’m saying that our paper should call the war a war. The Palestinians started the war because they didn’t want to make peace. Sharon’s visit to the Temple Mount was an excuse to start the war. If you want a name, call it the Palestinian-Israeli War. Cover the war as a day-by-day report. I know that you’re a weekly, but you can report what happened on day 90, day 91, etc. You get the idea.

Anthony Stroe, via e-mail


School Board Election

I had a negative reaction to Marlene Adler Marks’s column (“Reality-Based Schooling,” March 2). Her nonstop support of a friend who is a candidate for the 4th District LAUSD Board of Education seat was unbecoming of a Jewish Journal writer. Better would have been a paid advertisement for her “reality-based” endorsement.

Also, researching the educational philosophy and accomplishments of the incumbent Valerie Fields would reveal this former LAUSD elementary school teacher’s strong focus on “educating children and improving teacher skills.”

Marion Berkovitz, Woodland Hills


Jewish Journalism

Your historic account of the Jewish press in Southern California is long overdue (“News Machers,” Feb. 23). I thank you.

As a person who’s been involved in community and Jewish activities, an avid reader of community affairs and a writer thereof for a half-century, I have firsthand knowledge and awareness of all Jewish publications, past and present. I must express my strong support of Herb Brin, founder-publisher of the Heritage Southwest Jewish Press, and his talented son Dan Brin.

Herb made journalistic history on various levels through the years; admirably The Journal cited some. His important stories were always nothing short of amazing.

Herb deserves the respect and recognition of the Jewish community for giving so much. Through struggles and tenacity he’s still at it, at the young age of 80-plus years. G-d keep him well.

Margaret Marketa Novak, Beverly Hills


Editor-In-Chief

I miss Gene Lichtenstein. I loved the positions he took and his style of writing. But I must say that if he had to leave, I am more than happy with his replacement. I like Rob Eshman’s positions and his style of writing. Thank you and yeshar ko’ach.

Sid Weinstein, Lakewood

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Doorposts of My House

On the day I came home following lung surgery, I saw God in my front doorway. I have lived in the same two-bedroom, mission-style house in Malibu for 26 years, seeing God mostly in the Passover guise of Elijah. When you’re healthy, you assume God is with you all the time and don’t have to go looking.

But my cancer diagnosis changed everything, including the way I see and what I’m looking for. As I walked up the brick steps, with a broken rib and a fresh 13-inch scar, I eyed with chagrin my weather-beaten door. Yech. I saw spiders in the eves and ruined rain gutters. Nope, no God here.

I could change this, I thought. But how? And that’s when God arrived, wearing sweet sky blue. God was not a person, but a color; not a fact, but a vibration, a Stan Getz solo made visual. If only I could bring a bit of blue into that sullen entryway, the whole place would lift. A grassy green or jade would help, too. Also mauve and bright terra cotta. And a lintel above the entry in deep brown, to define the welcoming space. I imagined my home as it had never been before, dressed up in Spanish tile, featuring budding flowers and wandering vines. I loved it there, and I knew that love was the way I would heal. My heart burst with hope.

What right had I to hope? Cancer is an expensive disease, draining huge chunks of time and money, not to mention enthusiasm. To hire the artist Susan Krieg for my doorway project, I had to dig into capital that would have scared me even during my most productive years.

But God was in this place now. I didn’t care.

Avivah Zornberg, quoting Rashi, talks about the Hebrew concept of mash-heh, the time-stopping moment that comes during a personal crisis. Like a freeze-framed film, this is the moment when a righteous person, terrified and fearing death, can change patterns and live anew.

Perhaps that’s what it was for me. I am an intellectual. I believe in the rational mind and in proof based on verifiable consequence. If painting a doorway could cure cancer, surely oncologists would require it along with updated CT and MRI scans.

But with each visit to my doctors, I face that mash-heh moment in a new way. There’s a limit to what medicine can do if I won’t help it along. Though doctors never write out on a prescription, say, "take up gardening," or "learn piano," the bias is there. They may call it "positive thinking" or "optimism," but every one in medicine knows that health is individual. The passive patient, writes Dr. Bernie Siegel, in his now-classic "Love, Medicine and Miracles," does not help his own case. Visualize yourself as healthy, and you’re halfway there.

It may be rational or intellectual to rely upon lasers and medications for a cure. It’s also foolish. It misunderstands the way that, just as one mitzvah leads to another, one hope leads to the next. This clinging to life in the presence of illness is itself a miracle. In the Passover haggadah we read about the 10 plagues that brought the children of Israel to redemption. Nine of these are given to us gratis, as God toys with Pharaoh into letting the slaves go.

But the 10th plague is different. If the Jews are to be spared the slaying of the first born, they must act to save themselves.

How are the Jewish homes saved? Each Israelite paints his doorpost and lintel with bright red blood. It is a daring act with frightening implications: the Israelites sign up for their own salvation, electing to let God and the neighbors know that even in the darkest times, we insist upon living. The miracle they create is freedom.

Why should it be otherwise for us? Whether we’re fighting cancer or for any form of justice, we have to mean it. We paint our doorposts as a sign that we’re committed, we’ve done our part.

So the doorway is done.

Susan Krieg has painted faux tiles of vines in grassy green and jade. There is bright terra cotta. There is a lintel in deep brown. And there are mauve flowers on a field of sky blue.

Doorposts of My House Read More »

An Intifada Casualty Named Atarot

The Atarot Industrial Park, located at the edge of a Jerusalem Arab village and right on the border of the Palestinian Authority, was meant as a forerunner of the "New Middle East": Arabs and Jews making money together, not war. Coca-Cola, Mercedes-Benz, Israel Aircraft Industries and some 200 other companies opened operations here, about 40 of which were Arab-owned. They employed some 4,000 people, roughly two-thirds of them Arabs from Jerusalem and the West Bank.

That was before the Al-Aqsa intifada broke out in September. Since then two Atarot employees have been shot to death outside the park after work. Another on her way home was shot and paralyzed. Other Atarot employees — Arabs as well as Jews — tell of driving past gunfire to and from the job. Stonings are so common they aren’t considered worth mentioning.

Since October, about 40 companies have abandoned Atarot, and the employee population has gone down by approximately one-quarter, says park manager Ilan Roman. But Jacques Siton, standing on the loading dock of his Odeyah cosmetics company, figures the real attrition rate is more than half. "This place has turned into a ghost town," he says.

Located on the perilous Jerusalem-Ramallah road, the sprawling, 425-acre park’s main entrances have been blockaded to keep out saboteurs. Hundreds of broken windows line the gray and olive-drab buildings facing the park’s perimeter fence. "Rocks, Molotov cocktails," explains security guard Yaron Cohen.

Next door is Atarot Airport, which has been closed during the intifada; the thousands of rocks covering the now-idle runway explain why. Along the rest of the park’s border are the Jerusalem Arab villages of A’Ram, Beit Hanina, Bir Naballah and Atarot, and, sitting on the outskirts of Ramallah, the Palestinian Authority’s Kalandia refugee camp.

A reporter and photographer are met at one of the park’s blockaded entrances by Cohen and his Israeli Army escort Geva, who is wearing a bullet-proof vest; Cohen says he ordinarily wears one, too.

They stop at a bathroom near the perimeter fence and the reporter gets out of the car; Cohen tells Geva to go with him. "Over there is Kalandia," explains Cohen, pointing a couple of hundred yards beyond the fence.

Driving around they see a man who, as the saying goes, looks Arab. Cohen pulls over the van and Geva asks him where he’s from. "Beit Hanina," he replies. "Where do you work?" asks the soldier. "Strauss," says the Arab, referring to the Israeli dairy company. Geva examines the man’s blue Israeli ID card — as distinct from the Palestinian Authority’s orange and green ones. "Have a good day," he says.

Later it turns out that Strauss, which had a storage and distribution facility here, moved out a few months ago when independent truckers told the company they would no longer run the risk of driving in and out of Atarot. Told about this, Cohen turns to Geva. "You see? We screwed up," he says. "From now on, if an Arab tells you he works at a company that’s been closed, you give him straight to the Border Police."

In addition to Border Police jeeps, vehicles of regular Israeli police, Army soldiers and private security companies patrol the park all day and night.

Jewish and Arab businessmen say their friendships have survived the intifada, even if an element of unease has crept in. But among security guards — Jews at Jewish companies, Arabs at Arab companies — all trust seems to have gone. "If an Arab guard offers us a cup of coffee, we won’t drink it," Cohen says. "It could be poisoned."

The Arab-owned Sbitany and Sons electrical appliances company used to have 25 Jewish salespeople working out of Atarot, selling to Israeli retailers. "But after the intifada began they said it was too dangerous for them to keep coming here, so we rented office space in Tel Aviv for them," says deputy general manager Maged Shahwan.

Most Atarot employees commute by company van. "Some are bulletproof, some aren’t," says Roman. Large companies like Israel Aircraft Industries and Wella toiletries can afford bulletproof vests and buses for their employees. "They walk around here like lords," says Siton, noting that public utilities technicians also arrive at Atarot in bulletproof vests.

The Army’s encirclement of Palestinian villages and cities, and its closure of Israel to Palestinians, has obviously placed tremendous obstacles before the bulk of Atarot’s workforce. Some Palestinian employees have special passes to get through Army checkpoints. Others sneak past them. One Atarot worker is said to leave his Hebron home at 3 a.m. and hike over the Hebron hills to get to work in the morning. Still other Atarot employees from the West Bank just stay home.

Arab workers from East Jerusalem don’t have it easy, either. Operating a forklift on Odeyah cosmetics’ loading dock, Jamal Abdallah, who lives near the Mount of Olives and has been working for owner Siton for seven years, notes that with Israeli soldiers checking Arabs so carefully at roadblocks near the industrial park, the tie-up can last as long as two hours. "Sometimes I just turn around and go home," he says.

If there is one business that symbolizes the evolving hopes attached to Atarot, it is probably Hatifei Yerushalayim (Jerusalem Snack Chips), owned by Avi Ben-Ezra, a religious Jew from Rishon Lezion, and Khaled Salah, a Palestinian from Hebron.

Ben-Ezra used to buy snack foods from Salah’s factory, and four years ago they went into business together at Atarot. Employing 15 Arabs from Jerusalem and the West Bank, they produce "Bambalulu," which, according to park manager Roman, is "the best bamba (peanut butter puff) in the Middle East."

Ben-Ezra says, "We’re living out the peace, a religious Jew and a Palestinian together."

Contacted by phone at his home, Salah, who owns 80 percent of the company, tells a less optimistic story. "I haven’t been able to get to Atarot for two months. I can’t get out of Hebron because of the Army’s closure," he says. "That’s why I’m thinking of shutting the company down. You can’t run a business like this."

An Intifada Casualty Named Atarot Read More »

Waiting for Action

Israel seemed to be holding its breath this week in the wake of three Palestinian attacks.

The reaction wasn’t born of fear but rather a sense that the moment of reckoning is at hand as Prime Minister Ariel Sharon returns from his first trip to Washington.

Israel didn’t respond to any of this week’s three serious attacks — on orders, according to reliable sources, from Sharon himself, who was eager to belie his warmonger image when meeting with President Bush and other U.S. officials.

It’s hard to call the six weeks since Sharon’s election a honeymoon — the Palestinians have done their best to fulfill their pledge to greet him with violence — but the sense here is that this was about as warm a reception as Sharon is going to get.

The premier was due back in Israel by the weekend, amid speculation that Israel’s pent-up fury would then be unleashed.

If reprisals do indeed occur, they would be the first manifestation of a toughened reprisal policy under the new government.

If they do not, the inaction may be a clue of Sharon’s intentions — and, perhaps, of how he has been affected by the Bush administration’s calls for restraint.

The first of this week’s attacks took place at Kibbutz Manara on the Israeli-Lebanese border.

Several days after the man responsible for security on the kibbutz, Yitzhak Kvartatz, disappeared, he was found murdered in a nearby riverbed. Manara’s arsenal, which Kvartatz oversaw, had been ransacked, some 60 rifles and handguns stolen.

The Lebanon border fence, just yards away, was not cut, leading investigators to assume that Palestinian or Israeli Arab terrorists were responsible for the attack.

The second attack came Sunday night, when Palestinian militants fired three mortar bombs from the Gaza Strip into Israel in what Israeli security forces described as a grave escalation of the conflict.

The attack marked the first time Palestinians had fired from Gaza into Israel proper — as opposed to Israeli settlements within Gaza — since the violence began nearly six months ago.

An Israeli reserve soldier was lightly wounded by the shells, which landed in an army base next to Kibbutz Nahal Oz.

Israel Defense Force (IDF) sources said the shells came from places in or near Palestinian Authority police installations. The implication is that the shells could not have been fired without the connivance, or at least deliberate indifference, of the Palestinian police, who were ordered an hour before the attack to take cover for fear of Israeli retaliation.

The third attack came the following morning, when an Israeli driver was killed in a drive-by shooting near Bethlehem. After being shot Monday, 58-year-old Baruch Cohen, a resident of the West Bank settlement of Efrat, lost control of his car and hit an oncoming truck.

Israeli officials believe the assailants, who carried out the attack in broad daylight, escaped to Bethlehem, passing at least two P.A. roadblocks along the way.

As with the Gaza mortar attack, Israeli officials said the shooting reeked of Palestinian Authority complicity.

Defense Minister Benjamin Ben-Eliezer said the "finger of guilt" points directly at P.A. President Yasser Arafat.

The IDF responded Monday by reimposing a blockade around Bethlehem. The blockade had just been lifted as part of Sharon’s effort to ease the plight of the Palestinian population.

Avihu Cohen, son of the drive-by shooting victim, blasted the decision to lift the blockade.

"Everyone saw that they lifted the blockade of Bethlehem at midnight. At 5:45" in the morning, "my father was murdered. At 8:00, or close to it, they renewed the blockade. Everyone can draw their own conclusions and speculate what would have happened if the blockade had not been removed," Cohen told Israel’s Army Radio.

On Tuesday, however, the blockade was eased once again, with roads to the south and east of the city opened by the army.

In this case, as in the shelling of Nahal Oz, the prime minister rejected urgent recommendations for reprisals against Palestinian military targets.

Both Sharon in the United States and Foreign Minister Shimon Peres in Jerusalem cited these incidents as proof of Israeli claims that the Palestinian Authority, through its military and paramilitary units, is not just indirectly responsible but directly involved in attacks on Israelis.

Sharon promised in his election campaign to provide greater security for Israel. He will achieve this, he has said, by striking at the Palestinian Authority and its military and paramilitary units rather than by collective acts that hurt the entire Palestinian population.

This explains Sharon’s easing of the blockades imposed on much of the Palestinian territory in recent weeks, which had drawn strong condemnation from the international community and from Western media, especially in Europe.

Aides stressed that the sieges had been in place when Sharon took the reins of power, and it was Sharon who gave orders to ease them.

Though the Palestinians and the international community had demanded that Israel take the first step in reducing the cycle of antagonism, however, the Israeli move was met not with Palestinian goodwill but with a new wave of violence.

Sharon’s aides emphasized the prime minister’s sympathy for ordinary Palestinians, who have been rendered increasingly destitute by the half year of violence. They also insist that Sharon has new, untried tactical ideas to use against terror.

Having swept Sharon into power, the Israeli public is waiting eagerly for the realization of his promise of greater security.

His honeymoon period over and his inaugural Washington visit under his belt, Sharon now faces his first real test as prime minister.

Some observers and leftist opposition legislators say Sharon inevitably will fail because there are no military ways to quell the terror. But most Israelis seem reluctant to accept so bleak an analysis.

After decades spent fighting Palestinian terror, this is Sharon’s chance, they say, to prove that he can do better than the man he replaced as prime minister.

Waiting for Action Read More »

Investing in Dignity

Yang Guinua, age 29, lives with her husband and two children in a tiny, dusty village in Yixian County near Beijing, China. Until two years ago, she was a farmer eking out a bare living with no prospects of a better life. When I visited her in September 2000, she told me that in 1998 she borrowed 1,000 yuan ($122), bought two pigs and raised their piglets, which she sold in her own neighboring villages. With her profits, Yang repaid her first loan, borrowed again and bought more animals. In this manner, she has lifted her family above the poverty line. Yang’s is one of the many remarkable entrepreneurial stories I heard on my recent trip to China. Where did she get the loan? Who would lend money to a dirt-poor woman with no collateral and little hope?

This is the work of the Grameen Bank, a Bangladeshi institution that was started with the sole focus of lending to the poorest of the poor in order to allow millions to raise themselves out of poverty. Today, 24 years later, Grameen Bank has more than 2 million outstanding loans in over 38,000 villages throughout Bangladesh. Grameen-style microcredit programs are operating in some 50 countries around the world and serving an additional 600,000 poor individuals struggling to climb out of impoverished lives to a brighter future. With minor variations to accommodate customs in each nation, loans are made to individuals who form a five-member borrowing group. If one member of the group is delinquent, the others may not be eligible to receive additional loans. No collateral is needed, and the loans are based on character and socioeconomic needs of the group — just the opposite of loans in our Western world where net worth is the primary requirement. The history of loan repayments everywhere is remarkable. In China, for example, 95 percent of loans are repaid.

In the 1980s, the Chinese government initiated large-scale efforts to assist the poor, but its focus on regional development was not moving aggressively towards the stated goal of alleviating poverty, so a shift towards providing funding directly to the poor was needed. Under a communist society, how can you stimulate the individual to take economic risks? Starting in 1995, the Chinese Academy of Social Sciences created a project patterned on the Grameen Bank. Under the Chinese plan, loans start with 1,000 yuan are one year in length and amortized weekly, as is the case with most Grameen programs. The Chinese model states that if you have a net worth of more than 2,000 yuan ($244) you are too wealthy to qualify for these programs, thus keeping the focus on the poorest of the poor. In China, as elsewhere, the loans are made mostly to women.

Women invest their profits into the family by educating their children, improving their household and their community. A wonderful byproduct of lending to women has been their radically improved status both in their families and their communities.

As a part of this commitment, in each country where the Grameen program operates, borrowers pledge to live by certain major principles that will enhance their lives. Some of these 14 principles demanded of Chinese borrowers:

  • Change your outlook on life, be open to change, new ways to learn.

  • Be brave and united, strive to develop yourself, help each other.

  • Get education and training, be creative in marketing.

  • Adopt family planning, keep families small, educate your children.

  • Focus on personal health care, clean toilets, clean water supply.

At weekly meetings borrowers reaffirm their agreement to live by these (and other) life-enhancing principles that may seem obvious to our sophisticated society, but offer a giant leap towards a more productive, healthy life for the rural borrowers.

If we Jews live by the philosophy of tikkun olam, I cannot imagine any effort to “repair the world” more worthwhile than microlending to the poorest of the poor and I feel privileged to be a part of this program.

There is now a worldwide Microcredit Summit Campaign underway that has enlisted several thousand microlenders and hundreds of international development agencies, all working toward a goal of reaching 100 million of the world’s poorest families with microloans by the year 2005. If the goal of the Microcredit Summit Campaign is even approached, it would help hundreds of millions of people raise themselves from lives of despair to the hope of living with some dignity and the ability to provide a decent life for themselves and their children.

In Los Angeles, a Grameen style microenterprise loan program is commencing at a 475-unit apartment project in North Hollywood owned by Volunteers of America. This program will focus on women borrowers, using basically the same lending techniques Grameen has pioneered elsewhere, and we feel confident it will offer the same creative opportunities for many, many families to significantly increase the quality of their daily lives.

Investing in Dignity Read More »

The Age of Coalitions

Two recent events in Washington pointed to some interesting — and potentially troubling — changes in the Jewish political landscape in the new century.

First, the Census Bureau started releasing data from the 2000 survey of the nation. The most dramatic finding: a surging Hispanic population is poised to outnumber African Americans, thanks to a decade-long explosion in immigration.

In the same week, B’nai B’rith held a first-of-its-kind conference with Hispanic groups, and the Foundation for Ethnic Understanding used the event to unveil a groundbreaking survey. The object of both was to probe public policy positions the two communities share and to begin the process of building pragmatic coalitions.

The conference did not produce any dramatic breakthroughs, but it pointed the Jewish community in the right direction.

To maintain the political influence developed during the past 50 years, Jewish leaders will have to become much more energetic and creative in working with the minorities that are taking their rightful place in the American political cosmos.

And to do that, Jews will have to return to a much broader mode of political activism. Support for Israel will remain a vital concern, but Israel alone cannot provide the substance for the kinds of coalitions Jews will need to maintain hard-won political clout.

The plain fact is, Jews are a tiny and diminishing proportion of the U.S. population, while other groups are experiencing dramatic growth.

The Hispanic population, according to the recent census, grew about 60 percent since the last census; the community totals about 35.3 million.

Hispanics aren’t the only group experiencing rapid growth. The Asian community surged 72 percent, bringing the overall Asian population to almost 12 million.

The census does not ask questions about religion, so it has nothing to say about the Jewish population. But other surveys show that there are about 6 million Jews in this country, or about 2.2 percent of the total population. And that proportion has been shrinking, thanks to intermarriage, assimilation and a lower than average birthrate.

In politics, though, the Jewish community is living proof that numbers alone do not predict political influence.

The community’s passion — both on domestic issues and Israel — has generated a potent tradition of activism. Jews have become important players in electoral politics; in the Democratic party, Jewish activism is one of the threads holding the party together.

And affluent Jews, mostly working on behalf of the pro-Israel cause, have become critical funders and fundraisers in both parties, a fact that multiplies the community’s influence.

But other communities, in many cases openly using the Jewish community as a model, are learning the same techniques.

The Hispanic community is much more diverse than the Jewish community, and it lacks the kind of overarching, unifying issue that Jews have with Israel. But Hispanics are increasingly affluent, and they have the advantage of being a genuine "swing" vote, actively courted by both major parties.

Asians have been remarkably successful in educating their children and building a strong economic base.

In the next few decades, these groups and others will solidify their own positions in American political life, boosted by both the kinds of tactics the Jewish community has employed with great success and by their own far greater numbers.

They will build coalitions with each other as well, creating powerful political blocs on issues of common interest.

This doesn’t mean that Jewish power is doomed, but it does mean that our community’s leaders will have to spend much more time and energy bringing their organizations into effective coalitions with these groups.

And those coalitions must be based on mutual support and sensitivity.

It is not enough for Jewish groups to demand concrete support for Israel, then offer just general statements of support for things like civil rights. Increasingly, these groups want specific help with items on their agendas, both domestic and foreign.

The B’nai B’rith conference represented a first step in trying to identify some of the issues that could serve as the nucleus of effective coalitions.

Some of the issues will be easy. Jews, Hispanics, Asians and others have a clear common interest in better immigration and refugee policies, and in better services for new arrivals. All three communities take special care of their elderly and want to maintain important government programs.

Foreign aid is more difficult. Hispanic groups — like African American organizations — are unhappy that foreign aid to the areas they care about the most is a minuscule proportion of the overall budget.

To their credit, some pro-Israel groups have been fighting for an expansion of aid spending globally, even as they work to protect Israel’s huge proportion of it. But it may take more, including active advocacy of aid programs that potential coalition partners care about.

Coalition building in this new and more competitive era will require a high degree of pragmatism.

A majority of Latinos support expanding the use of religious groups to provide health and social services; most Jewish groups oppose the new "faith-based" thrust. That conflict doesn’t mean the two communities shouldn’t be working harder to find other issues on which they agree and to pursue them in a cooperative way.

Local Jewish community relations councils have led the way in reaching out to other ethnic groups and building effective coalitions on the local level. That model has to be expanded in the national arena as the nation becomes more diverse and as other ethnic communities follow the trail to political influence blazed by American Jews.

The Age of Coalitions Read More »

One on One With Antonio Villaraigosa

This is the third in Sheldon Teitelbaum’s series of interviews with the leading mayoral candidates.

Trust current mayoral candidate and State Assembly Speaker Emeritus Antonio Villaraigosa to come up with a uniquely strategic location for his storefront headquarters. True, as the ostensible heart of his Valley constituency, the corner of Van Nuys and Sherman Way is pretty much a no-brainer. But there is something elegantly opportune about the fact that it also sits astride the Valley’s first and, so far, only Krispy Kreme.

Like the parent company, Villaraigosa has been around for quite some time, a “big tent” pol and crusader for consensus whose alliances span a broad gamut of communities and interests, including the Westside libs and the city’s billionaire boys’ club. The one thing he has that Krispy Kreme lacks is the imprimatur of kashrut that he has earned during six years of public service. By virtue of his long-standing support for various Jewish causes and institutions in this city, some regard him as perhaps the race’s most authentic landsman. Not surprisingly, our discussion focused mainly on Jewish themes and issues.

Sheldon Teitelbaum: Been a busy Sunday?

Antonio Villaraigosa: I was at West Angeles Church this morning for a fellowship. I don’t do drive-by fellowships. Most electives, when they go to synagogues or churches, they drop in for a half-hour, get introduced, eat and leave…

ST: What do you do, take out a membership and contribute to the building fund?

AV: No, I just stay the whole time. Beginning to end.

ST: Where do you get your gregariousness?

AV: My mother. Growing up the 1950s and ’60s, my mother had whites, primarily Jews in City Terrace, blacks, Asians, gays over for dinner all the time. She knew everybody. She had a very broad network of friends. She really educated her kids about issues of tolerance and inhumanity. She was a breed apart.

ST: The Journal just ran a piece by our own Marlene Adler Marks in which she appears to have anointed you the “Jewish” candidate of this race. How does it feel to have been co-opted into the tribe?

AV: I think there’s an acknowledgment that in my six years of public life, I’ve worked hard to represent and reach out to the Jewish community. I’m proud of the fact that I put together almost $15 million spearheading state funding for the Museum of Tolerance, $2 million for the Skirball Museum, $2 million for the Jewish Federation building and the Zimmer Museum. I was the author of a hate crimes reporting bill that I worked with many Jewish leaders and other civil rights leaders to require hate crime reporting in our schools. I was the author of a bill to exempt from state taxes Californians who were part of the slave camp legacy during the Nazi Germany years. I have a long history of working in the community.

ST: Apart from bridge-building for political gain, what pulls you to these causes?

AV: I believe that if government is going to work, it’s got to represent all communities. A leader in an L.A. as diverse as this one has to work around the clock to reach out to as many different communities as possible.

ST: Are you trying to appeal to that liberal/progressive bent still reflected in the Jewish urban demographic?

AV: Oh yes. There’s no question that who I’ve been politically has resonated among the more progressive elements in the Jewish community, and not because of my outreach, but my role in the crafting of legislation in the last six years.

ST: Have folks in the Latino community looked askance at this love affair?

AV: No question. I sided and supported [school board candidate] David Tokofsky and was criticized and vilified by some. I said then that we have to get beyond the idea that the only ones who can represent the community are the people who come from the community. We have to support the best candidates, whoever they may be and from whatever community. The same when I supported Bob Hertzberg for [State Senate] speaker. Many people know Bob was my roommate. I said he should be the next speaker because he was the most qualified… after me. There were legislators who were very angry and critical. They thought Latinos had some kind of monopoly on the speakership. I said no, that’s not the way it works.

ST: Speaking of Boyle Heights, I found myself wondering recently if it wasn’t in danger of becoming our answer to Poland — a place with anti-Semitism and no Jews. What is it in the 21st century that would impel a couple of Latino kids to paint a virulently anti-Semitic mural on a wall facing some main thoroughfares?

AV: I think what’s wrong is that there’s an incredible lack of understanding. Only when you remember and educate people of the horrors committed by man against man are we able to learn from those experiences and create a better world for us. It’s important for there to be curricula that focus on human relations and that really work to create the context for the important discussions that need to occur at a very young age emphasizing our humanity and commonality.

ST: I’d remind you that there are communities in this country in which anti-Jewish sentiment became more a problem of the educated than of the working classes and poor…

AV: That’s amazing. It’s hard for me to relate because I grew up in a home diametrically opposed to anything like that. When I did my hate crime reporting bill last year right after the shootings at the North Valley Jewish Community Center, I brought together rabbis, human relations experts and civil rights [leaders]. And I said I’m not interested in doing a big press conference but in something you all think makes sense. They said we needed a statewide human relations commission that works as a clearinghouse and as an infrastructure of human-relations support from the state. And we needed a hate-crimes reporting mechanism that requires our schools to track hate crimes. L.A. Unified and other districts are really not doing a good job of tracking hate crimes. I put both bills together. One wasn’t signed, the other was.

ST: Do you have a sense of the Jewish community as a one-issue demographic?

AV: This community has always been more tolerant than others, but I believe that every community has to continually work to address the bias and intolerance among us. This is something all of us have to work on continually — the stereotypes. I can’t tell you how many times I walk into a place and people say, “‘How come you people don’t speak English?” All of us in the great experiment that I think L.A. is have to continually work to build the bridges. I was part of a Latino-Jewish round table and a black-Latino round table 20 years ago. We need to engage in these conversations about how we build shared communities and focus on the common struggles we have.

ST:I understand that Haim Saban is one of your contributors and supporters. Haim is a stand-up guy. But as someone who has put education as their first priority, what do you tell parents and educators who may regard companies like Saban Entertainment as the anti-Christ?

AV: I don’t accept that thinking. My children have watched his shows, and they’re good kids. If there was a show I didn’t like as a parent, I have the opportunity to turn it off. Haim is a wonderful, generous human being. He is committed to creating a better community for more people here. He sees me as someone who is committed to expanding the definition of public safety to creating a better safety net and improving the quality of life for more people. We have a lot in common, not to mention our shared “Sephardic” background.

One on One With Antonio Villaraigosa Read More »

Draw a Tree, Win a Contest

Guilty. Guilty. Guilty. That’s how the judges of The Jewish Journal’s first Tu B’Shevat Art Contest feel about having to pick just three winners out of so many terrific entries.

The Journal was deluged with drawings from children aged 2-13 throughout the region. Competition was stiff, perhaps because the prizes are so special: each winner will receive a live fruit-bearing tree courtesy of TreePeople. TreePeople founder and director Andy Lipkis donated the trees hoping winners would be inspired to continue the organization’s mission of greening urban spaces and parklands and educating people about the importance of trees (www.treepeople.org).

The judging took place at The Journal’s offices last week. Entries were judged by how well they illustrated this passage: “For we are as trees of the field; this means that our life depends on the trees.

The contest was very close. Thank you to all our contestants — we look forward to seeing what you come up with next year.

Ages 2-5

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Batsheva Lipsker, Age 5, Los Angeles,

Ages 6-9

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Arianna Condon, Age 9. Newport Beach,

Ages 10-13

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Anna Fleischer, Temple Ahavat Shalom,

Age 13, Valencia

Draw a Tree, Win a Contest Read More »