Yael Dayan

Yael Dayan speaks at Temple Israel, Portsmouth on November 9th 2010

Yael Dayan was the first Knesset member to meet with Yasser Arafat, in 1993 in Tunis. She is the daughter of the famous IDF general, Moshe Dayan. Diminutive in stature, she more than makes up for it in personality. A lot of what she has to say is unpopular both in Israel and the United States.

She started off by pointing out to us the irony of J Street’s slogan: “Pro Israel, Pro Peace.” The fact that this is even a slogan is sad, she said, because it implies that you can also be pro Israel and against peace. And that should never be the case. Israel must always be pro peace. We should no longer be questioning its right to exist or its ability to survive, but instead we should be asking the real questions, like:

How do you manage a democracy/theocracy?

How do you manage a democracy lacking in pluralism?

How do you manage a democracy taking in immigrants from so many different cultures?

Israel should not have to choose between being a Jewish state and being a democratic state. The Zionist dream has become an occupier while we sit silently by. Israel has to be the first to show it is pro-peace – not build settlements while bilateral talks are about to start.

The Six Day War was a very meaningful event in Israel’s statehood and in our collective minds. There was a huge sense of euphoria and of victory. We thought it was the war to end all wars. This and the Yom Kippur wars were our last no-choice, defensive wars. The two Lebanon wars and the Gaza war were disasters and delayed our chance for peace. The other extremely meaningful event in Israel’s history is the assassination of Yitzhak Rabin. We must remember that his assassin was not a mad-man, but instead someone whose fanaticism had been nurtured.

The settlements were started for reasons of defense, but they are illegal. Just because you say you hear the voice of God does not make them legal.

Here in 2010 we are back at the negotiating table. And I am more interested in Israel’s rhetoric. Are we a good partner for peace? We have a foreign minister who does not want peace and a prime minister who talks peace but makes war. We have seen a regression from basic democratic values; no official should stand between you and your better judgment, between you and your sense of justice.

Yael Dayan ended by saying: We are so used to being victims; no-one can take that away from us. We say, indignantly: “They will pressure us? The only democracy in the Middle East? Survivors of the holocaust?”

La Juderia de Malaga

Malaga - excerpt from "Toreador"

Fernando looked up and for a moment I saw anguish in his eyes. But as his eyes looked into mine their expression softened and I was happy to see a smile appear on his gorgeous face. His eyes crinkled and he shook himself a little, as if to expel some demons.

“Nada, mi bonita,” he said, standing up and pulling me up with him. “Nothing, my pretty. Let’s go and have some fun.”

It was twilight when we hit the street, the sunset lending an orange-pink glow to everything. Fernando took my hand, no trace of his earlier unease visible in his demeanor. We set off at a leisurely pace, leaving the hotel Maestranza in the direction of the paseo maritimo, which ran along the waterfront of the Malagueta beach.

“There’s a great flamenco place near here,” Fernando said, strolling beside me in that fluid way of his. One of my hands was ensconced in his, but there was some distance between us.

“It’s been years since I’ve seen a flamenco performance. And even then I don’t think it was a very authentic one.” I said.

“Then you are going to enjoy this, you’ll see,” Fernando smiled.

The place Fernando took me to was tucked away in a side street and I’m sure that if you didn’t know it was there you would not have noticed its existence. The sign outside which said “La Caverna” was only dimly lit and the doorway was small and barely visible. Fernando led me inside holding on tight to my hand. And as soon as we were inside I could see why – it was obviously a popular place with the locals. We could hardly find room to stand, but somehow we made it to the bar and Fernando ordered a glass of wine for me and water for him.

As I waited for him to get our drinks I surveyed the place. It was surprisingly full for this early hour, the only free space the slightly raised, very big square stage at the back of the dark, low-ceilinged room. On both sides of the stage was a low wooden chair and behind it a dark red velvet curtain hung. Fernando appeared at my side and said:

“Looks like we’re not going to be able to sit down.”

“It looks that way,” I agreed.

“The first guitarists should be out any minute; I asked,” he said.

I sipped my wine and moved my body in a little closer to his, thinking he would put his arm around me. But instead I felt him stiffen a little and move away the tiniest bit. It reminded me of his similar reaction back at the hotel and I wondered again why he was behaving in this uncharacteristic way.

I was toying with the idea of saying something when, without any type of announcement, three men appeared from behind the curtain onto the stage. Two of them carried guitars and one a box. The three of them had thick black hair that fell in curls and waves to their shoulders and their skin was dark and pockmarked. The one with the box, a scowl of concentration on his face, set it down, sat on it and looked to the guitarists, who were making themselves comfortable on their little chairs. A hush came over the bar as the three regarded each other and then simultaneously broke into an upbeat rumba. The box turned out to be a percussion instrument, which I watched with fascination for a moment, never having seen one.

I enjoyed the music and became entranced as people started to pair up and dance. If you didn’t know how, there was really no way to move to this strident, vigorous rhythm, so I was happy to watch others. The dancers, men and women dancing in couples, expressed a controlled sensuality that was impossible not to watch. Raw emotion mixed with an animal grace that infused their bodies. I turned to look at Fernando, meaning to smile at him and show my enjoyment of the place he had brought me to, but I caught on his face an expression I had not expected to see. Preoccupation and something that looked very much like fear. I wanted to bring him back to the moment so I moved in front of him, my back to him, and pulled his arms around me to rest on my tummy. After a moment’s hesitation he squeezed me hard and buried his face in my neck, under my hair. I could feel soft his lips there and I closed my eyes to savor the sensation.

An hour must have gone by in which we were unable to speak because of the loudness of the music in the small space. We watched the dancers, listened to the musicians and then as suddenly as they had appeared, they left the stage.

Fernando kissed me with a feather-like touch of his lips and said:

“Would you like to get something to eat or watch more of this?”

I realized I was hungry so opted for the former.

Out in the street night had fallen and the air was filled with the delicious salty tang of the sea. I breathed it in and closed my eyes, holding tight to Fernando’s hand.

He smiled for the first time since we had left the hotel.

“Are you having a good time?” he asked.

“I always have a good time when I’m with you,” I answered, putting my arms around him and drawing his face down to mine. He kissed me, but I felt a certain restraint and he gently but quickly broke out of my embrace.

We strolled back along the ocean front until we reached a restaurant named Sal Gorda, which, once we were inside, I saw was entirely decorated with bullfighting paraphernalia. Fernando told me the restaurant belonged to the matador Manuel Garcia’s family. We found a table against the wall under a mounted bull’s head and almost immediately a short balding man with glasses was clapping Fernando on the back.

“Hombre, I was wondering when you’d turn up!” he said cheerfully. “How have you been?”

“Manuel, let me introduce my friend Miriam,” Fernando answered, smiling as he pulled me forward.

“Encantado,” Manuel Sr. said, kissing my cheeks. “Enchanted.”

“Manuel owns this wonderful restaurant,” Fran told me with a twinkle in his eye. “And tomorrow his son and I are in the same corrida.”

Manuel Sr. smiled proudly.

“As always, I am both excited and terrified,” he said with disarming honesty. He took our drinks order and Fernando looked around the restaurant, seeming distracted and a little ill at ease. He did not meet my eyes.

I was toying with the idea of telling Fernando my discovery of my grandmother’s religion but just as I had decided that I would, his cell phone rang.

As soon as he answered it his face clouded over and he got up to take the call in private, at the back of the restaurant. I watched him there, gesticulating with one arm and obviously having an argument.

He came back to the table and still without really looking at me properly said he had to go. His uncle had arrived in Malaga earlier than expected and there was something they urgently had to discuss.

“What are you going to do?” he asked me, his tone softening a little. “Would you like to stay here and have your drink or go back to the hotel?”

“I’ll stay here,” I said, making the decision to my own surprise.

In the end Fernando stayed and had his drink too, before leaving. I wasn’t entirely sure why Luis would need to talk to Fernando in person at this time of night but I didn’t press the issue and after one more drink with Manuel and his very amiable friends I set off for a solitary stroll which lead me down to the beach. I took my shoes off and enjoyed the feel of the sand between my toes, walking right down to the water’s edge. The ebb and flow of the warm sea over my toes was very soothing and I felt myself relax a little. So the evening hadn’t gone quite as planned. But still here I was, in Malaga with Fernando. After a while I sat down in the sand and regarded the silver path the moon etched on the sea. Other people passed me on the sand: young couples, couples with children, and a few solitary strollers like me.

I sat there for a while, not wanting to hurry back to the hotel to sit in the room by myself for hours. But eventually I did get up and started back, taking Arenal St. As I was nearing the corner with Reding St., where the hotel was, I was surprised to find someone falling in step beside me. I looked up quickly, feeling panic rise in me when I didn’t recognize who it was straight away. But then the man beside me turned to me and I saw that it was Fernando’s uncle, Luis.

“Oh, hello,” I said, surprised and relieved. “I thought you and Fernando were together.”

“We finished,” Luis answered shortly. “I wanted a word with you as well.”

“You did?” I was even more surprised.

“I wanted to tell you that it would be in your own best interests not see Fernando anymore after you get back to Ronda,” he said clearly and without emotion.

I stopped in my tracks and looked at him.

“Now why on earth would you say that to me?”

Luis ignored my question and went on in the same manner as before.

“Don’t say anything to him tonight – you don’t want to upset him in any way before a corrida.”

I remained rooted to the spot. I was being told by Fernando’s close family member and mentor to stay away from him but to pretend, for now, that nothing was going on? My head reeled and I had a sudden strong urge to get away from this man, his bulk seeming suddenly menacing beside me.

“Good night,” I said and took off as fast as my shoes allowed me to.

White City of Tel Aviv

CAMERA presentation at Temple Israel, Porstmouth

I had been looking forward to the CAMERA (Committee for Accuracy in Middle East Reporting in America) presentation to be held at our temple on October 17^th. I guess I should have known better. The first speaker was Ari Alexenberg of the Israel Action Center of the Jewish Community Relations Council of Greater Boston. A Temple member and knowledgeable and affable man, he started off by quoting Jose Maria Aznar:

“Israel is a fundamental part of the West. The West is what it is thanks to its Judeo-Christian roots. If the Jewish element of those roots is upturned and Israel is lost, then we are lost too. Whether we like it or not, our fate is inextricably intertwined.” (The Times, June 17, 2010)

This is not the exact same quote that he used, but they were words to that effect, also spoken by Aznar. I was pleased and surprised that anyone in this country would start off their speech by quoting a Spaniard. Spain is almost completely ignored in the US, for reasons I have still to figure out.

Alexenberg went on to explain that the 2001 conference on racism in Durban, South Africa, was the start of the “soft war” against Israel. It was a conference that rapidly turned into a hate-fest directed at Israel, where it was accused of genocide, of being an apartheid state and of crimes against humanity. And this was all before the current coalition government, which includes Yisrael Beteinu and Shas, came into power . It’s all in the choice of words, Alexenberg told us. The campaign to delegitimize Israel is stronger in the European Union, where Arabs, post-Zionist Jews and the political left wing are busy using a strategy that blurs the lines between legitimate criticism of Israel and outright attacks on Israel, questioning its right to exist.

Next Alexenberg mentioned Natan Sharansky’s 3 “D”s: Double-standards, Delegitimizing and Demonizing. The campaign to delegitimize Israel seriously limits its right to defend itself. Whenever it takes any action it has to be on the defensive right from the start.

The next speaker was Steven Stotsky, a senior research analyst with CAMERA and a man singularly lacking in charisma. After some technical difficulties with his laptop he presented us with a slideshow in which he highlighted the following, to name but a few.

On October 13^th 2010 the Netanyahu government offered a freeze on all settlement building in return for recognition (by the Palestinians) of Israel as a Jewish state. The Palestinians’ answer was no.

The Arab countries around Israel occupy 5,000,000m2. Israel occupies 10,000m2. Stotsky told us that this fact is worth keeping in mind when “land for peace” is being discussed.

In 1967 the UN passed resolution 242 which calls Gaza and the West Bank “disputed” rather than “occupied” territories.

Anti-Zionism is anti-Semitism. It is denying the Jewish people a state of their own.

The UN Human Rights Council has passed more resolutions condemning Israel than all the other 191 countries combined. Apparently there is a standing item on the agenda that is Israel’s human rights violations.

The following Jews were named for their extreme views and strong efforts to delegitimize Israel: Richard Falk, Ilan Pappe, Neve Gordon and Norman Finkelstein.

Organizations to be avoided as anti-Semitic are: Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, Jewish Voice for Peace, International Solidarity Movement and Jews for Justice for Palestinians.

When Jeff Goldberg (I have always enjoyed his advice column in The Atlantic) was mentioned, his name was followed by “not a great friend to Israel.” I was surprised, although at this point maybe I shouldn’t have been. After all, Goldberg, for one, has come down hard on J Street after it is becoming less and less clear if they are really pro-Israel. And speaking of which, the last person Stotsky mentioned was Daniel Levy of J Street, who allegedly said that the founding of Israel was wrong.

The next speaker was Jerry White. I didn’t take a single note of his presentation because as soon as he started to talk I knew I wasn’t going to like what he had to say. Although I did not realize to what extent that would turn out to be true. He had a loud, strident manner of speaking and although he seemed amusing (if grating) at first, it soon became clear that he was arrogant and pompous. He told us that we have an insidious enemy in our midst, and that enemy is every liberal progressive “Jew” (his speech marks). He urged us to listen to Conservative talk radio and befriend Evangelical Christians (all of whom want us to return to Israel to bring about their Messiah's Second Coming, not because they care in the least about us). Then he told us to stay away from the New York Times and PBS and ended by calling left wing Jews “vermin.”

Now the funny thing is that I knew that his name was White and that he was originally from Canada, but it took going to his break out session to confront him for the penny to drop. And even then it took a while. He was sitting in the library with a small group of people, amongst them a familiar face.

“Lily!” I exclaimed. “How are you?”

“Oh hello” she answered. “Have you spoken to Karen lately?”

“Not very recently,” I answered.

“She’s pregnant.”

“Mazal tov!” I said, as inside it was beginning to dawn on me: this man who I had come to argue with was my good friend’s father-in-law. Oh well, I thought. I am not one to be shut up that easily.

I opened by saying: “You said that you’d be happy if people were angry with you when you had finished speaking. Well, be happy. I’m angry.”

He seemed more taken aback than anything else.

“Are you telling me that I cannot be a liberal progressive and a Jew?” I went on.

“No, you cannot,” he answered coolly. “You will have to relearn your Jewish values.”

“And who gave you the authority to decide who is a Jew?” I asked.

Someone else piped up at this moment and backed me up.

Before I had had enough of listening to his loud and deeply narrow-minded views, I asked him if he thought that Avigdor Lieberman might have something to do with Israel’s current unpopularity.

“Avigdor Lieberman is a great man,” He answered.

Lehitra’ot, Jerry.

Malaga

Excerpt from "Toreador"

When I awoke from my fitful night’s sleep Fernando was gone. The rumpled sheet on the couch confirmed to me where he had slept. I got up and headed to the shower, where I lingered for a long time. I couldn’t help but fantasize that Fernando would join me under the cascading water, but when I got out to dry myself I was just as alone as I had been before. I got dressed in a little white dress covered in small red flowers and tied my long hair in a high pony-tail. Then I headed downstairs to the hotel lobby, where the receptionist told me that Fernando was having breakfast with his entourage in a café next door. Hesitating only a moment, I left the hotel and found where they were easily enough. They were quite a crowd and their voices traveled out into the street. I walked into the café and saw them all seated at a long table littered with the remnants of breakfast.

Javier was the first one to see me and he gestured for me to join them in an unusually friendly manner. I walked over to the table full of only men feeling self-conscious and a little uncomfortable, and noticed that Fernando did not even look up. When I saw this I almost turned and walked back out, but I pulled up a chair beside Javier and he immediately ordered me a cup of café con leche.

“Buenos dias, señorita,” he said, turning to me with a small smile. The rest of the table mumbled the same words and the combined effect was that of a wave washing over me. Fernando glanced up at me and I saw something close to pain twist his face. I wondered if his uncle had something to him about me, but I knew there was no way I was going to find out what was wrong until after the fight. The idea was like a knife in my heart and the day stretched like a desert before me.

Breakfast was a fairly leisurely affair for the cuadrilla. Lots of coffee was consumed and the upcoming fight was discussed from all angles: the bulls, the toreros sharing the cartel (including Javier Conde, whose father I had met the night before), the weather and the president of La Malagueta were some of the topics they touched on. I listened to everything and did my best to avoid looking at Fernando. When Fernando got up, the rest of the cuadrilla and I followed suit. The cuadrilla headed back to their hostel down the street and Fernando waited uncomfortably for me. When I reached his side he made an effort to look at me and said:

“I’m going to be resting until Pablo comes to help me dress at around 3.30pm. You are free to come, of course, but I won’t be very good company.”

I looked into his eyes. I still saw something there that didn’t look quite right.

“I’d like to go and walk around a bit,” I said. “I’ll be back later.”

Fernando nodded and smiled a little.

“Have fun. I’ll see you when you get back.” He gave me a quick peck on the cheek and disappeared into the hotel.

I had decided than rather than spend the rest of the day enduring an uncomfortable situation, it made more sense to walk away from it and to do some sightseeing – I was particularly interested in seeing the Juderia, the Jewish quarter. And sometimes it was lonelier to be somewhere you didn’t feel wanted than to be by yourself.

The Jewish quarter, on Agustin and Alcazabilla streets was picturesque but there was nothing much left of its history. I was informed by some friendly people in the bar where I stopped for another coffee, however, that this was going to change. Apparently the current Jewish community in Malaga was planning quite an overhaul of the neighborhood, including rebuilding the synagogue. I managed to pass the whole morning walking around the city, but I did eventually start to feel quite tired so I headed back to the hotel. When I opened the door I found the room quiet and dark; I saw that Fran was asleep on the bed. His vulnerable expression was one I loved and it was extremely difficult for me not to bend over and kiss him. Instead I made my way over to the sofa and lay down. Within minutes I was asleep, tired as I was from not sleeping the night before and from all the walking I had done.

When I awoke and sat up, I saw Fernando kneeling in front of a makeshift altar, his back to me. The altar consisted of several photos of different virgins whose names I did not know, three candles, a rosary and two small statues of virgins. For a moment I watched, transfixed. Then I saw that Luis was in the room as well and when he saw me looking at me he gestured for me to come over to him. Reluctantly I did so. When I was at his side he whispered:

“I didn’t want to wake you, but could you make yourself scarce until the corrida starts while Fernando gets ready? It is best if he has no distractions.”

I shook my head, as much to get rid of this day as my grogginess. Why was Fernando allowing his uncle to treat me this way? Or did he have no idea of what was going on? Although I would have had little problem with getting out of the way if Fernando had asked me himself, I didn’t understand why Luis was acting the way he was. With resignation I made my way downstairs and out into the street. I started to walk in the general direction of La Malagueta, Malaga’s bullring, wondering what to do with my time. I passed an inviting terrace where I sat myself down and ordered a large cup of coffee. I had not had any lunch but I couldn’t face the prospect of eating. As I sipped the strong hot coffee I felt myself calm down a little. After all, what did I know about bullfighters, really? It was not that hard to imagine that they would need to be able to focus utterly on the job at hand. And keeping in mind the effect Fernando and I seemed to have on one another, I could definitely see how I would be a distraction. But what if he was using his uncle as a means to pushing me away? Part of me wanted to get on a train and head back to Ronda. But another part, the less proud one, wanted to just ride out the day to see if it would end on a happier note.

I arrived at La Malagueta half an hour before the start of the fight. I was just wondering how I was going to get in without paying when I saw Javier, wearing his suit of lights, near the main entrance. I waved to him and he beckoned me over. I followed him through the entrance where the picadors and their horses would later enter the ring. I found myself in the callejon, the passageway that runs around the entire ring just in front of the first row of seats. Miguel, the mozo de espadas, hoisted me up into the first row of seats where I found a spot right next to the entrance through which the bullfights would appear. I could look down on Fernando’s head, and I did. The time passed surprisingly quickly this way and the next thing I knew the alguaciles were riding into the ring, followed by the toreros.

Fernando was the senior matador, so he headed the procession on the left. His three banderilleros made up the second row. As I watched them I realized my body was tense, as if I were ready to jump up out of my seat. I took some slow, deep breaths and tried to relax. The first bull in the ring was Fernando’s. He was a big brown bull, weighing 548kg, by the name of Caprichoso. With a flourish and a smile Fernando dedicated the bull to the audience, a common and always well-received gesture. As I watched the ensuing fight, I almost forgot the last twenty-four hours. Caprichoso and Fernando connected and put on a beautiful show. At times, Fernando let Caprichoso come so close to him I felt like my heart might stand still. The culmination was a swift and merciful death for the bull and two ears for Fernando. I watched the other two matadors as closely as I was able to, wanting to learn more about this beautiful, brutal art form, but I was easily distracted by Fernando’s presence at the side of the ring (the senior matador is responsible for helping the others out if something should go wrong) and found my eyes wandering in his direction more often than not.

When it was time for his second bull, the fourth one out, his work with the cape left me breathless. It was absolutely stunning. He received the bull straight out of the door down on one knee, and the pink and yellow cape swirled above his head as the bull thundered past. As the bull turned back toward him he was ready and received him with a chiquelina, a movement that brought the bull close past him and ended up by wrapping the cape around his body. I was utterly bewitched by what I was witnessing. After several more breath-taking passes – butterflies and veronicas – the picadors entered the ring. The bull was a strong one, 569kg, midnight black, named Granero. Fernando took him to the picador twice and then placed the banderillas himself. It was terrifying to watch and I was glad when it was over. I was so absorbed in watching the corrida that it took me a moment to fully realize that Fernando was looking at me, and walking towards where I was sitting with his montera in his hand. When I did realize what was happening I stood up and took the montera from an out-stretched hand that was passing it from Fernando to me. I felt a huge grin break out on my face and on Fernando’s face I saw a more controlled but nonetheless genuine. It was as if our distance of the past day had never been. The faena that Fernando performed was a true work of art, better even than I had seen him perform in Seville. The killing was so swift and clean that the bull fell almost immediately, and the crowd went wild. The whole plaza seating was white with the waving of handkerchiefs. Fernando was awarded two ears and the tail, a rare trophy. He was carried out on shoulders and without hesitation I left my seat and made my way outside, hoping to be able to get to him. I was still clutching his montera to my chest, and, seeing it, the crowd outside made an effort to let me through. When I reached Fernando he was back on his own two feet, surrounded by people wanting to congratulate him, touch him and ask for his autograph. He was just handing someone back their pen when he spotted me and his face broke into that smile I had grown to love. My heart lifted as he opened his arms as best as he could and I stepped into them. The crowd broke into cheers and whistles as we kissed, and even though the rigid jacket of his suit of lights created a barrier between us I felt my familiar desire for him well up inside me. He must have felt it too because he started to work his way through the crowd towards where the van stood with Pablo ready at the wheel. It was customary for toreros to go to and from the plaza in a vehicle – you would never see one walking the streets in his suit of lights, no matter how close the hotel may be. He continued to be polite to his fans, posing for photos and signing autographs, but his progress towards the vehicle was steady and he didn’t let go of my hand. I could see several press photographers also present, snapping away at Fernando and at me – I guessed that we would be featured in the gossip magazines within the next few days.

We finally made it to the van and got into the back. I hadn’t been inside it before and I was interested to see that it was separated from the driver by a thick black screen. As soon as the door was closed and the blackened windows provided privacy, Fernando said:

“Help me with my jacket, mi amor.”

My heart beat faster at the sound of his voice speaking the endearment. As soon as the jacket was off I lost myself in his arms. All was forgiven. I didn’t care what had happened before – this moment was pure joy. The hotel was close and soon we were falling into the room together.

“I have to shower before everyone gets here,” Fernando said breathlessly. Wordlessly I accompanied him into the bathroom and under the pounding water of the shower we devoured each other as if it were the first time. When it was over I felt my tears mix with the water from the shower, and when Fernando turned off the shower he saw that I was crying. Still wet, he pulled me to him.

“I’m so sorry for what I put you through,” he said. “I should have warned you, but I thought it would be different for me this time.”

“What do you mean?” I whispered.

“I always withdraw emotionally and physically before a fight, but I thought that with you I wouldn’t do that,” he explained. “I’m sorry, my love.”

My heart was practically bursting with forgiveness. How could it not? As I toweled myself dry, Fernando pulled on some shorts and combed his thick, black hair.

“Will you put on a t-shirt, too?” I asked. “I don’t like the way some of those women look at you.”

Fernando threw back his head and laughed.

“That’s the most adorable thing I have heard for a long time,” he said, pulling on a white t-shirt with a smile.

Rejoneador Sergio Galan

Excerpt from "Toreador"

When I got home I was tempted to go back to Abuela’s study to keep reading her letters, but I was tired so I ended up napping in front of the TV for about an hour. I woke up groggy and went to splash cold water on my face and brush my long dirty blonde hair. I applied a little make-up, locked the front door and headed for Armiñan road. The bar was much more crowded that it had been the night before. Jaime’s entire cuadrilla were there with their assorted friends and family members, as well as regular customers and tourists. It took me a moment to spot Raquel. She was leaning into Jaime who was sitting on a bar stool beside her at the bar. They were both listening intently to someone who had his back to me, and as I got a little closer I realized it was Fernando. My heart fluttered a little in my chest and for a second I hesitated in my stride although I was not entirely sure why.

Raquel saw me first, of course, and greeted me cheerfully.

“There you are!” she said. Fernando turned and smiled at me, and I noticed immediately that the smile seemed strained and did not reach his eyes.

“Good evening,” he said.

“Good evening,” I answered. Then I turned to Jaime and said, because I had not had a chance to do so before:

“I really enjoyed watching you this afternoon. You must be exhausted.”

“Too keyed up to feel tired,” he answered with a grin. “I drew good bulls and feel very fortunate today.”

Fernando shook his head and said: “I’m sorry I missed it.”

He didn’t explain, however, why he had. He also made no mention of Javier and I having spoken. I had no way of knowing if he had even heard about it. I sort of hoped that he hadn’t. He now asked me what I would like to drink and within seconds, it seemed, I had a vodka lemon in my hand. I took a long draught thankfully.

“So tell me what you thought of your first corrida,” Fernando said, his full attention on my face.

“Well, I have to be honest and say that I was prepared to hate it, but actually, I thought it was rather beautiful.” I answered, trying not to be disconcerted by his proximity and by his dark, dark eyes.

“What in particular did you find beautiful?” he asked.

“The bulls are breath-taking,” I said. “The color of the sand; the movements of the torero, his suit of lights – I was very moved by the corrida as a whole. I really had no idea how many rituals it involved…”

Fernando smiled at me, and this time it reached his eyes and they crinkled enchantingly.

“I’m not really finding the right words,” I smiled too. “I feel quite naïve amongst all of you.”

“You will find more words as you become more familiar with the art,” Fernando said. “You were lucky to see such a good corrida. If you had seen a bad one you would have almost certainly had a different opinion of our fiesta nacional.”

“What would a bad corrida look like?” I asked, curious.

“Bulls that don’t charge; bulls that charge with their horns so low they stick them in the sand and do somersaults. And toreros who don’t know what to do with them. It can be an unpleasant sight, believe me. The more cowardly a bull is, the more he makes the corrida look like a one-sided affair. The beauty of a good corrida lies in the rapport between man and bull.”

I smiled, enjoying listening to his voice as well as the words he spoke.

“Jaime tells me you just lost your grandmother. I am very sorry. You must feel her loss deeply.”

“Thank you, I do.” I said, feeling my eyes well up at his sympathetic tone.

“And you also just got your degree?” he went on, obviously wishing to change the subject for my sake.

“Yes, in journalism.” I was absurdly pleased that they had been talking about me.

“Well, just promise me you won’t work for the prensa rosa,” Fernando said a trifle bitterly. The so-called “pink press” was the name given to the gossip magazines in Spain.

I regarded him sympathetically.

“It must be hard, not being able to draw breath without all those cameras on you all the time.”

“It can become claustrophobic and inhibiting at times, yes,” he agreed.

Fernando studied my face for a moment. I thought he was going to say something else but in the end he made no comment. Instead he signaled to the barman for two more drinks. Although the bar was packed and Raquel and Jaime were sitting a few feet from us, it seemed like we were alone, cocooned as we were in our conversation.

“I am participating in a bullfight at the Real Maestranza in Seville next weekend,” Fernando said, handing me my drink. “Do you think you would like to come? As my guest?”

I almost choked on the sip of vodka lemon I was just taking, so I took a moment to answer.

“I would really enjoy that,” I finally managed, my smile a little wider than I would have liked.

“Great. That’s settled, then. I will give Jaime tickets for the three of you.”

At this moment, somewhat to my dismay, Javier joined us. He mumbled a “good evening” in my direction and then looked at Francisco.

“Ah, Javier,” Fernando said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’d like you to meet Sofia. Sofia, this is Javier Cruz, my banderillero de confianza, my right hand man. What’s with the grave expression, hombre?”

Javier shrugged and made no allusion to the fact that we had met the day before. Instead, he said:

“A word, maestro?”

To my satisfaction Fernando looked a little irritated.

“Can’t it wait?” he said.

“Not really, maestro,” Javier answered.

Fernando sighed a little and turned to me.

“Excuse me one moment, please.”

“Of course,” I said.

Fernando and Javier headed outside and I lost sight of them.

“How is it going?” Raquel asked me as soon as they were out of earshot.

I smiled and was about to make a funny remark at my own expense when I realized that Jaime was sitting right next to Raquel and was all ears. So instead I said:

“Pretty great. How about you?”

Raquel smile widened and she squeezed Jaime’s hand.

“It’s been a wonderful day and now it’s a fabulous night.”

Jaime laughed.

“That’s the truth. Where’s Fernando?”

“He went to talk with Javier a moment,” I told him.

Jaime’s face clouded over for a second but returned to normal so quickly that I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it.

“Fernando is fighting in Seville next weekend,” he said.

“I know,” I beamed. “He’s invited me.”

“That’s wonderful!” Raquel said, unable to hide her delight. “We can all go together!”

“That’s what he suggested,” I agreed. I glanced towards the door but he was still outside.

“What exactly is a banderillero de confianza, anyway?” I asked Jaime and Raquel, lowering my voice a little. I still felt like such a novice amongst all these professionals and aficionados.

“He’s the head banderillero – usually the one who has been with the matador the longest,” Jaime explained. “Most matadors are very close to their whole cuadrilla and to their apoderado.”

I nodded and asked: “What’s an apoderado?”

“A manager. He organizes all the fights and everything. Fernando’s apoderado is his uncle, Luis.”

Raquel laughed.

“Sofia is getting a crash course in bullfighting,” she said.

Jaime and I joined in her laughter.

“It’s true,” I said. “And here I was, without ever haivng had any interest.”

“What changed?” a low voice beside me said. I turned to see that Fernando had rejoined us. I blushed immediately and Raquel came to my rescue.

“It’s my fault for dating a torero,” she said and batted her eyelashes playfully at Jaime.

We all laughed but I could see that Fernando had come back in a different mood than he had been in before he left. He seemed preoccupied although I could see he was making an effort to hide it.

The next hour or so passed in a pleasant blur of conversation between the four us, with frequent interruptions from friends of both Jaime and Fernando. We dined on tapas again and then people started to drift off in small groups, heading home to bed. It had been a long day for everyone. And even though we Spaniards never like to let the day end, always trying to prolong it as much as possible, the time had come to take leave of this day. I said good night to Raquel and Jaime and Raquel and I gave each other a quick hug.

“Call me tomorrow,” she said in my ear. “When you get up – I can come over and keep you company.”

Fernando was waiting by the door for me and when I wished him good night, he moved his body very close to mine to kiss my cheeks, a hand on each arm. My body filled with warmth from the touch of his hands and I was overcome by a desire just lean my head on his chest and let his arms envelop me.

“Buenas noches,” he said.

I felt dizzy for an instant and it took me a moment to pull myself together. Suddenly Javier’s voice cut through the silence.

“Are you coming, Fernando?” he said from inside the car waiting by the curb.

“Can we give you a lift?” Fernando offered.

“I live very close by,” I answered, not wanting to lose sight of him but also feeling silly to have them drive me such a short distance.

“No matter,” he said. “Let us drive you.”

He opened the door for me and I slid in the back seat. Javier turned and gave me tight smile as Fernando took his place beside him in the passenger seat. I gave them the address and we were there in less than five minutes. Fernando got out and opened the door for me again, and once more I got to enjoy the feel of his hands on my arms, his lips on my cheeks.

“I hope to see you again soon,” he said, his breath hot in my ear.

I made my way to the bedroom on shaky legs, pulled off my clothes and fell naked into bed. I was asleep almost instantly, Fernando’s voice still in my head.

Afghanistan: Mission Impossible?

America has been at war in Afghanistan since shortly after the attacks on the U.S. on September 11, 2001. Our goal was to obliterate al-Qaeda, responsible for the attacks, and the Taliban, who was harboring them. Nine years on, al-Qaeda has scattered and is mostly hiding out in Pakistan, and the Taliban is regrouping in different areas throughout Afghanistan. Casualties of the war have almost doubled during the last two years (icasualties.org, July 30, 2010) and Afghanistan’s government is weak and ineffectual. The method currently being employed by the US Military is known as Counterinsurgency (aka COIN) but there are serious doubts as to its effectiveness. Can we afford to stay with this conflict for several more decades, which is what COIN would seemingly take? At this stage, is this conflict still the United States’ problem or should we get out and let the Afghan people fight their own civil war? Considering the fact that Afghanistan is the world’s fifth poorest country – the poorest outside the African continent – is this even a problem that can be fixed by military force?

On December 1, 2009, President Obama addressed the nation from West Point, New York. He announced his intention of sending 30,000 more troops to Afghanistan and listed the following as his objectives in the war there:

“We must deny al-Qaeda a safe haven. We must reverse the Taliban’s momentum and deny it the ability to overthrow the government. And we must strengthen the capacity of Afghanistan’s security forces and government so that they can take lead responsibility for Afghanistan’s future.”

There can be no doubt that these are laudable and desirable goals. And though it is true that the Taliban’s regime has been overthrown, there are still large (and growing) pockets of Afghanistan where the Taliban is regaining its foothold. In some spots (namely Helmand province and Kandahar) the Taliban never lost its hold. So when disputes arise between villages, farmers or tribes, it is the Taliban who finds swift (and often deadly) resolutions. Therein lies the problem. Although we may want the Afghan government to be stable and secure, this is not something that is just going to happen. But until it does, we will keep losing life after life and we will keep pouring money into this bottomless pit that is the war on Afghanistan. If we don’t fix the economy, there is really not much we can do to make this country more secure. Just look at the unrest our own country is experiencing in the face of economic crisis. And our troubles are peanuts compared to Afghanistan’s. Our military is being asked to do the impossible. How can they singlehandedly rebuild – or more accurately, build from the ground up – an economy that has subsisted for years on opium crops?

It is a sad fact that the United States’ war on Iraq was seriously detrimental to the war on Afghanistan. At one point there were 167,000 troops in Iraq while there were only about 30,000 in Afghanistan. Since Barack Obama took over the presidency he has had several opportunities to reassess U.S. goals and interests in Afghanistan, and in each instance he has chosen to escalate (Richard N. Haass, 2010). But he cannot turn back the clock. These escalations should have taken place years ago. They should have taken place instead of the invasion of Iraq. And now the U.S. is supporting a corrupt and weak government in its fight against the Taliban. While this government remains fragile the people of Afghanistan cannot feel safe. At the same time we are dealing with a serious economic crisis in the U.S. and it is hard to justify spending $100 billion a year for a war that is going nowhere fast. However, if we withdraw without further ado we will almost certainly be guaranteeing a Taliban recapture of most of the country. An idea put forward by Richard Haass, president of the Council of Foreign Relations and former State Department coordinator under President Bush, is one of decentralization, an option that would work with and not against the Afghan tradition of a weak ruling center and strong periphery. In essence it is as follows:

“…the United States would provide arms and training to local Afghan leaders throughout the country who reject al-Qaeda and who do not seek to undermine Pakistan. Economic aid could be provided to increase respect for human rights and to decrease poppy cultivation. There would be less emphasis on building up a national Army and police force.”

This approach would place a lot more power in the hands of the Afghan people itself and would seem like a much more effective way to spend our money, if spend it there we must. The current alternative, of trying to make the Afghan government strong enough to bring security to its own people, just doesn’t seem feasible.

We must remember, however, that not all of the news out of Afghanistan is doom and gloom. In a country that used to have about 2 hours a day of electricity it is a happy fact that most places now have power 24 hours a day. There exists a free press; 10 million mobile phones instead of 80,000 7 years ago; a healthcare system for two-thirds of the population and an education system which instead of 90,000 all male students (under the Taliban) now boasts 6 million, 2 million of whom are girls (U.S. Department of State, 2010). The U.S. and NATO forces are not seen as an occupying force by most Afghans. But largely due to the unpopularity of the Iraq war, the U.S has not had a lot of support or help from the rest of the world. If more countries were involved in the nation-building needed in Afghanistan the chance of success would be a lot higher. And there is no doubt that the Afghans need help. Their obvious quandary, apart from the Taliban, is that the country’s economy depends on an illegal substance. A survey carried out by the U.N. Office on Drugs and Crime reported in September 2009 that opium cultivation had dropped by 22% and production fell by 10%. The number of people involved in opium crops dropped by a third and 20 provinces are opium-free. Some products that the Afghan people have been able to export more successfully in recent years include handcrafts, fresh and dry fruit, minerals, leather products, cotton and precious stones (Robichaud, 2007). Another fact perceived as a success by the administration in Washington is that Afghan troops are taking the lead in joint operations in ever increasing numbers. And the importance of this should not be underestimated. But the success of the counterinsurgency endeavor, which is intended to protect the people first needs to win the support of the people. And therein lays the crux of the matter: we cannot hope to gain support from people by military means. We must maintain our financial support (which, even if it is extremely generous, will still be less than $100 billion a year) as well as our moral support. Ideally Pakistan should play a much larger role in the stabilization of Afghanistan – it is in their own best interests. They would like to play a larger role in their neighboring country, there is no doubt, but for Pakistan to co-operate more fully with the U.S. effort in the region, we may have to take a step back from our close relationship with India. And it is not clear how willing the U.S. would be to do that. So again we encounter a problem that has nothing to do with military might.

In the president’s speech at West Point he brings up the fact that many people are likening the Afghanistan war to the Vietnam War and this is what he says: “I believe this argument depends on a false reading of history. Unlike Vietnam, we are joined by a broad coalition of 43 nations that recognizes the legitimacy of our action. Unlike Vietnam, we are not facing a broad-based popular insurgency. And most importantly, unlike Vietnam, the American people were viciously attacked from Afghanistan, and remain a target for those same extremists who are plotting along its border.” (Obama, 2010). Granted, but we were not attacked by Afghans as such. Afghanistan did not rise up as a nation against us. In fact, the Taliban, who made it possible for al-Qaeda to attack the U.S., was repressing and attacking the Afghan people at the same time. We have achieved what we set out to do: we have overthrown the Taliban regime and pushed al-Qaeda out of Afghanistan. It is perfectly possible that al-Qaeda will regroup in Pakistan and launch another attack on us. I don’t see that any effort we make in Afghanistan that would change that. But what we are left with in Afghanistan is like the war on drugs: it is a war on a concept, and that means it is one that we cannot fight with guns but must fight with diplomacy, tact and a lot of hard work. This is a war that can longer be won in a military sense, so to keep putting our soldiers in harm’s way is a waste of lives and a waste of treasure.

References

Council on Foreign Relations (2010) www.cfr.org

Embassy of the United States, Belgium (2010) www.uspolicy.be

Haass, Richard N. (2010, July 18). We’re Not Winning. It’s Not Worth It. Newsweek

iCasualties (2010, July 30) www.icasualties.org

Jones, Seth G. (2010) In the Graveyard of Empires. W.W. Norton

Robichaud, Carl. (2007, October 24). Afghanistan Watch. www.afghanistanwatch.org

U.S Department of State (2010, May 11) www.state.gov

On "The Obligation to Endure" by Rachel Carson

http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_m1170/is_n2_v26/ai_18246331/

In August of 1945, the United States dropped a nuclear bomb on two towns in Japan: Hiroshima and Nagasaki. When Rachel Carson was writing in the 1950s, these were recent occurrences which is evident when she mentions Strontium 90. It is particularly impressive that she was so much in the time as well as significantly ahead of her time. While most people were excited by the fact that they could now use “insect bombs” to kill off all the pesky little creatures that had been bothering them and their crops, Carson was far-sighted enough to worry about the impact on our ecological system. She makes this case in a powerful way in “The Obligation to Endure”.

Carson commences by pointing out the effect of the environment on our surroundings and how man in recent time has upset the balance of this equilibrium. Take the example of Strontium 90. According to the Environmental Protection Agency (2009) Strontium 90 is “a radioactive tracer in medical and agriculture studies.” They go on to say that it was widely dispersed in the 1950s and 60s in fall-out from atmospheric testing of nuclear weapons, which is what Carson is referring to when she says that the Strontium 90 is “released through nuclear explosions.” At the time that Carson was writing the book Silent Spring (1962), from which this essay is taken, there was widespread concern about the amount of Strontium 90 in cow’s milk, due to its slow fall-out and biological similarity to calcium. But a study by Larson and Ebner (1958) concluded:

“The present knowledge strongly suggests that the current and projected levels of Sr-90 in milk should not cause us concern when compared to radiation received from natural sources; but further studies are necessary to be certain if this is true.”

Carson paints a vivid picture of the difference between the natural occurrence of chemicals on our planet versus the bombardment of chemicals to which we are submitting our ecosystem. She draws our attention to the fact that not only are we not fully cognizant of what we are putting out into the atmosphere, we are also not allowing any time for our animals and plants to adapt to these substances. She writes:

“- 500 new chemicals to which the bodies of men and animals are required somehow to adapt each year, chemicals totally outside the limits of biologic experience. “

She goes on, in a poetically painful manner, to say: “Among them are many that are used in man’s war against nature.”

Man’s war against nature. We have not looked back. When Carson points out that we use “non-selective chemicals” to kill “the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’”, what she is in essence saying is that we are performing chemotherapy on the planet. In the same way that we kill both the good and the bad cells when we are treating someone for cancer.

The most spine-chilling of her observations comes when she mentions how some would like to modify the human germ plasm. She is almost definitely alluding to the social movement Eugenics, popular in the 1920s and 30s, which advocated selective breeding in humans. In itself an immensely terrifying idea, Carson adds her own horrifying twist on it: perhaps we have lost control already, due to gene mutations caused by radiation and chemicals.

However, the saddest part of all is that when we read this piece, it is clear that we have not made any significant headway where pesticides and insecticides are concerned since 1962, when Silent Spring was published. Take the following extract, which could have been written today, while we regard the devastation that is the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico (with a little modification):

“Future historians may well be amazed by our distorted sense of proportion. How could intelligent beings seek to control a few unwanted species by a method that contaminated the entire environment and brought the threat of disease and death even to their own kind?”

Carson speaks with conviction, and as a marine biologist and zoologist, she was well-qualified to write about ecology. Her subject-matter is mostly gleaned from her own research. Fifty years on, we have seen disasters like the one in Chernobyl, but we have also seen the relative safety of nuclear energy. Unfortunately we have not seen a lessening of our assault on the environment. Largely due to Carson’s writings President Kennedy set up an environmental affairs office, known today as the Environmental Protection Agency. It is a laudable agency to have created, but like most government agencies, it lacks power and funding (although the budget for the year 2010 was up 34% from the year before).

Rachel Carson’s concerns remain so relevant in our world today. Climate change and global warming remain debatable points instead of an accepted reality. Thanks to our indiscriminate use of pesticides, insects have become resistant to many of them and some, like the corn earworm, remain a real problem to farmers (Bellinger 1996). According to Brogdon and MacAllister (2010) resistance has developed to every chemical class of insecticide. Writing from the Center for Disease Control and Prevention, they tell us: “Insecticide resistance is expected to directly and profoundly affect the reemergence of vector-borne disease…”

Carson was extremely prescient, vocally and eloquently so. But because her observations were to do with caring for an environment that nobody was worried about at the time and because her predictions sounded to many like a sure way of losing money, her words fell mostly on deaf ears.

Works Cited

1. Bellinger, Robert G. Department of Entomology, Clemson University. March 1996

http://ipm.ncsu.edu/safety/factsheets/resistan.pdf

2..Brogdon, William G. and McAllister, Janet C. : “Insecticide Resistance and Vector

Control” Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, Atlanta, Georgia, USA

Feb. 23 2010 http://www.cdc.gov/ncidod/eid/vol4no4/brogdon.htm

3. Environmental Protection Agency www.epa.gov

4. Larson, B.L. and Ebner, K.E. “Significance of Strontium-90 in Milk: A Review”

Journal of Dairy Science Vol. 41 No. 12 1647-1662
1958 by American Dairy Science Association ®

An analysis of Rosin's The Case against Breast-feeding

The Case against Breast-Feeding

By

Hanna Rosin

The Atlantic monthly, April 2009

I recently heard Hanna Rosin on NPR talking about her latest article, in the July/August 2010 issue of The Atlantic. It is titled “The End of Men” and from hearing her speak it is obvious that she is opinionated and likes to provoke. Having said that, I actually enjoyed listening to her and found her smart and amusing. However, in this article, The Case against Breast-Feeding, she sounds mostly angry and it seems as if she is trying to alleviate her guilt. She attempts to claim that breast-feeding is not necessary, and yet she doesn’t even seem to convince herself. The data she uses is very one-sided and she fails to mention the important statement made by the American Academy of Pediatrics in Pediatrics No. 115 Vol.2 February 2005 in which the benefits of breast-feeding, for both mother and child, are summarized. This statement also affirms that “considerable advances have occurred in recent years in the scientific knowledge of the benefits of breast-feeding.” (Pediatrics 2005)

I therefore feel strongly that Rosin’s sources are not up-to-date, and because she is offering a science-based argument she should have used more recent data. Instead she quotes an issue of Pediatrics from 1984 and then informs us that “Twenty-five years later, the picture hasn’t changed all that much.”

It is clear from the article that Rosin’s real issue lies with the fact that men cannot breast-feed. She graphically makes her point in the following sentence: “It was not the vacuum that was keeping me and my 21^st-century sisters down, but another sucking sound.” This is her opinion and not an effective argument. I am not saying that it is not hard for women to triumph in the work-place when they are also responsible for breast-feeding, but she might as well argue that being pregnant and giving birth are inconvenient and that women shouldn’t have to do it if men can’t. There is no getting away from the fact that men and women are different. We should celebrate that fact.

The article is well-organized and well-written but the ending is weak. The last paragraph starts: “My best guess is something I can’t quite articulate.” Her best guess? Which she can’t articulate? She is trying to present a scientific argument so guesswork doesn’t come into it, and the whole point of writing is to articulate. So her conclusion is sorely lacking. After all her arguments against breast-feeding, she also, in the last paragraph, admits to still nursing her baby and says: “I also know that this is probably my last chance to feel warm baby skin up against mine, and one day I will miss it.” Enough said.

The article is logically argued some of the time, but at other times Rosin’s arguments fall short and are too filled with her own baggage. She makes a good point in saying that breast-feeding has become an upper middle class ideal, which in itself is interesting, considering that it used to be something only the poor did. In fact centuries ago rich mothers would have wet-nurses instead of formula to do the “dirty deed” of feeding their own children. When Rosin mentions some pro-breast-feeding commercials aired by the Department of Health and Human Services in 2004, she says they are “dripping with sexual innuendo” and I find it hard to believe that this was the DHHS’ intention. I think it much more likely that Rosin herself projects the sexual innuendo onto them. Breasts have become completely sexualized in our society, which is a huge part of the problem that people have with breast-feeding today. We have such a fear of sex that we believe that one body part cannot possibly serve for sexual pleasure and for the good of our children. Without going into too much detail, it might help us to remember that other sexual organs are involved in both sexual intercourse and children (in particular, giving birth). So far I have not heard any objections to this.

In her article Rosin makes it plain that the biggest challenge lies with working mothers. She obviously finds it grossly unfair that working mothers should suffer because they have to breast-feed. And it is unfair. While women are taking care of the children, men get promotions. But this is not a problem with breast-feeding; it is a problem of how we as a society decide to deal with motherhood. Mothers and fathers offer different roles in their children’s up-bringing, and both should be supported, but to a large extent are not. And that is the fundamental dilemma that Rosin is grappling with.

The article did not change my mind about my strong belief that breast-feeding is very beneficial to both mother and child, and if a mother has enough support from her family as well as society, she will find it a rewarding, enriching experience. Undoubtedly it is better for the baby too – our bodies were made for this.

Tel Aviv boardwalk

What the Freedom Flotilla Incident Can Teach Us

On May 31, 2010, Israel drew worldwide condemnation when an Israel Navy commando unit boarded the Mavi Marmara, the largest ship of the humanitarian aid-carrying Freedom Flotilla. Immediately Israel was accused of using disproportionate force, of being a bully and of having caused at the very least a PR disaster for itself. But the truth of it is that although nine deaths were surely not part of the plan, Israel did fall completely into the trap that was set for it.

Since the election of Recep Tayyip Erdogan and his Justice and Development Party (AKP) party in Turkey, the latter has been moving towards a more pro-Islamist stance. Although Israel and Turkey have enjoyed a long relationship of good standing, Turkey has had a lot of sympathy for Hamas and the plight of the people of Gaza. The first taste we got of the trouble that was to come was at the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, in January 2009 when Prime Minster Erdogan stormed off stage after having told Israeli president Shimon Peres: “When it comes to killing you know well how to kill” (Arsu). He was referring to Israel’s offensive in Gaza, of which he strongly disapproved.

The offensive in question, Operation Cast Lead, was the direct result of Hamas’ firing rockets into Israel for three years following the latter’s unilateral withdrawal from the Gaza Strip. In the summer of 2005 Israel withdrew from Gaza both militarily and, in their entirety, its settlements. The settlers did not go without a fight, and it took a lot of political courage on Ariel Sharon’s part to implement. It was very unpleasant for secular Israelis to watch the settlers fighting the IDF soldiers who were evacuating them. Israel offered to leave their homes standing so that the Palestinians would be able to occupy them, but they were turned down, as the Israelis’ single-family buildings did not suit the Palestinians’ custom of living with their extended families. So the houses were razed but the settlers’ greenhouses were left standing as an economic asset which Israel wanted to pass on to the Palestinians. It was in Israel’s best interests for the Palestinians in the Gaza Strip to be successful within their own society. So it is a real shame for both sides that with their new-found freedom and copious foreign aid they did not concentrate their energies on building up their economy and infrastructure. Instead they vandalized the greenhouses and spent their time and money building weapons and rockets to fire into Israel (Muravchik).

One reason for they may have had for electing Hamas, and for spending so much energy on weaponry rather state-building, could be that the elections were more or less forced onto the Palestinians after the death of Yasser Arafat in November of 2004. President Bush, as part of his misguided push for democracy, played a large role in bringing about these elections. In hindsight it is clear that it might have been better to give the people a little more time. Hamas won the Palestinian legislative elections in January 2006 and immediately made it clear they would not honor any agreements that had been reached with Israel by the Palestinian National Authority (PNA), the entity set up during the Oslo accords, responsible for Palestinian civilian and security issues, with Fatah and the Palestine Liberation Organization’s (PLO) Yassir Arafat as its first president.

In June 2007 Hamas overthrew Fatah who had still been in control of the Palestinian security forces in the Gaza Strip, sending Mahmoud Abbas into “exile” in the West Bank. Several members of the secular Fatah party were brutally murdered to achieve this end, some being thrown from the rooftops with their hands tied. Fatah’s alienation from Hamas, at least, gave Fatah and Israel some common ground.

Another major factor in the Gaza blockade is that Hamas has been holding an Israeli soldier in captivity since June 25, 2006. Gilad Shalit, 19 at the time, was kidnapped at the Kerem Shalom crossing into the Gaza Strip. Since then Hamas has not allowed access by the International Red Cross and no attempts at negotiations have led to any success. Hamas is asking for the release of more than 1,000 Palestinian prisoners in Israeli jails in return for his release (NYT).

Then in 2008 alone Hamas fired 1,750 Qassam rockets and 1,528 mortar bombs on Israel, a culmination of such attacks over the last three years (MFA). These rocket attacks, although causing few fatalities, did cause a lot of injuries and shock-related hospitalizations. Parents feared for their children’s lives when they sent them off to school in the morning and some schools even had to close because they were under such heavy attack. In an attempt to put a stop to this, Israel launched Operation Cast Lead on December 27, 2008. Apart from the name of the operation not being exactly inspired, Israel came under heavy criticism from the international community for killing too many civilians. We have to remember, however, how tiny and densely populated the Gaza Strip is (40km long by 10km wide with a population of 1.5 million) and how much Hamas wanted civilian deaths to further their cause. According to the Jewish Virtual Library website (JVL):

The IAF (Israeli Air Force) has taken extreme measures to avoid civilian casualties and have gone so far as to call apartment complexes that are known to house Hamas forces and warn the civilian residents of coming airstrikes. 90,000 Palestinian homes in Gaza received phone-calls in warning of an airstrike. After receiving phone-calls, resident dissidents often climb to the roof in an effort to dissuade the IAF from firing. The IAF then fires a very small, harmless rocket to just graze the apartment building so as to scare the civilian dissident away. Only then, when it is believed that the complex is empty of civilians, does the Air Force strike the building.”

Even before Operation Cast Lead began, Israel has been supplying the Gaza Strip with humanitarian aid to counter the effect of the blockade imposed on Gaza by Israel and Egypt following Hamas’ overthrow of Fatah. On November 2, 2009 the Israel Navy intercepted a ship 100 miles off the coast of Israel which was carrying 500 tons of weapons disguised as civilian cargo (MFA). However, the fact that Israel inspects all ships bound for Gaza has not affected the amount of aid reaching the Palestinians. Here is a small sample of goods delivered to Gaza during the year 2009 (IDF):

Cooking Oil 910 truckloads 21,821 tons

Produce 3,183 truckloads 65,048.8 tons

Milk powder 340 truckloads 5,793.2 tons

Medicine 569 truckloads 4,883 tons

Granted, the IDF has been in complete control of what enters the Gaza Strip, and some of the banned items that make the list (coriander, jam) are pretty mind-boggling. Even pasta was prohibited until Senator John Kerry expressed his surprise about this fact when visiting Gaza in February of 2009 (Hass). Another big stumbling block has been building supplies. Israel does not want Hamas to have any access to building supplies and yet the people living in the Gaza Strip need to rebuild the homes razed during Operation Cast Lead. So far only small amounts of cement, mortar and such have been allowed into the Strip and most homes remain unbuilt.

Operation Cast Lead ended on January 18, 2009, when Israel declared a unilateral ceasefire, brokered by Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak, halting all operations in Gaza. On that very same day Hamas fired rockets into Israel once more but followed swiftly with a week-long ceasefire of their own which they broke a day later by firing mortar shells and guns at IDF troops. In response Israel destroyed a Qassam rocket launcher (YA). Hamas declared victory, claiming that only 48 of their fighters were amongst the 1,300 dead. According to research conducted by B’Tselem, the Israeli Human Rights lobby, it was more like 623 (BT). Despite the unilateral ceasefire, Iran vowed to continue to arm Hamas in their fight against Israel.

The Gaza blockade was implemented by Israel and Egypt in June 2007 directly after Hamas took control of the Gaza Strip. The reason for the blockade was and is threefold: to force the Palestinians to oppose Hamas, to stop Hamas from obtaining weapons and to put pressure on Hamas to release Sergeant Gilad Shalit. So far, it does not look like any of these goals are being met. Hamas has not been weakened, the Palestinians of Gaza are held prisoners in the Strip and Sergeant Shalit will be entering his fifth year of captivity on June 25. Israeli officials, however, point to the difference between life for Palestinians in the West Bank compared to the Gaza Strip as proof that the blockade is, in fact, serving its intended purpose. And there is no doubt that life in the West Bank is the polar opposite of life in the Gaza Strip.

As Thomas L. Friedman of the New York Times illustrates:

The Israeli Army has become impressed enough by the performance of the new Palestinian National Security Force, or N.S.F., under Abbas and Fayyad that those forces are now largely responsible for law and order in all the major West Bank towns, triggering an explosion of Palestinian building, investment and commerce in those areas.

During the last few years Israel has seen a decided shift in its political landscape, from a dovish, left-wing government to a hawkish right-wing one. There can be no doubt that the reasons for this shift are the failed Oslo accords as well as the failed peace process. When Ehud Barak and Yassir Arafat were unable to reach an agreement at Camp David in July 2000 it is clear that despair started to set in amongst the Israeli population. After Yitzhak Rabin’s assassination in November 1995 there was a determination not to let the peace process die, but it seems that it was never in Arafat’s interest to reach an agreement. By all accounts the Camp David offer was the most generous ever presented to the Palestinians and yet Arafat declined. Ninety-four to ninety-six percent of the West Bank and a 1 to 3 percent land swap was the deal (Ross). But once a two-state solution would have been reached, Arafat would have become irrelevant as the icon he had grown accustomed to being. With his death a lot of Israelis were hopeful that a new beginning was ripe for the taking, and when they withdrew from Gaza, this feeling was heightened. Then Hamas was elected in the Gaza Strip. In the Israeli elections of February 2009 Kadima, the party created by Ariel Sharon and led by Tzipi Livni, won 28 seats to Binyamin Netanyahu’s Likud’s 27. In the event Livni was unable to form a coalition government. But Netanyahu did, together with, amongst others, the decidedly racist, anti-Arab parties Shas and Yisrael Beitenu. With Binyamin Netanyahu as prime minister, former prime minister Ehud Barak (Labour) as defense minister and the ultra-nationalist Avigdor Lieberman of Yisrael Beitenu (who himself lives in a settlement in the West Bank) as foreign minister, Israel is being steered clearly rightwards.

And this brings us to the early morning of May 31, 2010. The approaching six-ship Freedom flotilla had already advised that it was planning to break the blockade, and the Israel Navy had contacted it repeatedly to redirect it to the Israeli port of Ashdod. Elite troops from a naval commando unit, Shayetet 13, lowered themselves onto the Mavi Marmara with the intent of taking the boat to Ashdod themselves. They did not expect to meet resistance, and it is still a mystery as to why they didn’t expect it. Instead of landing on a deck full of peace activists they found themselves amidst a hostile crowd who attacked them as soon as they dropped on board. Several activists attacked the troops with knives and metal bars; two soldiers were thrown onto the deck below and two had their firearms taken from them. One of the commandos was struck on the head and trampled and this is when the IDF field commander decided not to take any chances and gave the order to open fire (Harel, Issacharoff, Pfeffer).

The defying mob, however, was not the trap that had been set for them. Instead it was the certainty of those aboard the Mavi Marmara that Israel would react exactly the way that it did. Turkey, therefore, got exactly what it was looking for in the wake of its exclusion from the EU: an excuse to break off its alliance to Israel and the West and a reason to create new coalitions with its Arab neighbors. What is truly unfortunate about the whole incident, but not entirely surprising at such close quarters, is that nine of the ship’s passengers died in the ensuing gunfire. The biggest blunder of this operation seems to be that of having sent soldiers on board the Mavi Marmara, placing them in an exceptionally difficult situation right from the start. But what would have been a good alternative plan? More troops? The police instead of soldiers? Shayetet 13 is not a unit specializing in mobs.

It is important to note that the five remaining ships of the Freedom flotilla were boarded peacefully by the Israel Navy, meeting with no resistance whatsoever. Regarding the incident on the remaining ferry, one officer was quoted as saying: “We were arrogant and complacent. We didn’t anticipate the scale of the resistance and didn’t conduct ourselves accordingly.” (Harel). The result, therefore, was that the commandos were not prepared to confront such a large and violent crowd as the one they encountered. The bottom line is that as an operation it failed miserably, whatever the reasons may turn out to be. The damage to Israel’s public image is done, not matter what may come out in subsequent investigations. Most people will have stopped paying attention by that time.

The blockade is a no-win situation for Israel: if they stop boats they are considered a villain and if they let boats through, they‘re potentially arming Hamas. However, the blockade is not sustainable at this point. Hamas’ control of the Gaza Strip has only strengthened, Gilad Shalit is no closer to being released and Israel is internationally more isolated than ever. What’s worse, as was illustrated in the incident on May 31, the blockade is drawing challenges from pro-Hamas militants on top of the well-meaning humanitarian groups.

Since the events on May 31 which took place 70 miles off the shore of Israel, several facts have become clear. One is that Turkey, who is looking to become more of an Arab power in the region, was perfectly willing to alienate Israel. This is evident from the fact that although the Gaza blockade has been a joint Israel/Egypt venture, Turkey has only had criticism for Israel, and none for Egypt. It is also clear from Erdogan’s rhetoric that it holds Israel solely responsible for the Gaza Strip’s situation, siding completely with Hamas, a militant group whose creed is the elimination of the State of Israel. But as one prominent Israeli writer, Amos Oz, put it:

But Hamas is not just a terrorist organization. Hamas is an idea, a desperate and fanatical idea that grew out of the desolation and frustration of many Palestinians…To defeat an idea , you have to offer a better idea, a more attractive and acceptable one.

Maybe Oz is giving Hamas too much credit, but he does make a good point in that Hamas needs to be dealt with. They are not going to go away because Israel wishes they would. They are not going to go away because Israel keeps oppressing them. So this is where Israel needs to change its approach before it is too late. Only a liberal democratic society is sustainable – anything else is an impractical and miserable adventure. So either Israelis wake up to this fact and start to vote accordingly, or the country is going to head more and more towards the path of segregation and racism.

The international community should play a much more active role in helping both sides. The rhetoric of the “road map to peace” and “the peace process” has grown old and stale, and we need to change our approach completely. Hamas must be engaged somehow and Gilad Shalit needs to be freed now. In a blog on The Daily Beast, Peter Beinart spoke about a proposal put forward by Israel journalist Eitan Haber. The next time a ship comes determined to break the blockade, Israel should let it through on one condition: the supplies should go not only to the people of Gaza but also to Sergeant Shalit. The activists should demand his release. That way it would also be clear to Israel that the humanitarian aid extends to their side, too. Beinart puts it thus:

The irony isn’t hard to grasp. Shalit’s fate, in a macabre way, echoes the fate of the people of Gaza. He is imprisoned; they are imprisoned.

We must not waste any more time. We must seize the moment and lift the blockade. But international troops must be put into place to patrol the Gaza/Israel border until Hamas is willing to talk to Israel and recognize its right to exist. For all of Israel’s recent dangerous and short-sighted right wing policies, they do have a right to defend themselves from a terrorist organization hell-bent on bringing about their demise. Let’s not forget that whereas Jews in America and the rest of the world send Israel money to plant trees, the only kinds of funds that Palestinians receive are ones to build more weapons.

Works Cited

Arsu, Sebnem. “Leaders of Turkey and Israel Clash at Davos Panel.” New York Times. 30 Jan, 2009.

Beinart, Peter. “How to Free Gaza”. www.thedailybeast.com 4 June 2010

B’Tselem. www.btselem.org BT.

Friedman, Thomas L. “The Ballgame and the Sideshow” New York Times. 4 June 2010

Harel, Amos; Issacharoff, Avi and Pfeffer, Anshel. :Israel Navy commandos: Gaza flotilla activists tried to lynch us.” Ha’aretz. www.haaretz.com 31 May 2010

Harel, Amos. “Straight into the Trap” Ha’aretz www.haaretz.com 6 June 2010

Hass, Amira.”Israel bans books, music and clothes from entering Gaza.” Ha’aretz 17 May 2009

Israel Ministry of Defense www.idf.gov.il

Israel Ministry of Foreign Affairs. MFA. www.mfa.gov.il

Jewish Virtual Library. www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org JVL. updated 2 Feb. 2009

Muravchik, Joshua. “Goldstone: Ax Exegesis” World Affairs May/June2010

New York Times Archive: Gilad Shalit. NYT www.nytimes.com 23 Nov. 2008

Oz, Amos. “Israeli Force, Adrift on the Sea.” www.haaretz.com 1 June 2010

Ross, Dennis. “The Missing Piece.” Page 802. Publisher Farrar, Straus Giroux, copyright 2004

Sofer, Roni. “Israel ‘green-lights’ Cease-fire.” Yediot Ahronot YA. 15 Jan. 2009

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