Fouad Ajami on Nasrallah and Lebanon

A good analysis of Nasrallah's miscalculations by Fouad Ajami in the WSJ yesterday, pointing the root of the problem:

That raid into Israel, the capture of the two Israeli soldiers, was a deliberate attack against the new Lebanon. That the crisis would play out when the mighty of the G-8 were assembled in Russia was a good indication of Iran's role in this turn of events. Hassan Nasrallah had waded beyond his depth: The moment of his glory would mark what is destined to be a setback of consequence for him and for his foot soldiers.

Nameless War

The current war is still nameless.

Israel's first war was aptly named the War of Independence, as it erupted with Israel's declaration of independence on May 14, 1948. The Six Day War was obviously named post mortem. The Yom Kippur War was named after the day it started, the holiest day of the Jewish year (although the Arab world prefers to call it The October War). The Lebanon War was the second name given to the 1982 Israeli invasion of Lebanon; originally it was called Peace for Galilee but as Israel mired itself deeper and it became achingly obvious that peace in the Galilee was no longer the aim, the name was changed.

So what to call the current war? Some suggest to call it the "ad kan" war, after Olmert's words in his speech to the Knesset this week, when he banged his fist on the podium and exclaimed "no more" or "this is where we draw the line" in Hebrew. The Israeli poet Haim Hefer suggested to call it simply "boom". (Side note: I've never liked Hefer's poems; isn't it obvious now why?)

My suggestion is to name it after the day it started, which was the 17th of Tammuz in the Jewish calendar (July 13th, 2006). Appropriately, the 17th of Tammuz is a day of fasting, in remembrance of several tragedies that befell the Jewish people over the ages, most notably the breaching of Jerusalem's walls during the siege of Nebuchadnezzar in 586 B.C.E. which eventually brought to the destruction of the First Temple.

An Instance of the Fingerpost, by Iain Pears

Reading a book recommended by a friend is almost always guaranteed to be a pleasant experience. And so was this one. I had never heard of Iain Pears until a couple of weeks ago, when a colleague of mine from work mentioned him over dinner. He described how moved he was by Pears' writing, so I decided to give it a try. On the way back from the restaurant we stopped at the wonderful Barnes & Noble store in Burlington, MA, and I picked up a copy of An Instance of the Fingerpost. (Yes, I know, the title made zero sense to me at the time as well.)

The book is a murder mystery novel. It is set in 17th century England and recalls events that happened in Oxford shortly after the Restoration of Charles II to the monarchy in 1660. The events are told in the form of four memoirs, two of which are by real historic characters (John Wallis, mathematician and cryptographer and Anthony Wood, historian and antiquary). The book is laced with historic events and people, and Mr. Pears kindly provides an index at the end of the book to help the reader distinguish between real and fictitious characters and give a short biography of the real ones.

Dr. Grove, a dean at Oxford university, is found dead in his chambers after being poisoned by arsenic. Signs point to Sarah Blundy, a servant girl who used to work for Dr. Grove. Sarah is found guilty and is hanged in public. But obviously this is only the beginning of the true story and as the plot unfolds, events much greater than a simple poisoning are revealed, some truly shocking. The ending is quite surprising, always a good thing with a mystery novel.

The author provides a fascinating look into life in academic Oxford in the age of the great scientific, medical and mathematical discoveries. Characters in the novel include such luminaries as the philosopher John Locke and the chemist Robert Boyle. It is laced with discussions on philosophy, theology, medicine and mathematics, such discussions taking place between the "men of curiosity" of that epoch. It is enlightening to witness how much religion played part both in politics and in science in those days, permeating all walks of life and defining the relationships between Protestants, Catholics and Quakers.

Pears writes beautifully with many insights into human nature and desires. The following passage struck me as particularly powerful, describing Anthony Wood's thoughts when faced with the insurmountable task of going through all the manuscripts in the libraries of Oxford to do his work. I am often struck with the same thought when I realize the number of books I will never get around to reading in my lifetime:

It is cruel that we are granted the desire to know, but denied the time to do so properly. We all die frustrated; it is the greatest lesson we have to learn.

This book has been compared to The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco. That's a fair comparison but I find Pears' writing to be more flowing and more "human", indeed more moving, than Eco's.

The Way We War

Out of boredom, I picked up a copy of the International Herald Tribune at Charles de Gaulle airport today. There was an op-ed piece (reprinted from NYT) by Etgar Keret, an Israeli writer. He describes rather succinctly that "warm and fuzzy" feeling Israelis are now feeling about the military campaign in Lebanon, a feeling that was mentioned by one of the commenters in my previous post.

Here's the piece, in case the link doesn't work:

The way we war
Etgar Keret

TEL AVIV Yesterday I called the cable people to yell at them. The day
before, my friend told me he'd called and yelled at them a little, threatened to switch to satellite. And they immediately lowered their price by 50 shekels a month (about $11).

"Can you believe it?" my friend said excitedly. "One angry five-minute call and you save 600 shekels a year."

The customer service representative was named Tali. She listened silently to all my complaints and threats and when I finished she said in a low, deep voice: "Tell me, sir, aren't you ashamed of yourself? We're at war. People are getting killed. Missiles are falling on Haifa and Tiberias and all you can think about is your 50 shekels?"

There was something to that, something that made me slightly uncomfortable. I apologized immediately and the noble Tali quickly forgave me. After all, war is not exactly the right time to bear a grudge against one of your own.

That afternoon I decided to test the effectiveness of the Tali argument on a stubborn taxi driver who refused to take me and my baby son in his cab because I didn't have a car seat with me.

"Tell me, aren't you ashamed of yourself?" I said, trying to quote Tali as precisely as I could. "We're at war. People are getting killed. Missiles are falling on Tiberias and all you can think about is your car seat?"

The argument worked here too, and the embarrassed driver quickly apologized and told me to hop in. When we got on the highway, he said partly to me, partly to himself, "It's a real war, eh?" And after taking a long breath, he added nostalgically, "Just like in the old days."

Now that "just like in the old days" keeps echoing in my mind, and I suddenly see this whole conflict with Lebanon in a completely different light.

Thinking back, trying to recreate my conversations with worried friends about this war with Lebanon, about the Iranian missiles, the Syrian machinations and the assumption that Hezbollah's leader, Hassan Nasrallah, has the ability to strike any place in the country, even Tel Aviv, I realize that there was a small gleam in almost everyone's eyes, a kind of unconscious breath of relief.

And no, it's not that we Israelis long for war or death or grief, but we do long for those "old days" the taxi driver talked about.

We long for a real war to take the place of all those exhausting years of intifada when there was no black or white, only gray, when we were confronted not by armed forces, but only by resolute young people wearing explosive belts, years when the aura of bravery ceased to exist, replaced by long lines of people waiting at our checkpoints, women about to give birth and elderly people struggling to endure the stifling heat.

Suddenly, the first salvo of missiles returned us to that familiar feeling of a war fought against a ruthless enemy who attacks our borders, a truly vicious enemy, not one fighting for its freedom and self-determination, not the kind that makes us stammer and throws us into confusion.

Once again we're confident about the rightness of our cause and we return with lightning speed to the bosom of the patriotism we had almost abandoned. Once again, we're a small country surrounded by enemies, fighting for our lives, not a strong, occupying country forced to fight daily against a civilian population.

So is it any wonder that we're all secretly just a tiny bit relieved? Give us Iran, give us a pinch of Syria, give us a handful of Nasrallah and we'll devour them whole. After all, we're no better than anyone else at resolving moral ambiguities. But we always did know how to win a war.

Etgar Keret is the author of "The Nimrod Flip-Out." This article was translated by Sondra Silverstone from the Hebrew.

Lies, Lies and More Lies

The saying goes: when the cannons speak, the muse falls silent. Listening to the various official statements in the media, it seems that not only the muse but all common sense falls silent. Let's examine some of the "truths" we are being told:

We are fighting to get the kidnapped soldiers back. Nothing could be further from the truth. If getting the soldiers back was genuinely the top-most item on the government's agenda, Israel would be negotiating with Hezbollah for their release. Just as it did to release the shady Tenenbaum and three corpses only a couple of years ago.

Our aim is to crush Hezbollah. Right, just like we crashed the PLO in Lebanon in the 1980s. The sad truth is that the current military campaign will succeed only in bringing about another lull in the war between Israel and those bent on destroying it. Until the next time. The objective is making this interim period of relative peace as long as possible, no more.

The air campaign is effective. The truth is that no military campaign can be won from the air and both the IDF and the government know this. Israel is afraid to send troops into Lebanon because Israeli public opinion will not tolerate the mounting toll of casualties, especially as time will go by with no definitive "crushing" of Hezbollah.

The people are behind us. This is true, but only partly and only for a short time. Olmert and his colleagues know that if missiles keep falling on Israeli cities for much longer, popular support will erode and people will demand either firmer action (which is not possible) or a settlement.

The world is behind us. This is not even partly true. Yes, the US agreed to supply us with that most precious resource, jet fuel, but if fighting prolongs then not only the world but also the US will start pressuring Israel to settle. Suddenly, supplies of jet fuel will become harder to get by.

We will establish a security zone in Lebanon without IDF's presence. This is the latest gem from Peretz. Perhaps someone should hand him a book about the history of the Israeli-Lebanses border and the outstanding role of UNIFIL there over the decades.

And the list goes on, but I think the point is clear. The thrill of the first days of war is blocking all common sense and clear vision. No worries, things will become familiarly and bitterly clearer quite soon. Israelis, as I wrote earlier, have very short memories. This has always been perplexing to me, especially as Jews carry thousands of years of history on their backs. But this is a subject for a different post.

Empty Threats

For years, Israelis viewed Arab rhetoric as empty threats. Palestinian terrorist groups threatened with "mega-attacks", Saddam Hussein promised that half of Israel will burn like a dry fig leaf, Nasrallah told Israel to "bring it on", and so on and so forth. It was widely understood and accepted that the lion roar will turn into a mouse squeak.

Now it seems the Israeli government has adopted the same farcical strategy. Minutes after Gilad Shalit was kidnapped in Gaza, government officials threatened that life in Gaza will become unbearable. Today the Chief of Staff, speaking after the disastrous events in the north, warned that Lebanon would be set back "twenty years" if the kidnapped soldiers are not promptly returned. Not only Israelis, but sadly also most of the Arab world, know that these are nothing but empty threats.

It is time for Israel's government to put its actions where its mouth is, or else shut up.

Criminal Fauna

The Economist's latest briefing about Tokyo has the following story:

Crow-barred

The capital's increasingly aggressive jungle crows have become inadvertent cyber-criminals, denying thousands of Tokyoites broadband access. It turns out that fibre-optic broadband wires are perfect material for their nests, and can be dislodged from junction boxes with a well-judged peck. NTT and Tepco, the principal providers of fibre-optic cable in Tokyo, have reported sharp surges in vandalism committed by crows, who have no such success with the copper telephone and electricity cables that criss-cross the skyline.

The crows' rising boldness must be a disappointment to Shintaro Ishihara, Tokyo's governor, who declared war on the birds some five years ago, but has watched their numbers more than quadruple since. Even if the crows are somehow dissuaded from their destruction, the attacks on broadband access are expected to continue. Cicadas have discovered that fibre-optic cable is the ideal place to lay eggs, and have been staking out breeding grounds on the telegraph poles.

In Tokyo, one of the most-populated cities in the world, the worst vandals are still crows and cicadas, not humans...

Zidane - Sic Transit Gloria Mundi

The Talmud says that there are people who "buy their entrance ticket" to the afterworld in "one hour", meaning that one good deed can turn around a person's destiny. Tonight, in the world cup final, one of the greatest players of all times, Zinadine Zidane, demonstrated that it is possible to do just the opposite.

In one moment of anger Zidane brought his football career to a shameful end, butting his head against an Italian player and getting sent off. Instead of being remembered for his wonderful, long career, he will be remembered as the team captain who could not control his temper minutes from the end of the world cup.

And justice was done. Italy won!

Panic: Flying Tubes

Following up on a previous post, consider if you will these two pictures:

The first picture is of a kassam rocket that landed some time ago in the Negev. The second is of the kassam rocket that landed in a school yard in Ashkelon a couple of days ago. Look closely. In the first picture, you see that the rocket does not explode (as is usually the case); it merely hits the ground and bends. In the second picture you see the damage caused by the rocket: a couple of Ackerstein blocks are broken.

My point is: these "rockets" are pretty harmless unless they fall directly on your head. Can they cause injury? Yes. Can they cause fatalities? Of course. But the likelihood of either is small, as the statistics clearly show. However, listening to the accounts in the media and to the dramatic scenarios by the politicians, one is led to believe that kassams are a little short of mini nuclear devices.

So am I saying that there are no problems with the kassams? No, I'm not. Yes, Israeli cities living under the threat of daily bombardments is an unacceptable situation (and I support the military actions taken in Gaza). Yes, the citizens of Sderot, Ashkelon and other southern cities have all the right in the world to demand that the government solve the problem. And yes, under the same circumstances I would most likely react the same way.

But a little proportion is in order. Panicking in face of these flying tubes may be a natural reaction, but it also sends a clear message of how easy it is for two-bit terrorists to terrorise the Israeli population. Perhaps some history lessons about the behaviour of London's citizens during WW2 is in order.

Why I Hate Soccer

Yes, I watched the game last night. I promised myself I would watch only the semifinals and the final. Or at least try to...

What happened was I watched the first 90 minutes but when the regular time ended at 0-0 and it looked like this game, like many others before it, will be won by penalty kicks, I decided to call it a night. Waking up this morning to read that Italy won by scoring two goals in the last couple of minutes, reminded me of how much I hate this game.

Does one need to sit through 120 agonising minutes of boredom in the hope that something dramatic will happen (as it did yesterday), knowing that the chances of drama are close to nil? I'm no soccer expert, but something must be done about the rules of this game to make it more interesting. I know cricket and baseball are much more boring, but they were designed to be so from the beginning. Soccer, on the other hand, used to be an interesting sport. In my youth in Italy I distinctly remember soccer that was a pleasure to watch. Now, with all these "advanced defence techniques" and ubiquitous fouling, I find myself dozing off minutes into the game. What a waste of time!

The only good news is that Germany lost. (It may be unpolitically correct to say so, but it does warm the heart to watch Germans weep...)

Forza Azzurri!

Short Memory and Mass Hysteria

The reaction of the Israeli media, the Israeli public and particularly the Israeli right, to the kidnapping of Gilad Shalit by the Hamas and to the continued firing of rockets from Gaza into Israeli territory, provides an interesting lesson in the collective psychology of our nation. Shimon Peres was practically ostracized for daring to draw the obvious conclusion from this behaviour: it is nothing short of mass hysteria. Over and again, Israelis prove that they have a very short memory.

Here are a couple of examples of the "truths" we are told these days:

Shalit's kidnapping is proof the IDF should never have left Gaza. Kidnappings of Israeli soldiers (and civilians) have happened before, not only from territories we were in control of, but from within Israel itself! Nachshon Waksman was kidnapped in the West Bank when the IDF was in full control; Benny Avraham, Omar Souad and Adi Avitan were kidnapped from northern Israel and taken to Lebanon; and only last week, Eliyahu Asheri was kidnapped (and later murdered) from a bus-stop in Jerusalem.

The continued firing of Kassam rockets proves the IDF should never have left Gaza. Right, just as the shelling of northern Israel by Katyusah rockets for years while Israel occupied southern Lebanon is proof we should have never left Lebanon. Not to mention that Gush Katif settlements in Gaza were bombarded daily by rockets - thousands in a period of two years - while the IDF was in full occupation of Gaza.

Perhaps the most telling indication of this mass hysteria is the psak halacha (religious edict) issued by prominent rabbis, among them the Chief Rabbi of Israel, that forbids hitchhiking. It followed the kidnap and murder of Asheri last week. Written in the traditional flowery language of such edicts, the rabbis go to great lenghts to explain why the Torah forbids hitchhiking as part of the general rule of avoiding danger and taking care of oneself. One would think that after hundreds of Israelis were killed and thousands maimed for life in terrorist attacks against buses and shopping malls within Israel, the rabbis would have long ago used the same logic to forbid bus rides and shopping. But they didn't. Rather, they rode the waves of mass hysteria and short memory to speak out now against hitchhiking.

To me, these are all signs of the general "tiredeness" that is permeating Israeli society. Most Israelis are fed up with the way Israeli governments have handled the Israeli-Palestinian conflict and with the "no light at the end of the tunnel" situation. This normal reaction of a healthy people, that wants to lead a normal life, is translated by eye-rolling politicians and rabbis as a sign of weakness. The mass hysteria over a few flying tubes of metal that caused no fatalities thus far (compared with the dozens of fatalities of Israeli soldiers yearly when the IDF was occupying Lebanon or Gaza!) is understandable; after all, terrorism is exactly about that: instilling terror. My criticism is not against the people of Sderot and Ashkelon. I would have reacted in the same manner, if not worse, were a rocket to land in my son's school. My criticism is against vast majority of the political leaders and the mass media, who instead of putting matters into the right perspective, prefer to get carried away with populist scaremongering and visions of doom. Instead of leading they prefer to be led.

Yitzhak Rabin was right. He arrived at the conclusion that the sooner we strike an agreement with the Palestinians the better, even at the supposedly high "cost" of losing most of the lands occupied in 1967. He understood that Israeli society, like other societies in democratic countries, is no longer willing to put up with the unbearable costs associated with the occupation of territories where Jews are vastly outnumbered, and all in the name of nationalistic ideals that may be historically and morally correct, but defy basic reason given the possible realistic outcomes. He did not delude himself (like most of his left-wing supporters did) that the Palestinians love us; he understood the terms of the agreement need to ensure a state of non-belligerency and that it would take generations to reach a semblance of "peace". Unfortunately, his so-called "followers" (Kadima and their likes) have yet to come to the same realization.

Chukat - Not by Might, Nor by Power

ויפנו ויעלו דרך הבשן, ויצא עוג מלך-הבשן לקראתם הוא וכל-עמו, למלחמה אדרעי. ויאמר יהוה אל-משה, אל-תירא אתו, כי בידך נתתי אתו ואת-כל-עמו, ואת-ארצו; ועשית לו כאשר עשית לסיחן מלך האמרי, אשר יושב בחשבון

(במדבר כ"א, ל"ג-ל"ד)

At the end of parashat Chukat the conquest of the Promised Land begins. Finally, after almost 40 years of wanderings in the desert, the people of Israel under the leadership of Moshe begin fulfilling the divine promise by conquering the eastern part of Eretz Israel (what is today Jordan).

After defeating Sichon, king of the Emorites, the people of Israel are faced with a new threat: Og, king of Bashan, deploys his army and ventures out to meet this nomadic people that dared challenge his land. And this is how the Torah tells it:

And they turned and went up by the way of Bashan; and Og the king of Bashan went out against them, he and all his people, to battle at Edrei. And God said unto Moses: "Fear him not; for I have delivered him into thy hand, and all his people, and his land; and thou shalt do to him as thou didst unto Sihon king of the Amorites, who dwelt at Heshbon."

(BaMidbar, 21, 34-35)

How surprising. Moshe, who is well awaer of God's promise to give the land to the people of Israel and who has just defeated an enemy no less powerful than Og, is so afraid of the upcoming battle that God needs to reassure him that all will be well? We would have expected the people, perhaps following in the footsteps of the ten spies, to fear the army of Og, but Moshe? What is it in Og specifically that scares Moshe so?

The Midrash tells us that Og, the giant, had special merits. He survived the flood (by hanging onto Noah's ark), but more importantly, he is the palit (refugee) that alerted Avraham and told him about the capture of Lot in Soddom. This brute king is not just another enemy. Moshe, knowing his history, is afraid that Og's good deeds in the past will work in his favour and is therefore afraid of losing this battle. Hence the reassurances from God's side.

The same Midrash continues and tells us of how the actual "battle" was fought. Og picked up a mountain the size of the encampment of Israel, and threatened Moshe with it. Moshe and Israel prayed to God and small bugs ate up the mountain from the inside, causing it to crumble on top of Og, thus trapping the giant. Moshe then fell the giant with a one precise hit aimed at his ankle (I guess this the Jewish version of Achille's Heel...).

If we look at this story not literally but symbolically, Og was beaten not by military force but by spiritual force. It was by the prayer of Israel that Og's might (the mountain) was destroyed from within. Moshe had to deal with whatever merits Og had by fighting back with superior merits, the force of true prayer. The lesson learnt here is that the war fought against the inhabitants of the Land of Israel cannot be won by sheer force. However strong Israel's army might be, if it does not attain and maintain higher moral and spiritual standards compared with the enemy, it will not win. Once these higher standards are reached, then, and only then, can the use of force be successful. In the words of the prophet: "Not by might, nor by power, but by My spirit, said the Lord of hosts" (Zechariah, 4, 6).

May this lesson of Moshe's fight against Og be a lesson for our generation as well.

Toulouse, France

This was a busy travelling week. On one of the days I had breakfast alone in Frankfurt, lunch with a customer in Lisbon and dinner with a friend in London.

I also spent a day in Toulouse for a meeting at Airbus, the aircraft manufacturer that has recently run into trouble following the announcement of delays in the new "super jumbo" (A-380) delivery. I saw the A-380 take off and land a couple of times at Toulouse and it's a veritable monster. I find it difficult to understand who would want to travel together with more than 500 people. Surely the waiting time for boarding or collecting baggage will be insufferable.

Anyway, despite my very short stay-over in "Airbusville" (as Newsweek called Toulouse this week), I had a few hours' spare time to take a stroll around the city. Toulouse is apparently the 4th largest city in France and is famous for the pinkish hue of its buildings. I came across the St. Etienne cathedral and ventured inside, thinking it would be just another cathedral. The entrance did not look too impressive, but the inside turned out to be quite interesting. Unlike other cathedrals, this one is a collection of several buildings built in different periods, so it is not as symmetric and well-proportioned as others. Standing in the middle of this huge edifice gives a nice perspective into the different building styles.

Another impressive landmark in Toulouse is the main square, the "Capitole". The building, which serves as the city hall, is magnificient, as are the proportions of the square itself. The game between Italy and Australia just ended and a few Italian fans filled the square, brandishing huge tri-colour flags and being generally very loud about their team's triumph. I refrained from reminding them that they only barely won in the last few seconds of the game, and that only thanks to an penalty kick for a foul that never happened. Something told me they were not in the mood for a dose of truth...

The weather was rather hot, but as the day was waning, it cooled off and the streets filled up with people. Suprisingly (this being France) most people were smiling and seemed rather friendly. Which reminded me of an incident a few weeks ago in Paris. I was having dinner with three distinguished businessmen from a company we work with, together with my boss (an Israeli-American). As the wine flowed and the conversation veered off business, my boss mentioned that he once took a holiday in France. And then he said: "actually, when I was driving around France, the people were very nice and friendly, unlike in Paris!" There was an awkward silence before he realized what he had said in the company of three Parisians... Just as with the Italian fans mentioned above, this was another example of a situation where one should remain silent rather than blurt out the truth.

Praying for Gilad Shalit

Together with everyone in Israel I am praying for the swift return home of Gilad Shalit ben Aviva, who was kidnapped this morning by Palestinian terrorists in Gaza.

May God keep him safe and healthy and return him to his family soon.

Nihilistic Soccer

I guess I need to post something about the World Cup, a.k.a. Mondial. But I'm not prepared to write more than a few sentences on the subject.

So I refer you to this piece from The Daily Standard, which aptly summarises my feelings about the game.

PS - I'm guessing that this team will win. However, the team that should win is this one.

Difference Between Women and Men

Why go through the effort of reading the verbose "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" to understand the differences between men and women, when you can get to the bottom of things by watching two and half minutes on Saudi TV ?

Flag-Gate

Never mind the daily rocket attacks on Sderot. Never mind the quasi-civil war raging in the Gaza strip. Never mind the thousands of Palestinians on the brink of starvation as a result of their intransigent government's policies. Foremost on the daily agenda of the media in most of the Arab-Muslim world is none of the above. It is John Painstil, the Ghanian soccer player that dared wave the Israeli flag after his team scored against the Czech Republic. Painstil plays for a soccer team in Tel Aviv and said he did it to please his friends and fans back in Israel.

The uproar was such that Painstil later apologized for his misdeed. The spokesperson for the Ghana team said the gesture was "based on sheer naivety" and added that Painstil is being offered special therapy to ensure he "overcame his current state of mind"...

Israelis (and Jews worldwide) reacted to the admittedly exaggerated reaction in the Arab world with nothing but contempt and disdain. I'm wondering how these "shocked" observers would have reacted had Painstil waved a Palestinian flag instead of an Israeli one.

I have a different take on this "flag-gate" episode. Call me cynical, but perhaps this whole gesture was nothing but a shameless self-promoting marketing tactic, designed to boost Painstil's standing in the eyes of his Israeli employer? You see, the flag Painstil waved is one of millions issued on occasion of Israel's independence day last month by Israel's leading bank, the HaPoalim bank. The team Painstill plays for is HaPoel Tel Aviv. Need I elaborate further on this "apparent" coincidence? I dare not.

Shelach - The Will of God (cont.)

Last year, I posted this thought for parashat Shelach. That post generated a small debate with Jameel today - see the comment section there.

More interestingly, this shabbat I read a commentary by rabbi Avigdor Neventzal ("rabbi of the old city of Jerusalem") for Shelach that was surprisingly similar to the one I heard a couple of years ago from rabbi Amnon Bazak. Surprisingly, because rabbi Neventzal is known for his hard-line right-wing approach, and yet does not hesitate to pose questions regarding the interpretation of "the will of God" in the story of the meragelim and the applicability to today's political debate.

(This would be a good place to recommend rabbi Neventzal's "talks" on the weekly parasha, published in a five-book set.)

Voodoo Judaism

Those who know me, know how much disdain I have for "voodoo Judaism", regrettably so rampant in Israel today: incessant dippings in the mikveh, frequent trips to graves, red strings tied around the wrist, "holy" water, amulets to ward off the evil eye, chairs to "cure" barren women, kabbalah seminars, and so on and so forth.

My sister forwarded me an email today linking to this PowerPoint presentation. As it is in Hebrew, I will summarise it here.

In August 2001, a suicide bomber blew himself up in a fast food restaurant in central Jerusalem, killing 15 and wounding more than 150. Shortly thereafter, followers of the Breslov Hasidic movment printed a miraculous story in the Tikkun HaClali - a booklet containing some psalms and prayers which, if recited daily, they believe will cleanse them of their sins (specifically the sin of masturbation).

The story in the booklet goes like this: minutes before the bombing, the cashier at the restaurant told everyone that the resturant is full and a few customers decided to leave. Among them was this American woman. After the bombing, the woman sought out the cashier and found her in a hospital. Grateful for being saved, she left the girl her phone number in New York telling her to call her if in need. Some time later the cashier called and they agreed to meet in NYC. On the day, the woman left her office at the Twin Towers to go meet the visitor from Israel. You guessed right, the date was September 11, 2001 and thus the American woman was saved once again from certain death by the cashier.

And it just so happens that the cashier had a copy of the Tikkun HaClali next to her when working at the restaurant. Not only did the booklet save her life; it managed to save the American woman's life, twice. Sounds amazing, right? Surely enough to make anyone religious on the spot, joining the dancing Breslov nutcases in busy street intersections, no? Well, not so fast.

The family of the cashier heard about this "miraculous story" and could not believe their ears. Because, you see, the cashier, 19-year-old Tehilah Maoz, died in the bombing. She is buried in Jerusalem. The story was made up in order to shamelessly promote the voodoo booklet by a bunch of so-called believers. Rabbi Nachman must be turning in his grave knowing his name is used by such lowlifes.

This is just one small story and were it representative of the pervasiveness of this "voodoo Judaism" it would not be so interesting. Sadly, rather than dealing with the demanding task of keeping mitzvot, many prefer to wallow in the imaginary comfort of magical instant gratification. Avodah zarah was and remains an easy way out for errant souls.

Punctual Delays

As I write these words (which I will post later, as I am not connected right now), I'm sitting on an ICE train from Koeln to Hannover. But the train is not moving; we've been stuck at Hamm station for the past 15 minutes and the forecast right now is that we won't be departing for
another 15.

And this is by all means not a first for me. In the past few months I have witnessed train delays in Germany at least half a dozen times. A couple of them were delays of more than 30 minutes and on one occasion almost 1.5 hours! In my four and a half years in Japan I recall only one delay and that one was for only a few minutes. And I travelled by train almost every day in Japan...

True, the Japanese might at times take their punctuality to extremes, but they've left the "punctual" Germans eons behind. I pity those football fans who paid hundreds of Euros for their ticket and will be late to the game because of Deutsche Bahn.

[Update: the delay turned out to be 1 hour...]

Double Standards

One of the more irritating traits of "leftists" in Israel (and perhaps everywhere) is their inability to admit to their double standards.

After Rabin's assassination in 1995, they cried foul about the incitement that preceded the murder and produced, as they would have it, the appropriate "environment" for the murderer to act. Images of right-wing demonstrations with placards reading "Rabin is a traitor" and "Rabin is a murderer" were brought as examples of this incitement.

Yet yesterday, in a left-wing demonstration outside the Chief of Staff's home in Tel Aviv (which made headlines mostly due to the participation of the Prime Minister's daughter), the demonstrators called Dan Halutz a "murderer" and a "killer of children". This reminded me of the "mother of all demonstrations" - the 1982 Tel Aviv demonstration following the Sabra & Shatila massacre during the Lebanon war - where Ariel Sharon (later to become darling of the "leftists") was also labelled as a "murderer".

Now, how would your average "leftist" react when you dare mention that perhaps calling the Chief of Staff a "killer of children" might also qualify as incitement?

Rhetorical question. I guess incitement, like pornography, is a question of geography.

World's Funniest Joke

Officially, this is the world's funniest joke. You judge.

Two hunters are out in the woods in New Jersey when one of them collapses. He doesn't seem to be breathing and his eyes are glazed.

The other guy whips out his phone and calls the emergency services. He gasps 'My friend is dead! What can I do?' The operator says: 'Calm down, I can help. First, let's make sure he's dead.'

There is a silence, then a shot is heard. Back on the phone, the guy says 'OK, now what?'

Sumo in Israel

This week, a Sumo stable from Japan - the Sadogatake Beya - is visiting Israel.

This is a rare happening, as Sumo wrestlers (rikishi) seldom leave Japan. They were hosted by the president and various other officials, "trained" children on Tel Aviv beach and visited a children's hospital (where I accidentally bumped into them yesterday morning on my way to work; fortunately, not literally bumped).

Last night they conducted a friendly tournament in Caesarea, at the ancient Roman open-air amphitheatre. I was pleasantly surprised, both by the almost-full attendance and by how well the whole thing was organized, complete with running commentary by Motti Dichne, who provided much useful information about the sport.

The "competition" was won by Koto-Oshu (a.k.a. Mahlyanov Kaloyan Stefanov), a Bulgarian who is currently no. 3 in Japan. His parents flew in from Bulgaria for the event. Increasingly, non-Japanese are excelling in Sumo; the current champion (yokozuna), Asa Sho Ryu, is from Mongolia.

I will not bore you with lengthy explanations about this exceptional sport (see link above for that); instead, here are some pictures from the event (click on pictures to enlarge):

Dohyou - the arena, made of clay and sand

Fat, but extremly flexible and agile

The Israeli "children Sumo club" take on Koto Oshu

Koto Oshu gets his hair done; each wrestler has a distinctive hairdo

A favourite gimmick in Sumo fights: giant holding baby

Tsuridashi - lifting opponent by mawashi (a.k.a "the diaper")

Koto Oshu and the cup

In short: At an amphitheatre in an ancient Roman city in the Jewish state of Israel, a bunch of Japanese wrestlers got their asses kicked by a Bulgarian.

A Bridge To Nowhere

It must be difficult to admit failure after 36 years of activity around a central idea. Yet this is exactly what Rabbi Dr. Danier Tropper did today in an interview published in Haaretz (Hebrew).

Tropper founded and managed Gesher ("bridge" in Hebrew), an organization that works to promote mutual understanding among Israelis of all backgrounds, specifically religious and secular, through joint seminars, movie productions, etc. It is funded partly by the government and partly by donations (mostly from the US).

Tropper resigned his post recently and these are his observations about the outcome of Gesher's efforts after more than three and a half decades of activity:

• Religious Zionism has marginalised itself to the point of irrelevance by concentrating its efforts around the issue of Greater Israel
• On the other hand, secular Israelis are nothing more than "Hebrew-speaking gentiles" (unsurprisingly this generated the most inflammatory comments from readers)
• What destroyed Judaism in Israel is the politisation of religion (yet he does not reach the obvious conclusion that separation of state and church is necessary)

These are not great insights to anyone who lives here, but hearing these things from someone who dedicated his life to trying to bridge the gaps in Israeli society and make Israel a better place, is both sad and disheartening.

The Perfect Woman

Last Friday was the holiday of Shavu’ot (Pentacost) and, as is customary, one stays up all night to study Torah. At 3AM I heard an interesting talk from Rabbi Yuval Sherlo which I enjoyed very much. It was based on things said by Rabbi Yaakov Medan (co-head of Har Etzion yeshivah). I will try to reconstruct it from memory.

Every Friday evening, after returning from the synagogue and before dinner, the husband recites the concluding 22 verses of the book of Mishlei (Proverbs), known as Eshet Chayil. The translation of the Hebrew word chayil into English is not simple; some translate it as valour, others as accomplished or competent – hence “woman of valour” or “accomplished woman”.

From the context of the text, it is clear that the eshet chayil is an extremely resourceful woman: she provides for the home, she gets up before dawn, she feeds the poor, she makes and sells things and she is wise and kind. It is not suprising that the expression eshet chayil has become synonymous with a most fine woman, a woman to marry. This acrostic hymn is recited by the husband to symbolize his gratitude for having such a great wife. The Midrash attributes eshet chayil to Abraham, who composed it as a eulogy for his wife Sarah.

But turning back to the book of Mishlei, who is this woman of valour? Was there a historic figure that was the “original” eshet chayil?

Chapter 31 of Mishlei opens with “The words of king Lemuel, the burden with which his mother corrected him”, and continues with the mother’s king chastising her son for consorting with the wrong kind of women and for being drunk. She tells him not to forget his duty as king, which is to judge righteously and plead the cause of the poor and needy. And later in the chapter (verse 23) the husband of the eshet chayil is described as someone who is “known at the gates, where he sits among the elders”. As we know from the Bible, the Judges of Israel sat at the gates of the city, so as to be available to the public. In other words, the husband is none other than the king of Israel, who is by nature of his job also a judge.

[Some commentators went as far as to identify Lemuel as king Shlomo (Solomon), and the whole monologue by his mother taking place on the morning of the day of the consecration of the Temple. Shlomo is late in waking up after a night of excessive drinking and inappropriate consorting, no less...]

So, if the husband is Shlomo, who is the eshet chayil? Is Shlomo’s mother describing a real woman? It seems not. She scolds her son for his present wives and concubines and then launches into the long hymn of Eshet Chayil to describe the woman her son should have married. She gives him the “blueprint” for the woman he should be looking for, the woman of valour that will take care of the poor that he will judge, that will make sure the household is taken care of while he serves the people at the gates.

And now for the interesting part. If we search the Bible we find only one woman who is described in the words “eshet chayil”: Ruth, the Moabite widow who decided to become Jewish and follow her destitute mother-in-law to Israel. After her husband-to-be Boaz finds her sleeping at his feet in the field and hears her story, he cries out “for you are an eshet chayil!” (Ruth 3, 11). Ruth is the archetype of all women of valour; she symbolizes what every man, certainly a king, should aspire to find in the woman he marries. And it is on Shavu'ot that we read the story of Ruth.

Shlomo’s mother is not making up an imaginary woman. She reminds her son where he comes from, what his roots are. Remember, she tells him, "charm is deceptive and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears God shall be praised" (verse 30). She asks him to look to his great-great-grandmother, Ruth, in order to find the model for the woman he should marry – the eshet chayil.

-----------------------

Here is the hymn of Eshet Chayil (Mishlei 31, 10-31) in Hebrew transliteration and English:

Eshet chayil mi yimtza v'rachok mip'ninim michrah
An accomplished woman, who can find? Her value is far beyond pearls.

Batach bah lev ba'lah v'shalal lo yechsar
Her husband's heart relies on her and he shall lack no fortune.

G'malathu tov v'lo ra kol y'mei chayeiha
She does him good and not evil, all the days of her life.

Darshah tzemer ufishtim vata'as b'chefetz kapeiha
She seeks wool and flax, and works with her hands willingly.

Haitah ka'oniyot socher mimerchak tavi lachmah
She is like the merchant ships, she brings her bread from afar.

Vatakom b'od lailah vatiten teref l'vetah v'chok l'na'aroteiha
She arises while it is still night, and gives food to her household and a portion to her maidservants.

Zam'mah sadeh vatikachehu mip'ri chapeiha nat'ah karem
She plans for a field, and buys it. With the fruit of her hands she plants a vineyard.

Chagrah b'oz motneiha vat'ametz zro'oteiha
She girds her loins in strength, and makes her arms strong.

Ta'amah ki tov sachrah lo yichbeh balailah nerah
She knows that her merchandise is good. Her candle does not go out at night.

Yadeha shilchah bakishor v'chapeiha tamchu falech
She sets her hands to the distaff, and holds the spindle in her hands.

Kapah parsah le'ani v'yadeiha shil'chah la'evyon
She extends her hands to the poor, and reaches out her hand to the needy.

Lo tira l'vetah mishaleg ki chol betah lavush shanim
She fears not for her household because of snow, because her whole household is warmly dressed.

Marvadim astah lah shesh v'argaman l'vushah
She makes covers for herself, her clothing is fine linen and purple.

Noda bash'arim ba'lah b'shivto im ziknei aretz
Her husband is known at the gates, when he sits among the elders of the land.

Sadin astah vatimkor vachagor natnah lak'na'ani
She makes a cloak and sells it, and she delivers aprons to the merchant.

Oz v'hadar l'vushah vatischak l'yom acharon
Strength and honor are her clothing, she smiles at the future.

Piha patchah b'chochma v'torat chesed al l'shonah
She opens her mouth in wisdom, and the lesson of kindness is on her tongue.

Tzofi'ah halichot betah v'lechem atzlut lo tochel
She watches over the ways of her household, and does not eat the bread of idleness.

Kamu vaneha vay'ash'ruha ba'lah vay'hal'lah
Her children rise and praise her, her husband lauds her.

Rabot banot asu chayil v'at alit al kulanah
Many women have done worthily, but you surpass them all.

Sheker hachen v'hevel hayofi ishah yir'at Hashem hi tit'halal
Charm is deceptive and beauty is vain, but a woman who fears God shall be praised.

T'nu lah mip'ri yadeiha vihal'luha vash'arim ma'aseha
Give her of the fruit of her hands, and let her works praise her in the gates.

"We Are Like Donkeys"

Those studying the Daf Yomi have this week come across (one version) of the story about Pinchas Ben Yair's donkey, a story brought by the Talmud to support the saying: "If the rishonim (the sages of early ages) were like men, then we are like donkeys". This saying is oft quoted to illustrate the concept of the "decline of the generations" (yeridat ha-dorot), the decline of Torah scholarship across generations.

First the story about the donkey, then some short thoughts about the notion of the "decline of the generations".

The Yerushalmi in Shekalim 13, tells us about the donkey of Pinchas Ben Yair, one of the early chassidim (not the chassidim of today, but a group of righteous people who were known for their good deeds and close relationship to God). This donkey was stolen and for three days, while in captivity, refused to eat anything. Not wanting a dead donkey on their hands, the thieves released it. The donkey found its way back and stood outside Pinchas Ben Yair's home, braying for attention. Hearing her (for the donkey was a "she", a jennet) Pinchas Ben Yair ordered for food to be brought, but when barley was put before the donkey, again it refused to eat. When told about this, Ben Yair inquired whether tithe was given from this barley, and the answer was positive. He then asked whether tithe was given from the demai (a more strict tithe, we won't go into the details) and the answer was that this was not necessary as the law does not require tithe from demai when the produce is used to feed animals. Pinchas Ben Yair smiled and said: "what can I do if my donkey is so righteous that it won't eat demai without tithing!". He tithed the barley and the donkey finally started eating.

The Talmud tells us the bottom line: yes, it is true we are "like donkeys", but we are not even at the level of Pinchas Ben Yair's donkey...

The notion of yeridat ha-dorot is perfectly understandable with regards to the level of scholarship of the average person in our generation. I am continuously in awe of Rashi, his breadth of knowledge and his capability to generate such a consistent commentary over thousands of Torah and Talmud pages. I am humbled every time I read the Rambam, who managed to codify the entire Jewish Law, write ground-breaking books about Jewish theology and at the same time work as full-time doctor. There is no question about the greatness of the rishonim.

But when applied to the area of halacha and Torah study, this notion is somewhat problematic. Must a modern-day scholar be forced to go against his reasoning simply because it contradicts an earlier, and conflicting, opinion? Surely the quest for halachic truth cannot be muted in mere subservience to past generations. So long as the proper guidelines of Torah study are kept, one must assume that there is for innovation and progress in the area of Torah scholarship.

In fact, the very rule set down by the Sanhedrin - that a court of law (bet din) greater in wisdom and number may reverse the ruling of a previous court of law - presupposes that a later generation's opinion may indeed be superior! The donkey may yet become man once again, so to speak. I fear that while the notion of "generational decline" is correct, it has been interpreted in ways that contributed to the stagnation of Jewish halacha in the last couple of centuries. Respect for previous generations and humbleness before their genius must not stifle the continuity of Jewish thought.

Man in the Shadows, by Efraim Halevy

What should one expect when picking up a book with a subtitle that reads: "Inside the Middle East Crisis with a Man Who Led the Mossad"? Surely this is going to be a real-life rendering of a Tom Clancy novel, or at the very least, a John Le Carre one? Well, not exactly. Efraim Halevy, who was at the helm of Israel's notorious and legendary secret service organization for five years, is not your typical cloak-and-dagger type. Far from it. I happened to have met him personally on a couple of occasions many years ago, and if anything, he reminded me of Sir Humphrey in the TV show "Yes Minister": the quintessential British civil servant, with impeccable manners and the Queen's English.

"Man in the Shadows" is more of a political memoir than an account of the Mossad's activities. Halevy played a dominant role as the secret envoy of several Israeli prime ministers (Shamir, Peres, Rabin, Netanyahu, Barak and Sharon) and as such was privy to many negotiations that shaped the region's politics in the 1990s. He writes of these experiences in a low-key and level-headed manner; rarely does he lapse into the emotional zone and when he does so it usually, and suprisingly, concerns Shimon Peres and/or the Israeli foreign services. Although not stated in so many words, it is clear that Halevy has little sympathy for Peres. He speaks fondly of other prime ministers he served under, but for Peres he has nothing but scorn and distrust. As for the foreign office diplomats, he makes them out to look like total amateurs.

A lot of attention is given to Jordan and to its late king, Hussein. This is understandable given Halevy's special relationship with the Hashemite kingdom and the late monarch. His involvement in bringing about the peace agreement between Jordan and Israel was substantial. His account of the Khaled Mashal incident - a botched attempt by the Mossad to kill a Hamas leader in Amman that brought about a serious crisis between the two countries - is probably the most fascinating chapter in the book. Halevy is well aware of this "Jordan bias" of his and admits to it; nevertheless, he remains of the opinion that Jordan plays a pivotal role in the Middle East, well and above what most observers will admit to.

Halevy also devotes many pages to how he views the intelligence community and its interaction with its political masters. I found these parts of the book to be more interesting than the historical accounts (especially as there are no new revelations anyway). Halevy laments the decline of the special standing of the intelligence community, especially in the US, in the aftermath of the 9/11 structural shake-ups. He believes that in the current war of the civilised world against global terrorism - a war he calls "World War 3" - the West cannot win if it does not accord its intelligence organs the proper standing and freedom of operation they deserve.

Sento - Washing Away

Reading the Daily Yomiuri over breakfast this morning (I am in Tokyo this week) I came across some distressing news: the number of sento in Tokyo has fallen below 1,000! The exact number as of today - everything is tracked and recorded in Japan - is 999.

Sento are public baths (literally: "penny baths", sen = penny; to = bath). Most people are familar with the Japanese onsen, the natural water hot springs so popular with tourists and locals. Sento are the ugly step-sisters of onsen. They are spread around the city and comprise of a small changing room with tiny lockers, a few shower stalls (the sitting type, of course) and the hot bath itself. All of the sento today are separated, unlike in the old days when everybody soaked together. They are not easy to spot as usually the entrance is very small with nothing but a small sign saying yu (hot water) over a blue-curtained noren.

Back in the times when most houses in Tokyo were not equipped with running hot water, sento was the way to keep clean. Even today, it is not uncommon in certain neighbourhoods to see people making their way to the sento at the end of the working day. However, with the more hectic life style of Tokyoites and the availability of higher-end spas and health centres, onsen are gradually washing away, yet another sign of the changing face of Japan.

Four Billion Dollars

Many years ago - it was either in the application for an MBA or during the Foreign Office tests, I don't recall exactly - I was asked to write a short essay about the person I admired most. I chose Steph Wertheimer, the Israeli entrepreneur who set up his business empire, the Iscar group, in northern Israel. Wertheimer was a Member of the Knesset for four years, built the industrial park in Tefen and the neighbouring community of Kefar Veradim. In 1991 he received the highest award the State of Israel can bestow upon its citizens - The Israel Prize.

Warren Buffet, the legendary investor and "the world's second richest man", announced yesterday that his investment company will buy 80% of Iscar for 4 billion dollars. That's a valuation worth more than 4% of Israel's annual GDP, for a privately-owned company!

Beyond its economic value, this deal has tremendous implications regarding foreign investment in Israel. Kudos to the Wertheimer family; Israel needs more of these people.

Maccabees - Then and Now

A few minutes ago Maccabi Tel Aviv lost to CSKA Moscow in the European basketball finals in Prague.

The original Maccabees were warriors from the house of Matityahu the Hasmonean, whose name derived from the Jewish word for "hammer" (makevet) and who rose up in revolt and fought an heroic war against Hellenism in the 2nd century B.C.E. Their victory is celebrated every year during the festival of Hannukah.

I admit that I too am occasionally interested in the modern-day "maccabeem". I watched the second half (I missed the first half due to the Daf Hayomi shi'ur) and I too cheered for Maccabi during certain moments in the game. But the passion just isn't there any more. Why? Consider the following picture, from today's game:

A Maccabi player against a CSKA player. Both 2nd rate players from the US, NBA dropouts or wannabees, mercenaries in the world of professional basketball. And yet they manage to stir up enough passion and interest among Israelis (me included!), who still view a victory by Maccabi Tel Aviv as a victory of "the Jews against the goyim".

I struggle to find that passion within me. It does not come easily. Gone are the days of a team of Israeli (or at least Jewish) players - like Mickey Berkowits, Motti Aroesti and Tal Brodi - who made me proud as a teenager growing up in Italy when they beat Mobilgirgi Varese in 1977. It's all business nowadays and passion for business I keep for my working hours, not my leisure time.

Basel, Switzerland

A few hours spent earlier this week walking aimlessly around Basel, in northern Switzerland, during a beautiful sunny spring afternoon, generated the following random thoughts:

1. Basel is a lot more multi-cultural than I had imagined, even given the fact it sits in the junction between three countries. Aside from the obvious German and French, I heard Italian, Turkish, Russian, English, Greek and a few other languages I could not name.

2. Why can't any city, or even a small town, or you know what, the tiniest village in Israel, be half as clean as Basel is?

3. How pleasant is the sight of mothers and their children riding together on a bicycle to/from school, weaving their way patiently through traffic composed of cars and trams, and yet not for a moment looking worried that someone will cut them rudely off the road.

4. The cherry trees blossom also in Basel, not only in Tokyo. And these are real cherry trees, with real fruit, unlike the Japanese "fake" sakura.

5. For an airport carrying the dual name Basel-Mulhouse (after the Swiss and French cities it serves), Euro Airport is astonishingly small.

6. A kosher restaurant outside Israel can serve good food, in a quiet and clean environment and for a reasonable price. Sounds impossibly crazy? Try the Topas restaurant at the Jewish Community Centre on Leimenstrasse 24 in Basel.

7. Finally, the Israeli angle. The Three Kings Hotel is closed for restoration, so to try and recreate what Herzl felt like when he was contemplating the establishment of a Jewish state, I had to make my way to the promenade underneath the hotel.

The Balcony: then and now.

I put my elbows on the stone wall, leaned forward, looked thoughtfully at the other bank and tried to concentrate hard, to capture that unique "Zionist moment". Conclusion: I have no clue what made Theodor yearn for the dusty landscape of Palestine while watching the beautiful Rhine river flowing vigorously a few feet below. He must have been smoking something. Or perhaps I should have waited longer, enough time to grow a beard.

The Israeli Arse

One of the least appealing aspects of life in Israel is living side-by-side with "The Israeli Arse". No, I am not referring to the backsides of my fellow denizens. I'm talking about that ubiquitous character that makes life in Israel much more colourful perhaps, but at times also very annoying and almost unbearable.

The "Arse" is by now a stereotype: tight jeans, white t-shirts, copious amounts of hair jel, heavy golden jewelery, hand jestures, blue neon lights under the car, etc... (if you've lost me here, watch the movie I linked to above). But what used to be an amusing anthropological pastime has fast become the norm of Israeli society. "Arseem" are everywhere: on the road, in supermarkets, in malls, at the airport, in the synagogue. Perhaps it's just my being away for a few years, but it seems like the "Arseem" population has grown immensely.

But it's more than that really. The "Arseem" themselves are not the whole problem. What bothers me is the the "Arse culture" which seems to have become the de-facto Israeli culture, the zeitgeist. The total lack of basic manners (queuing up, or saying "sorry" after bumping into someone), the rudeness, the loud talking, the lack of respect for other people's space or even presence. I find myself appraising people judgmentally on the street and in shops, to ascertain whether they are friends or foes.

I am currently reading a book about the 1967 "six day war", which describes the general atmosphere of Israeli society before, during and after the war. What a different country! I'm not referring to the political/military differences but to how people wrote, spoke and behaved. Despite the harder times - both economically and politically - people back then had respect for fellow citizen and for country. I regret to say I don't see that around me today. It's every man for himself (except for rare moments of short-lived unity, around some major tragedy like a suicide bombing).

Last week, after a particularly nasty road incident with an "Arse" (I use the term freely here; he looked pretty respectable but his driving was definitely "Arse" in nature), I remembered something a friend told me many years ago. We were talking about life in Israel and how hard it was to get used to some aspects of it, and he said: "There is no choice. At a certain point in your life you come to realize that in order to protect your family and your sanity, you need to erect virtual walls around you. You block yourself off from the rest of the world and care only about the ones you love most". How true, and how sad.

Midlife Crisis and Hairdressing

A friend of mine opened a hair styling salon in Tel Aviv last month. He and I did our MBA together. Like me, he works at a high-tech company and is used to life in the fast lane, but a couple of years ago he decided he would learn how to cut hair and open his own salon.

"Atmospera", as the place is called, is a cross between a hair salon and an art gallery. The idea is to promote young artists' work with a revolving display.

I wish him all the best with this initiative. I know we're all going through our midlife crisis right now, but hair styling!? I admire him for taking the leap and doing what he felt he wanted to do (whilst keeping his day job...).

I am Charlotte Simmons, by Tom Wolfe

This book is about the corruption of a young American girl from Sparta, a remote mountain town in North Carolina, who makes it against all odds to a top university in Pennsylvania ("Dupont"), only to find out that not top-notch education but rather sex, alcohol, drugs and generlly being "cool" are top-most on her fellow students' minds. Tom Wolfe paints a vivid picture of college life on American campuses, or at least that's what he would have us believe, not too successfully in my mind.

I guess Wolfe was out to write the definitive book about college life. And indeed the book is nothing but a long (700+ pages) description of the frivolities of college students. It is full of stereotypical characters: the basketball players who get academic discounts and lead a life (literally) above the rest, the drunken frat boys and the giggly sorority girls, the group of smart nerds who are after the Rhodes scholarship and, above all, the innocent hillybilly who cannot believe it all - Charlotte. Wolfe, in his charcteristic style, does not leave much to the imagination when describing Charlotte's encounter with college life. One of ther first experiences on campus are the sounds produced by a boy defecating loudly in the stalls of the co-ed bathroom (I will spare you the details). Shortly thereafter, Charlotte's room-mate throws her out in the middle of the night so that she can spend time there alone with her boyfriend; thus Charlotte learns what it means to be "sexiled". And so on and so forth.

Despite its weakness in credibility - I refuse to believe this is what life in Ivy League colleges is all about - what saves this book is Wolfe's excellent writing style, captivating the reader and transporting him to a world that although removed from reality seems at the same time very realistic. I read the book while travelling between three continents and it was a faithful companion on the long flights and sleepless nights. As far as pop fiction goes, it's an entertaining read.

One final thought. Wolfe, author of excellent books such as Bonfire of Vanities and A Man in Full, gives thanks in the foreward to the book to his daughters, who apparently let him into the secret lives of college students based on first-hand experiences. If I am Charlotte Simmons faithfully portrays what Wolfe's daughters went through in college, I shudder to think how he reacted, as a father, when hearing their stories.

A Partial Eclipse

There was a solar eclipse today. In Israel it was only partial, but still quite impressive.

Sadly, while I was watching the sun being gradually eclipsed by the shadow of the moon, I could not but think about the greater eclipse that occurred only hours earlier: the great vanishing act of the Israeli electorate. In this election - which saw the disappearance of the third largest party, the near-disappearance of the ruling party and the suprising rise of a party of sexagenarians - a large portion of the Israeli public chose not to choose. This election set a record low turnout (just over 60%), in a country that used to be proud of the deep involvement of its citizens in the democratic process.

Some say this is the result of a general feeling of "what's the point?". Israelis have long distrusted their politicians and with Prime Ministers such as Netanyahu and Barak who can blame them? But maybe this is only another sign of Israel growing up and becoming a "normal" country; after all, in most Western democracies the voter turnout is even lower. Perhaps it is time to follow the Australian example, and fine people who choose not to vote. Especially as election day is traditionally a day off in Israel, giving people ample time to spend a few minutes fulfilling their democratic duty. The chutzpah has no limits..

Back in Tokyo (For a Short While)

Three months after leaving Tokyo, I was back. A whole week in Tokyo, mostly business, but with a weekend in the middle.

Truth is... it felt like home. No problem giving the taxi drivers directions in Japanese, no need for a map to get around and a general feeling of ease and familiarity. Yes, I know it's only been three months, but given my hectic work schedule of late and the incessant running around getting settled back in Israel, it seemed like much more.

The Japanese are as polite and as service-oriented as ever. No big suprise here, but now that I'm back living in Israel, the contrast is even starker. Nobody tried to jump a queue; nobody ignored me when I stepped up to a service counter (be it in a shop, a hotel, a train station... anywhere); and most importantly, nobody pushed, shoved and shouted his/her way through. In a way it's ironic: a metropolis triple the size (in population) with merely a fraction of the stress and tension so common on Israeli streets.

But I ramble... It was great to be back, if only for a short while.

Leipzig, Germany

On my way to a meeting in Magdeburg last week, I stopped for a few hours in Leipzig, a city of half a million inhabitants in former Eastern Germany.

Leipzig is "the city of Bach". The great composer spent the last three decades of his life here, as the director of music and cantor at the St. Thomas church. Outside the church stands a larger-than-life statue of the plump Sebastian. Leipzig also prides itself for other notable German culture heroes: Goethe studied here; Felix Mendelssohn lived here.

In more recent history, Leipzig is known as the city where the "Peaceful Revolution" began in 1989, with demonstrations outside the famous St. Nicholas church, culminating in the fall of communism and unification of Germany.

The old city centre is a small area, easily explored on foot, enabling the passing tourist to see it all in a couple of hours: the old and new city halls, the churches, the tall university building (that is no longer the university) and other famous buildings such as the opera house and a couple of ancient restaurants and coffe shops.

But the memory I will carry with me from Leipzig is from none of the above. In the middle of an innocuous square, not far from St. Thomas church, stand a few dozen wooden chairs. They mark the site of the former synagogue of the Jewish community of Leipzig, destroyed in the events following Kristallnacht in November 1938. More powerful than any monument, these simple chairs serve as a reminder of a community of 11,000 Jews that is no more.

The Joys of Israeli Bureaucracy

For a while now I've been meaning to write about the infernal bureaucratic road one has to follow when building a new house in Israel. But every time I started writing I found myself wondering where to begin, how to convey the horror of it all in one post - thoughts which quickly led to despair and abandonment of the effort. The labyrinthian nature of this kafkaesque experience requires writing skill that are beyond my capabilities.

So instead of a comprehensive post I will tell of one small incident.

Our house is a semi-detached one, built behind a 5-storey building. The entrance to our house (and the other three adjacent to ours) is from the parking lot of the building, so one has to walk through the car entrance to the rear of the building before reaching the house. To the left of our house (and the building) is a public path that is about a metre below the level of the parking lot. Today, there is a fence between the parking lot and this public path.

A while ago, the four families living in the houses requested the local authorities to open a small opening in the fence and build a few stairs leading down to the public path. This way, people could enter our houses by walking down the public path and up the stairs, instead of walking all the way around the building and through the car entrance. Not to mention the safety issues of walking through the same road as the cars. Our request was backed with photographs and a draft engineering plan. After a short meeting at the city hall, the appropriate bureaucrat approved the concept "in principle" and everyone was happy.

A couple of months ago we received a letter saying that upon re-consideration the request was denied. No explanations given. We wrote a letter back requesting another meeting to understand this reversal of decision. After a few weeks of silence, and several phone calls, another bureaucrat agreed to see us. In the meeting, she produced a letter (supposedly sent to us but which we never received) saying that the decision was reversed because after a "visit by professionals" to the area they realized the height difference between the public path and the parking lot is "more than 2.5 metres" and thus requires a "significant" flight of stairs, which is unacceptable.

Sounds fair enough, right? After all, why construce a massive of more than 10 stairs on a public path just to satisfy four families? Well, not so easy. This morning I took a measuring tape and checked the height difference. Turns out it is less than a metre... All it takes is 3-4 stairs.

So what are the possibilities? Perhaps nobody ever came on-site and the city hall just thought they could brush us off with a letter? Or perhaps the measuring tape of the "professionals" they sent was a biblical one and they measured amot instead of metres? Or perhaps this is just standard procedure and we need to go through the "proper" number of meetings, phone calls, letters and voice-raising scenarios before getting to a positive resolution of the matter.

And this is just a drop in the ocean. Oh, if I were to start writing about the other hundreds (yes, hundreds) of problems one has to solve in order to find peace and tranquility under a new roof. A heartfelt recommendation to anyone considering building a new house in Israel: DON'T. Buy an existing one instead and spend your time and energy in renovating it.

Sennacherib at the British Museum

I had a free half-day in London yesterday and decided to pay the British Museum a rather overdue visit (I think it's been 10 years since the last time). Not having too much time, I headed straight for the Ancient Far East rooms, which I remembered as being pretty impressive from my last visit.

As it turned out, I spent most of my time in and around the "Lachish" and the "Nineveh Palace" rooms, displaying items excavated in and around modern-day Iraq from the Sennacherib period. Sennacherib, king of Assyria in the 8th century BCE, is mentioned in the Bible and in the Talmud as the evil king from the North that descended upon Judah to try and quench the rebellion of the Jews in the times of king Hezekiah (helped by the Egyptians). He succeeded in conquering the city of Lachish, south-west of Jerusalem, but despite a long siege could not take Jerusalem and returned to his city of Nineveh. The Bible attributes this failure to a divine intervention: the angel of God descended upon Sennachrib's camp and killed 185,000 men (Melachim Bet). The Assyrian chronicles, on display at the British Museum, obviously tell a different story: Hezekiah was forced to surrender and to pay large sums of money to Sennacherib, and this is why the Assyrian king retreated back to his kingdom and spared the city.

Most of the reliefs in the Niniveh Palace room are partial, but the battle scenes they depict are still grandiose. Even more astounding are the reliefs in the Lachish room. One of the more interesting reliefs shows prisoners of war being brought before Sennacherib, who is sat on a throne and sentences some of them to death. Interestingly, the relief is almost intact and spans across an entire wall, but the king's face was deliberately defaced, probably after the end of his reign, when Nineveh fell in 612 BCE.

Now I need to visit the site at Nineveh, where apparently the Iraqi department of Antiquities did a fabulous job of preserving the excavated remains of Sennacherib's palace.

Sushi - The Guide

It's been a while since I posted... And I'm afraid this is not going to be a "proper" post.

Here's an amusing link I got from a friend: sushi. Enjoy.

A Prayer for Sharon

On this day, my thoughts are with Ariel Sharon. I pray for a speedy and healthy recovery and hope for a miracle. Given the alternatives, Israel without his leadership is a thought almost too hard to bear.

Sayonara Japan, Shalom Israel

Last Friday we landed in Israel, back home after more than four years of living in Japan.

When I signed the contract to relocate to Tokyo, the expectation was that we would be in Japan for two, maybe three, years. At the time, despite me being familiar with Tokyo from several years of regular business trips there, living in the Land of the Rising Sun seemed like something we would never get really used to. We did not think it would become possible for us to call Japan "home". After all, it is so far away from Israel, geographically and culturally. How wrong we were.

Almost four and a half years have gone by and alarmingly fast. Not only did we get used to living in this foreign land, but we actually grew to love it. It is true that it would never be "home" in the deeper sense of the word - after all, a gaijin is a foreigner for life - but for us it did become a place we could call "home". A place we will terribly miss.

So it is with these mixed feelings that we start a new chapter in our lives, this time in our real "home".

Chayey Sarah - Overcoming Our Self-Interest

ויאמר אליו העבד: אולי לא תאבה האשה ללכת אחרי אל הארץ הזאת. ההשב אשיב את בנך אל הארץ הזאת אשר יצאת משם?

(בראשית כ"ד, ה')

Avraham's servant, Damasek Eliezer, is mostly described in rosy colours by our sages. They tell us that although he was Canaanite, his knowledge of the Torah was wide and deep. They tell us that he was not only a faithful servant that carried out his master's wishes, but he was also very smart and intelligent. The slight changes he makes in describing his duties to Rivka's parents and brother are brought as an example of his diplomatic (and selling) skills. So much so that the Midrash states: "the talk of servants is more beautiful than the Torah of the sons", alluding to the Torah's lengthy recounting of Eliezer's story.

It is therefore somewhat surprising to read, in the same Midrash, that Eliezer's intentions were not always entirely faithful to Avraham. In fact, he had a daughter and wished for her to be the chosen one for Yitzhak; he could not comprehend why Avraham would go to such lengths to find a wife for his beloved son when a most suitable woman was available right there in his household. The Midrash goes as far as to alter a word in the Torah to express the extent of Eliezer's wishes:

And the servant said to him: what if the woman will not be willing to follow me to this land? Should I bring your son back to the land you came from?

(Bereshit 24, 6)

"What if" in Hebrew reads "אולי", and the Midrash tells us to read this word as a similar sounding work: "הלוואי", meaning "hopefully", thus revealing Eliezer's true intentions. He was not asking a legitimate question about the possibility of the woman not wanting to follow him back to Canaan; he was expressing his innermost wishes that this would indeed happen, so that Avraham would have no choice but give Yitzhak to his daughter. The Midrash goes even further. When Eliezer recounts the story to Rivka's household, the word "what if" in Hebrew is written with the ommission of the letter Vav - "אלי" - implying that Eliezer was telling them that he wishes Rivka not to go back with him to Canaan.

Why does the Midrash go to such lengths to find wrongs in Eliezer's behaviour and to put blemish on his otherwise impeccable loyalty to Avraham?

The Midrash teaches us something here about human nature. Even sages, even the most holy of men, cannot escape the basic human trait of self-serving interest. No matter how much Eliezer was loyal to Avraham, deep inside him, perhaps even at a sub-conscious level, he had a different agenda. He wanted his own daughter to marry the son of his master. Nobody is exempt from the occasional slip, from the urge to overlook what's right and act out of pure self-interest.

And yet Eliezer accomplishes his task. He brings back Rivka to marry Yitzhak, thus giving up his hopes and those of his flesh and blood. Why? It is here that the Torah teaches us a great lesson. True: one cannot entirely escape one's yetzer ha'ra, one's evil inclination, and avoid harbouring secret desires. But we have a choice. We can choose between what is right and what is wrong. Either we let our yetzer ha'ra overcome us, or we do everything in our power to overcome it.

Eliezer proves he can overcome. He realises that deep inside he wishes his mission to fail, but does everything in his power to make it successful, because it is the right thing to do. He hurries to give Rivka the presents, even before she says yes; he refuses to eat at Betuel's house until he tell them his wishes; and the following morning he rejects the suggestion that Rivka stay home for another week or so before leaving and insists on leaving immediately. He makes sure he does not allow himself to make any mistakes by hurrying through his mission to assure it is ends successfully.

The idea for this week's Torah thought is from R. Ronen Neurwirth.

Eat What You Like, Pay What You Wish

I spent the last few days in Singapore. I've been here once before and it was a pleasure being back. Despite the rather annoying weather - always hot, often raining - it is a very pleasant place.

Last night I asked the concierge whether he knew of any vegetarian Indian restaurants. He sent me to the Annalakshmi restaurant at the Excelsior hotel. Quite an experience. The setting and the food were pretty standard for Indian restaurants, but what was not standard was the price. Or rather, the lack thereof.

It turns out the restaurant is operated by a cultural organization called The Temple of Fine Arts, a volunteer-based group that teaches music and dance for free. To finance themselves, these people set up a chain of restaurants where food is offered for a price determined by the diners. You order from a priceless menu and when you're done, you pay what you feel is appropriate. Certainly a different kind of experience.

How much did we pay? Well, as money is not the point here, I won't tell.