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David Horovitz: When Nowhere Is Safe
I wasn�t a complete newcomer; I�d vacationed in Israel many times. But the transition from tourist to immigrant was made particularly smooth by the Hebrew U. experience -- an introduction to Israel cushioned by the fact that dozens of student-immigrants, plenty of them English-speakers with similar backgrounds, interests and concerns, were taking the same first tentative steps as citizens in the dorm rooms all around me.
Among the most unfamiliar experiences was the simple fact of living and studying with Arabs. Initially, I was struck by the phenomenal English of the young Arab man and the two Arab women in a literature class I was taking; the markedly different smells that would emanate from the kitchen on the floor above mine when Arab students were cooking; even the unusual plastic flip-flops those students padded about in. Initially. Pretty soon I paid no heed to any of that anymore. I can�t say I made firm friendships with Arab students from those days, but I was certainly on casual "How are you doing?" terms with them. Young students, feeling their way, just like I was.
The intermingling of Israeli Jewish, Arab and overseas students had begun years earlier, and has continued ever since -- remarkable in its very banality. Especially remarkable given the conflict of the past 22 months. Jews and Arabs live together, study together, eat together in the caf�s. Like the Frank Sinatra cafeteria in the heart of the campus.
Any bomber who knew the campus well enough to gauge that Frank Sinatra would be pulling in a lunchtime crowd at the height of the summer must also have been aware of whom he would be mutilating there: Jews. Christians. Muslims. If all those who strive to kill and maim the innocent have forsaken their humanity, what words are left with which to revile murderers whose indifference extends to the suffering of their own kin? I have none anymore. All I can think of are the dozens of times I ate my chicken schnitzel with my wife-to-be and other lifelong friends in Frank Sinatra, and compare that idyllic past with the reality of Wednesday afternoon, July 31 -- every window smashed, gashes in the plaster of the wall, the ceiling collapsed, an air-conditioning vent hanging drunkenly down, the floor still damp where the blood had pooled and the knowledge that seven more innocents were dead, and that many more were fighting not to join them, youngsters with nails in their necks and shrapnel in their hearts.
Ridiculously, I�ve found myself wondering whether it is somehow "better" or "worse" that the murderer did not die in his attack, unlike the dozens of suicide-bombers. It�s not a question that bears answering. The fact that it arises just underlines the dissonance between the norms we�ve grown up equipped to deal with, and the horrors to which we are now subjected. Now we must acknowledge that nowhere, absolutely nowhere -- and one hesitates to specify what that really means -- is off-limits to the killers.
Even the solace that our own humanity has hitherto afforded us has, sadly, been dented a little this time. I have few qualms about the Israeli army killing a mass murderer who was planning more hideous carnage and who could not safely be arrested. But I do expect better from my prime minister than an initial assertion that the bombing raid that killed Salah Shehadeh in Gaza City early on July 23 was "one of our major successes." It was not. Ariel Sharon knows that it was not. Indeed, he has since said publicly that he called back the F-16s on previous occasions precisely because he feared civilian deaths, and would have aborted again if he�d anticipated the consequences this time. So why suggest an insensitivity to killing children that, he subsequently assured us, does not characterize his government�s policy or, thank God, his electorate�s overwhelming mindset?
More importantly, since our taxes are helping fund the largest cabinet in the country�s history, we have the right to expect that those ministers be consulted before an operation of this nature goes ahead. It is reasonable to suppose that a Dan Meridor, say, might have asked some life-savingly pertinent questions of the military planners as they outlined the likely fallout from a 1-ton bomb dropped in a crowded residential district. It is manifestly insufficient for approval to be required solely from the prime minister and his defense minister -- two ex-generals evidently in thrall to what the army is now telling us were erroneously complacent assessments. Wars bring collateral damage. Sometimes it may be deemed unavoidable. But where good counsel can minimize such damage, good counsel should be sought.
I have kept my Hebrew University connection down the years. I�ve met students at the Hillel, lectured occasionally to those on the overseas program. I was delighted to be involved a few months ago in the university�s first alumni reunion. A hoped-for mass gathering of ex-students from abroad proved untenable, because of security concerns, but we all decided the event should go ahead anyway, however few or many felt able to attend -- and, in the event, it attracted a healthy and inspiring crowd. A postcard from the university urging us to "hold the date" for the second Alumni Homecoming & Solidarity Mission was sitting in my mailbox when I came home from the Frank Sinatra bomb site.
That night on the news, I watched students from Israel, England, America, Japan, Korea, France and Russia tell the TV crews that they wouldn�t capitulate to the terrorists by giving up on Hebrew U. or, in the case of the foreigners, on Israel. "Yes, I still have a Russian passport," said one girl, then added slowly and earnestly, worried that the interviewer wouldn�t quite understand what she was saying, "but this is my home."
"That I got blown up in a bomb," answered one of the injured Americans, to the inevitable question about what he�d told his mother. "and that Israel�s great. And the bars are open late."
I don�t know if I would have been so brave 20 years ago. But those students, those idealistic, determined students, are a much-needed inspiration, as is the pluralistic university they attend.
August 26, 2002
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