Jewish Holy War

Modern Israel experienced the Independence War of 1948, and then the Sinai War of 1956, to be followed by the Six-Day War of 1967. This last war brought about not peace, but two more wars: the War of Attrition and the Yom Kippur War of 1973. These wars of “existence” were duly followed by a succession of other wars, somewhat smaller in scale–and please, faithful readers, forgive me if I forget a war or two, as I’m not a historian–such as the first and second Lebanon Wars; the first and second Intifada Wars, and a few wars/operations in the Gaza Strip, the last one being Operation Iron Cast. As a matter of fact, we are due for another good war pretty soon. It might be another large-scale operation in Gaza, or better still, the mother of all wars: the “Iran War.” Or, it might just be the “Jewish Holy War.”

This is not my idea, matter-of-factly, as it came from the mouth a young settler, Liat Weisel, who belongs to the “Hilltop Youth” faction, the tip of the spear of the Israeli Settlers Movement. Those who build unauthorized, illegal outposts on every hill not yet occupied by them in the West Bank, regardless of who owns it. One does think, and it certainly looks that way on maps and from bird-eye views, that the whole place is already occupied and built. But then Liat and her zealot friends consider the Palestinian People as occupiers, as she described it to an NPR reporter in an interview she gave January 9. This same group, the descendent of Gush Emunim, is now engaged in war of its own making. Not only do they refuse to evacuate their illegal outpost, as mandate by the Israeli High Court, but they are also sending email death-threat messages to any member of the Knesset, or the government itself, who considers voting to authorize the army to dismantle their outpost. She does not object to attack on Israeli military bases either, as indeed they did, or attacks against Palestinians, which have reacently—under the banner of “Price Tags”—included burning mosques and destroying property. All these acts, in her view, are parts for the cause: a Jewish Holy War.

The Jewish Holy War, therefore, is directed not only against the Arab population in the West bank, but also against Israel as a democratic, largely secular state. Which brings into mind another, and larger question: i.e., the survival of democracy and pluralism in Israel as we know it. The old Jewish State is facing an assault from religious extremists coming from all direction. This is a war, my friends, whether you want to admit it or not. A case in point: in another interview, Benny Katzover, a settler leader, actually called for the end of democracy in Israel. As reported in Haaretz, January 8, he told Beit Mashiach, the journal of the messianic faction of the Chabad Movement, that “the main role of Israeli democracy now is to disappear. Israeli democracy has finished its role, and it must disassemble and give way to Judaism”. But wait, before you – since, indeed, most of you either supported or did not object to the settlers movement as it mushroomed beyond all proportions – dismiss it as a fringe faction that carry no weight or consequences, let me remind you that there are now over 500,000 settlers sitting pretty in the West Bank. There is no force that exists in today’s Israel that could peacefully, legally, and maybe even forcefully, evacuate these people from their “homes”. It is with sadness, then, desperation and resignation, that I–a longtime supporter of the two-state solution–admit that it all but a dead corpse now. Only a miracle can resurrect it, and I don’t see it coming.

The sad reality in Israel today is that in the battle between war and peace, the war has won. And though I knew war, I belonged most of my adult life to the peace camp, both in Israel and here in America. It is therefore very tough on me to admit it, yet we have lost the battle. Gush Emunim, the Messianic Settlers Movement, has won the day. As an idealist, I want to believe that there’s still a slim chance to reverse course, and avoid the fateful, disastrous path the zealots are leading us to. But as a realist, which unfortunately I’m becoming with the passing of years, I know that this is not the case. Just listen to what another leader of that movement had lately said: The proof to who’s leading Israel now, is in the fact that this year more people attended the memorial to Mair Kahana, the murdered leader who envisioned that settlers movement, than those who attended the memorial to the assassinated–by one of these zealots–former Israel’s prime minister, and seeker of peace, Yitzhak Rabin. If it’s true, then nothing signify more the triumph of the war camp over the peace camp; the death of the old, democratic, civic, mostly peace loving Israel, and the birth of an autocratic, religiously, fanatically ruled state; which–sooner or later, with its own brand of Jihad, the Jewish Holy War–will lead to its destruction.

There Are Atheists in the Foxholes

The assault began shortly after midnight. The glorious moon, high above us in the starry night, still held its hypnotic grip on me, before I fully understood what was going on. A bullet did the job alright, when it grazed my hamlet and threw me down into the shallow foxhole. You’re the commander of this unit, I had to remind myself, and in charge of protecting the strategically important Beam Position –Mutzav Keren – perched on a small hill above the Jordan River.

The cry of help from an injured soldier snapped me out of my temporary stupor, and I assumed command immediately. We were attacked from a short-range, and from all directions, except from behind, by small firearms. The attackers had already crossed the river, and were very close to us by now, intending on capturing our position. Some of my soldiers, veterans of the Six-Day War, were already returning fire, while I zigzagged along the winding foxholes, encouraging the younger soldiers to join them. I was able to spot where the rapid fire was coming from, and thus direct my soldiers to return fire. There were grenades thrown at us, though luckily they fell short of our foxholes. We were doing well enough to defend ourselves and our position, when quite suddenly prevailed.

It enabled us to regroup and take care of our wounded. But the quiet was ominous, and behinds us at the command center the “big heads” warned me to stay on the alert. And sure enough, I soon heard a muffled boom coming from far on the other side of the border, then a terrifying whistle, before the bomb landed two meters in front of us. The blast pushed me hard against the foxhole’s wall, covering me with dust. Then it rained on us: not today’s huge bombs, but whatever the Palestinian fighters were using at the time, Russian made mostly. In spite of the horror, and the cries of the injured, I was able to radio for help, receiving the Israeli army much superior firepower. It took some three hours of continuing fighting and bombardment before the surviving terrorists retreated back across the river. All fire ceased then, and our wounded were evacuated to Jerusalem.

I breathed deeply, reflectively, reassuring myself that it was all over: we won the day and no soldier of mine was dead. I was alive, floating in the predawn air – just an Israeli soldier defending the Jewish State, who didn’t say a prayer to God even once throughout the assault. Nor did I thank him now. No wonder, considering I was born to parents who left God at the concentration camps. I took my grazed helmet off, and against army regulation lit a cigarette, nodding my soldiers to do likewise. I blew rings of smoke into the gentle breeze, hypnotized again by the bright moon and its reflection, going down for a dip in the placid waters. I was celebrating nature – my true friend and guardian – and the standstill of time.