We are given a question and a task in Tel Aviv: walk along the streets we tell you and find the landmarks (this is the task); discuss the city as an entity (this entails the question). We are given some passages to think about:
"By this point I'm starting to wonder if Tel Aviv is simply ground zero for escapism. Has Judaism's prophetic tradition been jettisoned in favor of Dionysian revels in what Zionist leaders proclaimed the first Hebrew city?" asks Michael Z. Wise. Wise goes on to quote Dov Alfon: "There is escapism. But it's not exactly escapism. It's a real will to live. It's a hymn to life. . . . [It is n]ot the American perception of finding happiness, but happiness on a daily basis." This leads to the questions of "What is the problem about the Tel Avivian search for happiness?"; "What is un-Jewish about it?"; and, finally, "Should/Can a people who has traditionally defined itself as 'a nation that dwells alone,' as 'a kingdom of priests,' and as 'a light to the nations' aspire to happiness?"
It is just like Berlin. In theory, that is. One city searches for forgiveness from a traumatizing past perpetrated by itself and the other searches for happiness from a traumatizing past and present in world where survival makes right and wrong a moot point. The cities are tangent to one another. However, I cannot offer too much in the way of commentary regarding Tel Aviv. I have not experienced this city as I have Berlin, nor its so-called "happiness", which might perhaps better be labeled vanity. I have spent a few theoretical hours walking the streets of Tel Aviv; in other words, not enough time to acquaint myself with a ghost or a jinn, as I did in Berlin. But Berlin flaunts its ghosts and its shame. Tel Aviv flaunts happiness. I suspect that there is something crucial missing from this picture.
The descriptions are different, yes, but in light of the questions posed, I am wont to place both cities on the same spectrum, for similar and identical inquiries have been made into the natures of both cities, and ultimately about the countries of which they are a part.
The problem of the search for happiness? There is never a problem with a pure pursuit of happiness. Everyone is entitled, for I do believe in deeply, and hold proud the notion "[t]hat all men are created equal; that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights; that among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness". I will take my liberties and interpret this as someone of the contemporary age so that "all men" can be read as "all people" and so that the "pursuit of happiness" means much more than the pursuit of land. The problem? The problem is that it is a nice theory but w hen put into practice allows a very few amount of people to attain true happiness and commits a very large number to a living hell, and a life of unfulfilled dreams. We are not all dealt the same luck.
But if what has been written about Tel Aviv is true, that is happiness is Dionysian, then the problem is not the city's pursuit of happiness, but rather its happiness as "escapism" that is "not exactly escapism". It is a symptom of the "real will to live", and it is a will to live right now, in the moment. All of this begs the question of what has awoken these people to "real life". I am not saying that this is problematic. I am going to examine the nature of this particular happiness.
The "real will to live" comes from somewhere--the real threat of no tomorrow, the real possibility of never having another chance at simple pleasures like a good coffee or a day at the beach. It puts things in perspective: the ephemerality of existence, the significance of
a single moment, of a single life. This is a society where life is sacred above all else, and not one of martyrs where glory can only be achieved in death. Each individual is worth an entire world, each tear is valued with as much weight as a smile.But it is also a society where Reality is harsh, and where childhood has a definite and dated end. On the other hand, young children can still walk the streets unattended and without fear of danger, where strangers will do you favors, where the strangers will love you for no rhye and no reason other than that it's right, no questions asked. I have never experienced this before, especially on this level.
Of course, there are issues, many elephants in tiny rooms. The focus should not be on only ones of these issues, but on many. In particular, more should be focused on what is being done about them here, on the ground. A balanced picture is the only one worth anything.
Yesterday, as you have probably guessed, I attended an educational seminar day in Tel Aviv. We met a lot of children at the Rigozin School in the south of the city and learned about the situation in whic foreign workers from all over the world find themselves. Many have overstayed their visas (usually good for five years) and face deportation. Yet for the children of these workers, many of whom were born in Israel, education is a right. They speak Hebrew fluenty and consider this country their home. The result is often a crisis of identity: who are they? They have never been to their countries of ethnic origin but also face prejudice from the greater Israeli society, from both Jews and Palestinians. They are taking away work, after all. Some have received permanent residency and are proudly entering the army. Other children at the school are African refugees from Sudan (Darfur), Somalia, Eritrea, Egypt, etc. The children here are from every place imaginable: Africa, South America, the Philippines. The list goes on.
When it comes to refugees, we have those elephants in the room. There are over 10,000 African refugees in Israel now, with more crossing the border from Egypt every month in numbers reaching about 600. They pose a great dilemma in this country, as do other refugees: how can the country say no to helping those seeking refuge from persecution and almost certai
n murder considering its people's own history as Jews? On the other hand, if Israel is to remain a Jewish country, which mean the maintenance of a Jewish majority, how can it tolerate the stresses of an added non-Jewish population that not only pressures its morals but its financial capability to handle the non-tax-paying burden. One argument is to shoot them as they cross the border--no bodies, no worries--like the Egyptians do. Another argument is to take them in as Israel currently does, but this leaves them with a semi-illegal status and the inability to work. Yet another argument states that granting these refugees permanent residency, work permits, and equal opportunities in this society would strengthen Israel's support base around the globe once these refugees return home, which is their overall ultimate hope. All dilemmas aside, the refugees remain here and continue to cross the border and have become a very real part of Israeli society, albeit a controversial one.
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