A muddy and messy affair

(Originally published in The Times of Israel)

Democracy, particularly democratic elections, can be a muddy and messy affair. One would be hard-pressed to find a better example of that than Israel's latest elections and the upcoming negotiations over a government.

Some might have the impression that the elections were a great victory for Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu because his Likud Party received 27 votes, the most of any party and five or six votes more than what Likud was polling.  That would be a misimpression. That 27 vote total is down five from what Likud got in the last election four years ago.

And it appears that the additional votes over what the polls predicted came from the far right and religious parties, which generally won fewer seats than in previous elections and which are in his coalition anyway.

Netanyahu's coalition won 53 seats, down eleven from the 64 it received in the last elections in 2022. It is hard to see where he gets another five from in order to get to the 61 needed to form a government.  But you can never sell Netanyahu short.  He is master at the coalition-building game, and he has demonstrated that his overwhelming need to stay in power will lead him to do some outrageous things.

Voters representing 67 seats voted against Netanyahu and the current government–48 in "the opposition" and an unprecedented 19 in the Arab parties.  Not a ringing endorsement of the government.

The main criterion for President Herzog in deciding who gets first shot at forming a government is not who received the most votes.  Rather, he surveys all of the party leaders. He will designate whoever gets the most seats based on discussions with the leaders of the various parties, which is the best indicator of who has the best chance to form a government.  

Several in the opposition pledged not to serve with parties that do not represent themselves as Zionist, while Israel Beytenu leader Avigdor Lieberman, true to form, is more blunt and crude:  he will not serve with Arab parties.  They could probably somehow finagle serving with Ra'am, an Islamist Party whose leader, Monsour Abbas, has proven to be pragmatic and bold.

Abbas has accepted Israel as a Zionist state. And there is precedent: Ra'am served in the short-lived Bennett-Lapid government, the first time an Arab party formally joined a government since th 1950's. That's eight seats, which gets the opposition to 56.

Getting to 61?

 (Originally published in The Times of Israel)

Today is election day in Israel.  Under Israeli law, polling stopped Friday night at midnight. The last polls generally showed former IDF Chief of Staff Gadi Eisenkot and his Yashar party at around 23 seats and Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu at around 20 or 21 seats.  Both are a long way from the 61 seats necessary to form a government in the 120-seat Knesset. 

The polls indicate that the opposition parties, other than the Arab parties, will get to about 54 seats with the current government getting to around 51.  

That’s when the real vicious fighting will start. 

Israeli polls are notoriously unreliable because people engage in a lot of last-minute decision-making if they think their choice is not going to make the 3.25% of-the-vote threshold for winning seats, or if they want to give a candidate more leverage in the negotiations over policy positions and ministries, or if they want to help a party that looks to be just below the threshold make it into the Knesset, or for a myriad of other reasons.   

One irony:  Netanyahu would be much closer to a coalition if he had not convinced several leaders and parties on the right to abandon him.  Yisrael Beiteinu leader Avigdor Lieberman and former Prime Minister and current Yachad leader Naftali Bennett, both former Netanyahu allies, broke with Netanyahu and refuse to serve with him largely due to broken commitments and machinations and manipulations.  In many ways, they fit more with the current government than the opposition. 

Even though Eisenkot said he will not form a coalition with parties that do not meet conditions like support of Israel as a Jewish state, while other opposition parties were more blatant in saying they would not serve with an Arab party, it is likely they would find a way to bring Monsour Abbas’ Ra’am Party into the coalition. 

The irony is that the Ra’am Party, or at least its origins, are as an Islamic party.  But Abbas has shown himself to be a realist.  He has largely accepted, or at least acknowledged, Israel as a Jewish state.  He says he simply wants his people to have equal rights and an equal share of the pie.

He often appears more accepting of Israel as a Zionist state than several of the rabbis who are the spiritual leaders of the political leaders of the ultra-Orthodox parties.  And there is precedent:  Ra’am served in the short-lived Bennett-Lapid government.

Tough choices

 (Originally published in The Times of Israel)

A few months ago I came across a Facebook group entitled “We are Progressive, Liberal, Woke and Pro Israel!”  I used to think of myself as progressive although, given how that concept has been hijacked and polluted, I certainly would not fit in with the current movement.  I am still fairly liberal on a good number of social and economic issues.  I’ve never really known what “woke” means.   Intrigued with the group, I joined up.

My conclusion after reading many posts and joining in a few conversations:  these are by-and-large decent, civil people who care deeply about preserving American democracy and about supporting a democratic, Jewish Israel that has at least a chance of living at peace with its Palestinian neighbors.

My other conclusion:  Many of the members of the group are tortured over what to do in the upcoming election.

They are terribly afraid that a continuing Republican majority in both houses of Congress, combined with two more years of the Trump presidency, threatens permanent damage to American democracy.  They care about immigration, equal rights, reproductive rights, health care, the poor.

And they care about Israel although, like many Israelis, they would love to see a different Israeli Prime Minister and government.

Some have argued that preserving American democracy and stopping the Trump/MAGA agenda is so important that they will put their concerns about Israel aside and vote for Democratic candidates who are anti or weak on Israel but whose other positions they support.  Their argument, or rationale, is that after these candidates are in office, their pro-Israel supporters will be in a good position to educate them more on Israel and to influence their position.

My response to these well-intentioned but naive pro-Israel Democrats:

“The only way that the Democrats will change directions is if they lose elections as a result of their turn to anti-Israel/anti-Jew positions. Helping them win and then trying to persuade them will not work.

“I was a lobbyist in California for 30 years before making Aliyah, so I have a pretty good sense of how politicians act and respond. As a former boss used to say, ‘If you smile when they’re kicking you in the ass, they’ll think you like it.’ Votes are the equivalent of smiles to politicians.

“They’re kicking us in the ass. Don’t smile. I know the thought of the Republicans maintaining a majority in the House or Senate greatly pains many in this group. But if the Democrats win, do not expect them to deviate from the path they are on. Victory will be perceived as confirmation that they are on the right path.”

The joy and the pain

(Originally published in The Times of Israel)

As I scanned possible T-shirts to grab yesterday morning, Yom HaAtzamut (Israel Independence Day), I spotted my very worn blue Israel Association of Baseball shirt with Israel in big clear letters emblazoned on it along with a fairly contemporary, artsy drawing of a couple of baseball bats.

A thought ran quickly through my mind:  How many places in the U.S. would someone feel uncomfortable or unsafe wearing that shirt?  Or perhaps it would be simpler to ask: how many places would you feel safe and comfortable wearing it?

Questions I would never have thought to ask a mere 20 years ago seem very prudent and reasonable given the reports of demonization, harassment, and violence.  Tree of Life in Pittsburgh. Temple Israel in West Bloomington.  Boulder, Colorado. The 2nd Avenue Deli just a week or so ago. Synagogues and other Jewish institutions throughout America vandalized, graffitied, shot at.

Friends and relatives hiding their Stars of David, moving their Mezuahs inside the door.  Gatherings taken indoors, addresses of events not publicized.  My father and grandfathers–outspoken, proud, loud Jews–are spinning in their graves.

I wrote a while back about the dangers of American Jews receding from public life, ceding the public square, restricting their identites as Jews to private spaces.  I am afraid it is happening.  

How different it is here in Israel. We wear our Jewish identity–T-shirts, tallises, jewelry, kippas, you name it–without a thought, unabashed.  We discuss and argue Jewishly in public, loudly.  We live by the Jewish clock and the Jewish calendar.  The destinations on the bus are in the same language Jews prayed in a thousand years ago (as well as Arabic and English). Israeli/Jewish identity is baked into every aspect of life.

It is a liberating, joyful experience.  It is also often a heavy burden.  Israelis, often rated among the happiest people on earth, also pay a terribly high price for living as unself-conscious Jews/Israelis in control of their destiny.  Running to shelters. Burying young soldiers. Feeling alone. Worrying. And worrying some more.

Monday night through sundown Tuesday was Yom Hazikaron, Rememberance Day.  It is not like Memorial Day in the U.S. with sales, boats, and picnics.  It is solemn.  We went to a ceremony at the Jerusalem Theater, a three minute walk from our apartment.  It was one of the hundreds if not thousands of ceremonies held throughout the country, in every neighborhood of every community.  It focused on “lone soldiers,” young people who come from abroad to serve, who fell in battle.

Dear friends and family in The Golden Medina

(Originally published in The Times of Israel)

A seder enveloped by sirens and a heart rendering funeral motivated me to write to friends and family in the United States, some of whom have been in touch as well as the many who have not.

Family and friends:

This Passover, and last night’s seder in particular, is especially poignant and, in some ways, quite strange.  We know that many in the U.S. are opposed to the war or, if not that, are conflicted about it.  We know that includes many American Jews, including those that care about Israel.

We understand that position from an American perspective: the economy, being seen (wrongly, in our view) as the aggressor, the cost, the price of a gallon of gas, dislike of President Trump, lack of clear messaging, apparent lack of a well thought-out strategy, etc.

(We are also cognizant of the shock and the feelings of vulnerability and isolation that many American Jews feel due to the startling increase in Jew-hatred in America and around the world.)

Most Israelis, including us, see it from a different perspective. We see an axis that bombarded our north and south with missiles for over two decades, that viciously attacked us on Oct. 7, 2023, that continues to bombard us to this day, that repeatedly declares its intention to destroy us, that dedicates itself to developing the weapons to do so, and that appeared to becoming very close to being in a position to do so.

Regardless of possible differences in perspective, we REALLY APPECIATE the messages of concern and support we have received.  At a time when we are running for cover, when our lives and movement are restricted and fraught with danger, when we are sustaining injuries and deaths, when our young people are making the ultimate sacrifice, when our neighbors with young children are under incredible strain, when we are feeling very isolated and alone, your messages have been a lifeline, a reminder that people care, that we are not alone.

We’re hanging in there.  It does take its toll.  Everyone is weary. It seems that in Jerusalem the frequency of attacks has decreased a bit the last 48 hours. But we’ve had periods like that before.  The north is getting hit hard by Hezbollah.  And they get no warning—they have to get to a shelter in 15 seconds.

The center of the country and Tel Aviv are still getting hit hard by Iran.  Our daughter in Tel Aviv  had them at 9 and 9:30 Monday night and then, starting about 7:45 yesterday morning, had about four in the course of two hours.  Many were wondering how they would cook for the seder while running to shelters.

The shelter, the siren, and the check please

(Originally published in The Times of Israel)

Three weeks into the war and I'd say we are tired, weary, worried, united, committed, sometimes uplifted, and resolute.  We have a routine of sorts.  We've adapted.

Me: Want to go to dinner? Restaurant A or Restaurant B?

Wife: B. It's less expensive and less formal.  I'd rather be interrupted and run for shelter from there.

Waitress:  Can I have your phone number?

Us:  Sure. Why?

Waitress:  In case of a Tzeva Adom (red alert).  Some customers "forget" to come back and pay after spending time in the shelter.

I've been reading an 880 page book, the biography of William F. Buckley, Jr., a seminal figure in America's modern conservative movement.  I've gotten through 550 pages. Three-fourths of my reading has been done in 15 minute timeframes while sitting in the shelter up the block from our apartment.  Neighbors have asked about this big, heavy book I lug up to the shelter night and day. Now there is interest in what will be finished first: the book or the war.

One of the neighbors we have gotten to know in the shelter, an upbeat woman with a Ph.D. in a science, likes to take long showers, a risky endeavor these days.  She's figured out that, based on the history, the most unlikely time for missiles being aimed at us is 4:00 a.m.  So she got up at 4:00 a.m. to take a long shower.  A smart, or a mad, scientist.

Everyone has his or her own way of adapting to the situation. Everyone has their own tolerance for risk, for what makes them uncomfortable, and for what doesn't.  It is not all logical.

We take walks in the neighborthood.  We are always cognizant of where the nearest public shelter is, what apartment building might have a shelter we could use, how long it would take to run to a shelter.

It helps to use an app that plots out the nearest public shelter and how far away it is.  I have it on my phone.  It is red and has a person sitting under a roof with three missiles pointing down at it.  It is called "Bomb Shelter."  Very subtle.

Red alerts and clown noses: Purim under fire

 (Originally published in The Times of Israel)

It has been quite a Shushan Purim in Jerusalem.

We were awaken to a tzeva adom (a red alert) at around 6:00 a.m.  Nothing like running half asleep to the shelter down the street to get a morning off to a quick start.  No coffee needed.  After visiting with our neighbors in the shelter–we've gotten to know some very nice people the last few days–the all-clear sounded and we headed home.

One of the most difficult challenges of this war has been deciding when it is safe to jump in the shower.  After there has been quiet for a while?  Right after an all-clear, the thinking being it will take them a while to launch the next round?  Who knows?  In any event, I got a quick one in.

The rest of the morning was quiet.  Or, I should say, free of missiles.  I could hear the sounds of Purim from the streets.  Singing, kids laughing,  glasses clinking.  In the early afternoon I decided it was safe enough to take a walk in the neighborhood to soak up the atmosphere.  Lots of kids and adults in costume.  A festive atmosphere despite the tension and worry in the air.

Then, an alert sounded.  I floundered for a moment, until a man with a big red clown's nose on his face and clown's shoes on his feet told me to follow him to the nearest shelter.  Only in Jerusalem on Shushan Purim would I put my life in the hands of a guy with a clown's nose and shoes.  But it worked.  I spent about 10 minutes in the shelter with my new clown friend, lots of cute Queen Esthers, 10 year-old breakdancers, and soccer players, among others.

The all-clear sounded and I started what I thought was a leisurely stroll back to our apartment.  Another alert went off.  I was too far from the shelter I had left but not close enough to the one on our street.  So I again followed the crowd and found myself with another group of Purim celebrators.  This time there was an assortment of dogs with them.

Another all-clear and I got home.  Thinking the action was over for the day, I was relaxing or, I should say, doing the best imitation of relaxing that one can do in these circumstances, when at around 4:15 this afternoon, another alert went off.  If we are reducing Iran's ability to fire missiles, we have not experienced it today.  Could they be throwing some last Hail Mary's?  Should I be bringing Mary into this?  Aren't things complicated enough?

It is not lost on Israelis that we are taking on an evil Persian regime, and that we killed an evil Persion leader, while we mark a holiday that celebrates the demise of Haman, an evil Persian Prime Minister who wanted to exterminate the Jews and who was stopped by the heroic action of the Jewish Queen Esther.

It also is not lost on Israelis and many Iranians that the Persian King Cyrus ended the Babylonian captivity in 539-538 BCE by issuing a decree allowing the Jews to return to Jerusalem, financed the rebuilding of the Second Temple, and permitted religious freedom, and that, if things go well, the Jewish nation, in partnership with the U.S., might return the favor 3100 years later.  What goes around sometimes does come around, we hope.

Friends and acquaintances abroad understandably have many questions and concerns regarding the war or, as some American politicians prefer to label it, operation or action.  Secret: It is a war.