I fully admit this video is entirely about bragging rights. Feeling pretty proud of this country I'm in :)
Showing posts with label Politics. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Politics. Show all posts
Friday, May 20, 2011
Israel- Defying the Odds
I fully admit this video is entirely about bragging rights. Feeling pretty proud of this country I'm in :)
Monday, May 2, 2011
Always remember, never forget
At precisely 10:00 am, Israel stood still. For a full minute, a siren droned on a single, melancholy pitch, piercing the minds and hearts of the citizens who stood at attention throughout the land. Work stopped, traffic ceased, and for two minutes complete stoicism descended upon the country.
Today is Yom Hazikaron leShoah v'leG'vura, Holocaust and Heroism Remembrance Day, commonly known as Yom HaShoah among American Jews. It is precisely what its name suggests - a day dedicated to the memory of Holocaust victims, the lives of Holocaust survivors, and the heroes that make such a day possible.
Last night there were Holocaust Memorial ceremonies held in every kibbutz, moshav, town, and city throughout Israel. At our own in Kibbutz Naan, the dining hall was set up with rows upon rows of chairs facing a stage and a screen. Upon entering, you first heard a recording of names being read, slowly and methodically - family members of kibbutznikim who were killed in the Holocaust. The program began with a young girl playing an accompanied piece on clarinet. It was not introduced, was given no title, and when the girl finished nobody applauded. This was not a performance, this was a ceremony. She sought no recognition for her talent for she was merely using it fill the room with an atmosphere befitting memory and respect.
A Yizkor, remembrance, passage was read. Other kibbutznikim read stories, excerpts, and anything else that could best honor the dead and surviving. Sad songs in minor keys were sung, and we watched a short documentary. At the end, we sang Shir Hapartizanim Hayihudim, Song of the Jewish Partisans, and the ceremony came to a close. The audience was entirely silent throughout the presentations - no clapping, no commenting, no whispering. Even children recognized the solemnity of this memorial.
Today work resumed as usual but even there the atmosphere was somewhat lugubrious, heavy. The Galgalatz radio station played but without any of the American pop music that makes the station so beloved. Instead we heard Israeli songs, Jewish songs, songs of heritage and hope, of memory and faith and pride.
And at 10:00, the music stopped and the sirens began, all of us together standing guard over our collective memory.
(At right: Video footage of the Tel Aviv Highway during the sirens on Yom HaShoah, 2008.)
But today is not just Yom HaShoah, for today we added yet another thought in our contemplation: the death of Osama Bin Laden.
When I arrived at work this morning one of the men came to me and said "Did you hear the news? Bin Laden was killed."
I thought certainly this was some incomprehensible joke.
My doubt was dismissed when I saw the BBC article on his computer - indeed, Bin Laden is dead. I didn't know how to feel. For 10 years we have been chasing this man. Ten years. From the time I was in 7th grade when I sat in Orchestra rehearsal and heard something about a tower collapsing and was unable to grasp the severity or gravity of the situation, this man's name has lurked somewhere in our minds. After so long, he almost seemed like some evil character in a comic book, about as real as a two-dimensional costumed villain with a maniacal grin and a thought bubble. But there is nothing fake about a BBC article on a computer screen boldly portraying the title "Osama Bin Laden is Dead."
With his death, the wound of 9/11 is re-examined and as I listened to President Obama's speech I cried at the memory of the single most catastrophic event ever caused by a human being in the United States. Memories I didn't know I had surfaced, and just as I wept for Holocaust victims I never knew, so, too, did I weep for the more modern victims of baseless hatred. How fitting, then, that the two events should coincide.
In Judaism, we are told to "Never forget." This is not just an admonition to remember the Holocaust; no, it is much more than that. Never forget the Holocuast; never forget the pogroms; never forget the expulsions; never forget the Inquisition; never forget the destruction; never forget the hate. Because if we are ever to forget, it will happen again.
Now, 56 years following the end of World War II, we can proudly proclaim that the world has been rid of yet another evil human being, but let us not be so naive as to believe that someone's death marks the end of hateful rhetoric. Hitler's defeat did not mark the end of anti-Semitism, and Bin Laden's death does not mean Islamic extremists will suddenly abandon their guns and bombs. So as Jews vow to never forget the wrongs that were done to us, I feel that all of us as global citizens should vow to never forget the atrocities of terrorism in the past decade. But more challenging than the task of never forgetting is the task of forgiving. Never forgetting does not mean harboring hatred, for if those memories cause us to viciously hate those who are innocent we become no better than our enemies. Instead, we must keep the memory in our minds while we open our hearts to compassion for those who suffer the same injustices we have suffered.
Never again. Never forget. Always remember. Always live.
Today is Yom Hazikaron leShoah v'leG'vura, Holocaust and Heroism Remembrance Day, commonly known as Yom HaShoah among American Jews. It is precisely what its name suggests - a day dedicated to the memory of Holocaust victims, the lives of Holocaust survivors, and the heroes that make such a day possible.
Last night there were Holocaust Memorial ceremonies held in every kibbutz, moshav, town, and city throughout Israel. At our own in Kibbutz Naan, the dining hall was set up with rows upon rows of chairs facing a stage and a screen. Upon entering, you first heard a recording of names being read, slowly and methodically - family members of kibbutznikim who were killed in the Holocaust. The program began with a young girl playing an accompanied piece on clarinet. It was not introduced, was given no title, and when the girl finished nobody applauded. This was not a performance, this was a ceremony. She sought no recognition for her talent for she was merely using it fill the room with an atmosphere befitting memory and respect.
A Yizkor, remembrance, passage was read. Other kibbutznikim read stories, excerpts, and anything else that could best honor the dead and surviving. Sad songs in minor keys were sung, and we watched a short documentary. At the end, we sang Shir Hapartizanim Hayihudim, Song of the Jewish Partisans, and the ceremony came to a close. The audience was entirely silent throughout the presentations - no clapping, no commenting, no whispering. Even children recognized the solemnity of this memorial.
Today work resumed as usual but even there the atmosphere was somewhat lugubrious, heavy. The Galgalatz radio station played but without any of the American pop music that makes the station so beloved. Instead we heard Israeli songs, Jewish songs, songs of heritage and hope, of memory and faith and pride.
And at 10:00, the music stopped and the sirens began, all of us together standing guard over our collective memory.
(At right: Video footage of the Tel Aviv Highway during the sirens on Yom HaShoah, 2008.)
But today is not just Yom HaShoah, for today we added yet another thought in our contemplation: the death of Osama Bin Laden.
When I arrived at work this morning one of the men came to me and said "Did you hear the news? Bin Laden was killed."
I thought certainly this was some incomprehensible joke.
My doubt was dismissed when I saw the BBC article on his computer - indeed, Bin Laden is dead. I didn't know how to feel. For 10 years we have been chasing this man. Ten years. From the time I was in 7th grade when I sat in Orchestra rehearsal and heard something about a tower collapsing and was unable to grasp the severity or gravity of the situation, this man's name has lurked somewhere in our minds. After so long, he almost seemed like some evil character in a comic book, about as real as a two-dimensional costumed villain with a maniacal grin and a thought bubble. But there is nothing fake about a BBC article on a computer screen boldly portraying the title "Osama Bin Laden is Dead."
With his death, the wound of 9/11 is re-examined and as I listened to President Obama's speech I cried at the memory of the single most catastrophic event ever caused by a human being in the United States. Memories I didn't know I had surfaced, and just as I wept for Holocaust victims I never knew, so, too, did I weep for the more modern victims of baseless hatred. How fitting, then, that the two events should coincide.
In Judaism, we are told to "Never forget." This is not just an admonition to remember the Holocaust; no, it is much more than that. Never forget the Holocuast; never forget the pogroms; never forget the expulsions; never forget the Inquisition; never forget the destruction; never forget the hate. Because if we are ever to forget, it will happen again.
Now, 56 years following the end of World War II, we can proudly proclaim that the world has been rid of yet another evil human being, but let us not be so naive as to believe that someone's death marks the end of hateful rhetoric. Hitler's defeat did not mark the end of anti-Semitism, and Bin Laden's death does not mean Islamic extremists will suddenly abandon their guns and bombs. So as Jews vow to never forget the wrongs that were done to us, I feel that all of us as global citizens should vow to never forget the atrocities of terrorism in the past decade. But more challenging than the task of never forgetting is the task of forgiving. Never forgetting does not mean harboring hatred, for if those memories cause us to viciously hate those who are innocent we become no better than our enemies. Instead, we must keep the memory in our minds while we open our hearts to compassion for those who suffer the same injustices we have suffered.
Never again. Never forget. Always remember. Always live.
Friday, March 25, 2011
Reality is sobering
Maybe it's because I'm American and have grown up with an expectation of health and security. I've been raised to believe, wholeheartedly, that as long as I don't talk to strangers and I don't walk in a city alone at night and I don't drive while intoxicated then I need not fear for my wellbeing. Like a simple equation, I was taught that your own actions have their own consequences and that as such you can be the master of your own destiny.
Or maybe it's because I'm currently living on a kibbutz, surrounded by friendly, caring people who go about their daily lives without superfluous concern. The perimeter of my temporary home is innocuously lined with a fence of barbed wire (surprisingly commonplace in this country), and I am lulled into the security of this sheltered community where I can walk freely day and night without fear of harm.
But the bombing at a Jerusalem bus stop on Wednesday has shaken me in ways I do not quite comprehend.
At 3:00 PM Israel time (8:00 am Central Standard Time, USA), a bomb hidden inside a bag exploded, injuring about 40 people. The bag had been left at the bus stop and remotely detonated, and thanks to witnesses, police and Israeli Defense Forces have at least some idea of the terrorist they're tracking. Among the people wounded, four were critically injured, five moderately, and the remaining were treated for minor wounds and shock. One of the women who was seriously injured died later that afternoon due to the injuries she sustained. She was a British tourist.
In class that afternoon our Ulpan director came to tell us the news. When he left the room, leaving in his wake a shocked silence and unnameable tinge of fear, our teacher simply said "Welcome to Israel."
With the exception of a bombing in 2004, Jerusalem has been quiet and relatively peaceful for the past decade. But despite the silence in the national news Israel at large has not experienced peace. Just last week a mom, dad, and three of their five children were slaughtered in their home in the West Bank. Near Gaza in the South, non-explosive rockets are continually lobbed into Israel, hitting nearby cities such as Sderot, and even Beersheba and Ashdod. For people who live in those corners of the country, that threat is simply part of their reality, a constant warning that hovers in the air, becoming part of their breath and life.
To a larger extent, that threat exists everywhere in Israel, and for the first time I think I'm beginning to recognize it. The question is: How do you function with that fear?
It seems the secret to living in Israel and, more specifically, as an Israeli, is to recognize what you can affect and what you cannot, which dangers you can avoid and which you should simply ignore because you have no control over them. You need to trust and have faith in whichever power you choose, whether it be the government, the military, G-d, Man, or the balance of the Universe at large. Following events such as the bombing in Jerusalem or the rockets in Sderot, people learn quickly that the healthiest way to react is to move on, to continue with life as you did the day before. בלי פניקה - without panic.
The amazing thing is that you never actually see any fear in the people around you. Maybe it doesn't exist. Maybe this is all a psychological projection of my own insecurities and American sensibilities. But regardless of whether or not the fear is present it is a testament to the Israeli psyche that life can continue, and joyfully, too.
The reality is that despite threats of violence, life does go on. Traffic flows, stores open and close, the vendors at the shook still yell and bargain and loudly advertise their choicest merchandise. Children still ride the bus to school, parents still go to their offices, and teenagers still try desperately to vainly promote their individuality, just like everyone else. Palm trees remain standing tall, birds still sing, and flowers still look on, demurely adding color and joy to the lives of people who pass them by.
Fear has no place in a world such as this, and people who fear cannot possibly enjoy the plethora of goodness that does exist.
So as a temporary kibbutznik and resident in this tiny country, I, too, will not fear. I'll still make sure not to walk alone in the city at night, and I won't dare get behind any wheel, but I will not waste time in useless contemplation of what is beyond my control.
After all, life is meant to be lived.
Or maybe it's because I'm currently living on a kibbutz, surrounded by friendly, caring people who go about their daily lives without superfluous concern. The perimeter of my temporary home is innocuously lined with a fence of barbed wire (surprisingly commonplace in this country), and I am lulled into the security of this sheltered community where I can walk freely day and night without fear of harm.
But the bombing at a Jerusalem bus stop on Wednesday has shaken me in ways I do not quite comprehend.
At 3:00 PM Israel time (8:00 am Central Standard Time, USA), a bomb hidden inside a bag exploded, injuring about 40 people. The bag had been left at the bus stop and remotely detonated, and thanks to witnesses, police and Israeli Defense Forces have at least some idea of the terrorist they're tracking. Among the people wounded, four were critically injured, five moderately, and the remaining were treated for minor wounds and shock. One of the women who was seriously injured died later that afternoon due to the injuries she sustained. She was a British tourist.
In class that afternoon our Ulpan director came to tell us the news. When he left the room, leaving in his wake a shocked silence and unnameable tinge of fear, our teacher simply said "Welcome to Israel."
With the exception of a bombing in 2004, Jerusalem has been quiet and relatively peaceful for the past decade. But despite the silence in the national news Israel at large has not experienced peace. Just last week a mom, dad, and three of their five children were slaughtered in their home in the West Bank. Near Gaza in the South, non-explosive rockets are continually lobbed into Israel, hitting nearby cities such as Sderot, and even Beersheba and Ashdod. For people who live in those corners of the country, that threat is simply part of their reality, a constant warning that hovers in the air, becoming part of their breath and life.
To a larger extent, that threat exists everywhere in Israel, and for the first time I think I'm beginning to recognize it. The question is: How do you function with that fear?
It seems the secret to living in Israel and, more specifically, as an Israeli, is to recognize what you can affect and what you cannot, which dangers you can avoid and which you should simply ignore because you have no control over them. You need to trust and have faith in whichever power you choose, whether it be the government, the military, G-d, Man, or the balance of the Universe at large. Following events such as the bombing in Jerusalem or the rockets in Sderot, people learn quickly that the healthiest way to react is to move on, to continue with life as you did the day before. בלי פניקה - without panic.
The amazing thing is that you never actually see any fear in the people around you. Maybe it doesn't exist. Maybe this is all a psychological projection of my own insecurities and American sensibilities. But regardless of whether or not the fear is present it is a testament to the Israeli psyche that life can continue, and joyfully, too.
The reality is that despite threats of violence, life does go on. Traffic flows, stores open and close, the vendors at the shook still yell and bargain and loudly advertise their choicest merchandise. Children still ride the bus to school, parents still go to their offices, and teenagers still try desperately to vainly promote their individuality, just like everyone else. Palm trees remain standing tall, birds still sing, and flowers still look on, demurely adding color and joy to the lives of people who pass them by.
Fear has no place in a world such as this, and people who fear cannot possibly enjoy the plethora of goodness that does exist.
So as a temporary kibbutznik and resident in this tiny country, I, too, will not fear. I'll still make sure not to walk alone in the city at night, and I won't dare get behind any wheel, but I will not waste time in useless contemplation of what is beyond my control.
After all, life is meant to be lived.
Thursday, March 10, 2011
And now for something completely different
After over three weeks of protests and public dissent in Wisconsin, I can no longer conceal my extreme aggravation and truculence regarding Governor Scott Walker's attempt to demonize the lower and middle class, as well as teachers and other public workers. It has come to my attention that with help from the Republican-dominated Wisconsin Senate, the slightly modified Budget Repair Bill has passed through the Senate without the presence of any Democratic congressmen. I was never pleased with the bill or Walker's attempts to hastily push it through, but this most recent act goes beyond my personal concerns about the bill itself or its effect on public workers' unions. This reprehensible act is no less than a sick perversion of power with complete disregard to the American political process. It goes beyond an attempt to fix Wisconsin's budget, goes beyond personal vendettas, goes beyond Wisconsin itself: this act is a sign of the desperate political climate in which America finds itself, and it terrifies me to no end. For the first time in my life, a political travesty is bringing me to tears.
2008 was the first year I could vote in a presidential election and thus was the first time I had payed significant attention to the process. I was both excited and astonished by what I saw and experienced. After eight years of a president who gradually lost the grace of public opinion, America as a whole was ready and eager for a new president. We yearned for charisma and strength, a person who would serve not only as our country's leader but as an American Hero to majestically save us from our steady downward slide. Each citizen pinned their hopes on candidates with the strongest personality, the most eloquent speech, the greatest smile, the strongest handshake. For months on end, people rallied and raved for their top pick.
At the beginning, it was exciting and intriguing, but by the end the scene seemed to change. Sure, there was still passion and hope among supporters of all parties, but somehow, imperceptibly, the goal had changed. By the time Obama and McCain were shoe-ins for the ultimate showdown it was no longer about electing the most competent potential president: it was a competition between the Left and the Right, the Democrats and Republicans, the Liberals and Conservatives, to win. And apparently it was stipulated in some unwritten code that whoever won got bragging rights and power over the opposing party for the next few years.
At least until the congressional and state elections.
What has transpired in Wisconsin since our gubernatorial election is precisely what happened in 2008 but with a vengeance. If Walker's actions are any indication, we currently face a political climate which completely disregards the intent of a system designed with checks and balances to ensure the most fair and impartial representation of the People. What we as a country have stumbled into is, quite frankly, one giant pissing contest. Unfortunately, society is a hierarchy. And gravity is strong.
Despite its introduction, this editorial is not about Walker, nor is it about Republicans or the State of Wisconsin. It is about what we as Americans are doing to ourselves and each other in our zealous quest for dominion and pride. Neither Republicans nor Democrats are immune to this, and both are guilty of underhanded moves and questionable tactics to win. Win what? I'm not sure anyone really knows anymore.
It seems to me that the American political party system was designed to ensure that the optimism of one party was always tempered by (but not overruled by) the realism of the other. Traditionally, Democrats support and are supported by the lower and middle classes, and their agenda includes public programs and aid for those who might otherwise not have such options. So the Democrats go to Congress saying "I want to do this! I want to give all this money to the people who have less! I want to educate and offer opportunities to people who otherwise have none!" And, as I imagine it was intended, the Republicans say "Okay, but let's look at this realistically. How can we do this in the most responsible manner in order to achieve both your goals and ours?" Or the Republicans who go to Congress saying "I want to encourage business and entrepreneurship! I want people to make lives for themselves and to be rewarded for doing so!" The Democrats' job is then to listen and say "Great idea. Now how do we make this work without subjugating others who are not businessmen and women?"
Now, wouldn't that be idyllic?
Instead what we have are two parties who refuse to listen to the other or even to the people they represent. They take the power of their party and run with it, as far and as quickly as they can, before they are caught or overrun. This is not politics. This is sports. Played with very unsportsmanlike conduct.
(Have you noticed that even in the Superbowl, players from opposing teams help each other off the ground and shake hands after the game? Maybe our politicians should learn to do the same.)
In regards to Wisconsin, the sheer fact that Walker and the Republicans refused dialogue and open discourse with the Democrat representatives and the People is an example of precisely the kind of I-win-you-lose-neener-neener politics that has been displayed in this country for the last number of years.
I am sick of it in the most literal sense of the phrase. I am, in all ways, repulsed by this dyspeptic show of political steroid-induced muscle. And yet I fear it has only just begun.
2008 was the first year I could vote in a presidential election and thus was the first time I had payed significant attention to the process. I was both excited and astonished by what I saw and experienced. After eight years of a president who gradually lost the grace of public opinion, America as a whole was ready and eager for a new president. We yearned for charisma and strength, a person who would serve not only as our country's leader but as an American Hero to majestically save us from our steady downward slide. Each citizen pinned their hopes on candidates with the strongest personality, the most eloquent speech, the greatest smile, the strongest handshake. For months on end, people rallied and raved for their top pick.
At the beginning, it was exciting and intriguing, but by the end the scene seemed to change. Sure, there was still passion and hope among supporters of all parties, but somehow, imperceptibly, the goal had changed. By the time Obama and McCain were shoe-ins for the ultimate showdown it was no longer about electing the most competent potential president: it was a competition between the Left and the Right, the Democrats and Republicans, the Liberals and Conservatives, to win. And apparently it was stipulated in some unwritten code that whoever won got bragging rights and power over the opposing party for the next few years.
At least until the congressional and state elections.
What has transpired in Wisconsin since our gubernatorial election is precisely what happened in 2008 but with a vengeance. If Walker's actions are any indication, we currently face a political climate which completely disregards the intent of a system designed with checks and balances to ensure the most fair and impartial representation of the People. What we as a country have stumbled into is, quite frankly, one giant pissing contest. Unfortunately, society is a hierarchy. And gravity is strong.
Despite its introduction, this editorial is not about Walker, nor is it about Republicans or the State of Wisconsin. It is about what we as Americans are doing to ourselves and each other in our zealous quest for dominion and pride. Neither Republicans nor Democrats are immune to this, and both are guilty of underhanded moves and questionable tactics to win. Win what? I'm not sure anyone really knows anymore.
It seems to me that the American political party system was designed to ensure that the optimism of one party was always tempered by (but not overruled by) the realism of the other. Traditionally, Democrats support and are supported by the lower and middle classes, and their agenda includes public programs and aid for those who might otherwise not have such options. So the Democrats go to Congress saying "I want to do this! I want to give all this money to the people who have less! I want to educate and offer opportunities to people who otherwise have none!" And, as I imagine it was intended, the Republicans say "Okay, but let's look at this realistically. How can we do this in the most responsible manner in order to achieve both your goals and ours?" Or the Republicans who go to Congress saying "I want to encourage business and entrepreneurship! I want people to make lives for themselves and to be rewarded for doing so!" The Democrats' job is then to listen and say "Great idea. Now how do we make this work without subjugating others who are not businessmen and women?"
Now, wouldn't that be idyllic?
Instead what we have are two parties who refuse to listen to the other or even to the people they represent. They take the power of their party and run with it, as far and as quickly as they can, before they are caught or overrun. This is not politics. This is sports. Played with very unsportsmanlike conduct.
(Have you noticed that even in the Superbowl, players from opposing teams help each other off the ground and shake hands after the game? Maybe our politicians should learn to do the same.)
In regards to Wisconsin, the sheer fact that Walker and the Republicans refused dialogue and open discourse with the Democrat representatives and the People is an example of precisely the kind of I-win-you-lose-neener-neener politics that has been displayed in this country for the last number of years.
I am sick of it in the most literal sense of the phrase. I am, in all ways, repulsed by this dyspeptic show of political steroid-induced muscle. And yet I fear it has only just begun.
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