When I decided to come to Israel, it was my dream to study the pioneering seafaring nations that made their homes around these coastlines. When I look across the bay to Akko and then further on to Lebanon, I imagine ancient traders sailing these waters, exchanging culture and goods. This week I saw history being made.
It’s very hard for me to articulate how I feel about everything that’s going on in the Middle East, which is honestly kind of weird since I’m usually pretty aware of my emotions and opinions. I’m not even sure how fair it is for me to weigh in on any of this. I’m here only three months, Israelis live every day in a situation so complicated it’s mind-boggling.
Most people, when they hear the word “Israelis,” immediately think Jews. This is simply not true. There are so many different ethnic groups here (Druze, Bahai, Arab Christians, secular Jews, Muslims) who proudly identify themselves as Israeli. I can’t and won’t speak for them except to say it is important not to get bogged down in a quagmire of labels and divisions.
I can, however, speak for myself and here’s what I learned this week. I love seeing the Israeli flag and the ardent pride Israelis have. Maybe it’s the West Coast liberal Jewish indoctrination I received growing up. But I think it’s more than that, more of an emotional attachment. It’s incredible to see the pride and chutzpah Israelis have. I know people who were not called up to go to Gaza, yet went anyway. I know people who were literally dejected that they were not called up. This makes me feel conflicted. If I feel an attachment to Israel, how do I do my part? Staying here, studying and supporting Israel is a small step in the right direction.
Everyone agrees they are sick of conflict. No one wants to fight for Israel; rather they wish to defend her (the distinction is often blurred and fragmented beyond comprehension). I also think that every Israeli would agree (perhaps this is the only thing you could get every Israeli to agree on!) that no one can agree on everything. I witnessed political debate between Jewish Israelis far more fierce than the discourse between Arabs and Israelis. My religious Jewish friend’s Arab roommate is arguably more politically conservative than he is.
I learned it’s easy to label people left, right, middle, center, conservative, liberal, Jewish, Muslim. This is the easy way out. It’s far harder to actually talk to someone, to ask them how they feel, to listen to their individual hopes and fears, and to share solutions. This is the more challenging task, but the path never taken.
I have never been so close to war. Life goes on in Haifa yet, just a few hours away, war rages. How does this affect me and my friends? I’m not sure yet. I’m convinced of the necessity of a Jewish state. I have always felt that way. Will it ever be possible that an Arab is elected Prime Minister of Israel? One of my friends asked me this and I have no idea. All I know is that hate, particularly unflinching and unknowing hate, is the greatest threat to humanity. If you think we in America are shaded from this, think again.
Finally, a ceasefire was announced. I am thankful (it is Thanksgiving time after all) but more aware than ever of those who don’t have much to be thankful for. It may sound cliché and naive but I really wish the world was a better place for everybody. The Cape Gelidonya, shipwreck that I researched this week, was found with evidence of Mycenaean, Aegean, Cypriot, Syrio-Canaanite, and even Egyptian culture. Yes, we all have some very bad history, but we also have a very long history of living, loving and sharing together. I don’t understand why we insist on conflict and violence when so much could bring us together. I just hope everybody, including those in Gaza, could have a little something to be thankful for.
Jacob Vandor, a 2009 graduate of Malibu High School, is studying maritime archaeology at the University of Haifa in Israel.