Jewish Guilt

Walking around both Tel Aviv and Haifa, I've been marveling at the fact that they've been able to build really quite beautiful, modern cities--Tel Aviv feels a lot like California--in such a short time. While there were cities here already (in some cases for thousands of years), much of the infrastructure, and much of the society, has been built only since 1948. It's impressive.

But, of course, there is a dark side. These cities weren't empty before 1948. In Hebrew school, I was taught that the Arab leaders told the people living in what was then Palestine to take off for a few days after Israel declared independence, that they'd be able to come back just as soon as the Arab armies pushed out the Jews and put an end to this whole Jewish state idea. And while that may be part of the story, the other part is that the Hagannah, the terrorist group that became the Israeli Defense Force (think about that for a moment), forcibly ejected hundreds of thousands of people. The lucky ones went to places like Lebanon and Jordan, and sometimes farther off. Others stayed closer, either by choice or because they had no choice, and their children and grandchildren are now living in Gaza and the West Bank. Either way, their land was confiscated by the new state, and much of the land in the lovely cities I'm now exploring belonged to them.

This included the family of my friend Hiba, with whom I had dinner in Ramallah the other day, and whose family used to be prominent landowners in Haifa, and my friend Mostafa's parents, who fled Jaffa for Beirut in 1948.

The narrative taught to Jews in North America is one of repeated efforts by both Palestinians and neighbouring Arab states to annihilate the State of Israel, and repeated victories by Israel against this "aggression." Well, what would you do? We took their country! Of course they want to push us into the sea!

I said "we," didn't I? I haven't felt a deep connection to the land or the people or whatever since my arrival here. But I do feel basically at ease, at least in Tel Aviv. And I know that if I were so inclined, I could find my way to whatever government office handles these things, say "I'm here to stay," and they'd welcome me with open arms. OK, I'd have to go through no small amount of red tape to prove my Jewishness (particularly given my gentile name), but I have a right, under Israeli law, to live here. Hiba and Mostafa (and many many others less fortunate than they), whose parents were born and raised here, do not.