Jeffrey Goldberg, an acclaimed journalist, writes a stirring memoir describing how he, an unaffiliated Jew, came to embrace Zionist ideals as an adolescent and make Aliyah as a young adult, work on a kibbutz, and then serve a stint in the Israeli army as an increasingly conflicted and disillusioned prison guard overseeing Palestinian prisoners. Jeff writes eloquently and incisively about people he meets and how they flesh out his three-dimensional views of Israel and its problems:
“Gadi, in his normalcy, symbolized a paradox of the kibbutz experiment, and of the entire Zionist experiment. His grandparents came to Palestine with an idea, to make whole the Jewish people, to build ‘New Jews,’ strong and competent and close to the land, like all the other peoples of the world. For them there would be no more hand-wringing and cringing self-doubt. Well, they made Gadi and his generation normal, so normal that they wanted nothing to do with Jews. They were indifferent to the idea that Israel was meant to serve some sort of cosmic purpose, either a universal purpose, as a light unto the nations, or a tribal purpose, as an ark of refuge for lost and suffering Jews…
“The parents, and grandparents, of these young Israelis weren’t much interested in Judaism either, but with one difference: The grandparents were in revolt against texts, parched rituals, and superstitious beliefs of their parents, against the shtetl, against the Diaspora itself. But they at least knew the texts, and knew the rituals. They understood the thing they were rejecting. The grandchildren believed themselves to be in revolt, but they were revolting against nothing. They were rebels in a vacuum created by their own ignorance.” (p. 102)
Although Jeff, as an agnostic Jew with limited interest in his religion, is coming from a very different place than I am, I found these words highly insightful and reflective of the emptiness of a Zionism devoid of religious knowledge and belief.
Most of the story focuses on Jeff’s friendship with Rafiq, a Palestinian prisoner he guards and then arranges to meet up with later when both have finished doing their time in the prison. Not surprisingly, this experience of Jeff’s, together with many others he describes, serves as a microcosm of the greater Arab-Israeli conflict and of many of the internal and external challenges Israel faces.
“…I proposed a scenario to Rafiq: Imagine that it is five years from now and you are a free man, working in Jerusalem, on a building site. You see me walking down the street. I’m in civilian clothing, but you remember me as a soldier of the Israeli army, the army that occupies your land and oppresses your people. Would you kill me if you had the chance?
“To which Rafiq replied, in Hebrew, ‘Come on.’
“No, I’m serious, I said.
“Jeff, this is stupid, he said.
“Listen, I told him, I’m not going to drag you to solitary confinement if you give me the wrong answer.
“He hesitated.
“I was desperate for an answer. I was desperate, though, for the right answer – it was surpassingly important to me. He could, with the wrong answer, tear down the scaffolding of my beliefs, the belief in the power of friendship to bridge the abyss between our two tribes, the belief that I could make him my friend. I believed, with morbid sincerity, that if I could make him my friend, we would together, in some small but consequential way, defy the wicked logic of hate and war, that we, together, would stand as a rebuke to the grotesque idea that our problem was without a solution.
“Finally, he said, ‘Look, it wouldn’t be personal.’” (pp. 35-36)
Jeff’s friendship with Rafiq undergoes many transitions but ultimately appears to develop past this early point; Rafiq later reveals to Jeff that he worries when he hears about a bombing in Jerusalem and knows Jeff is there. Does this mean there is hope for the Arab-Israeli conflict? By the end of the book, Jeff and Rafiq both seem to express tentative optimism on this score, although Jeff doesn’t shy away from exploring the full complexity of this question throughout the book.
Although the narrative dragged occasionally, the book overall was beautifully written and powerful, definitely a worthwhile reading experience. I also give Jeff a great deal of credit for his evenhandedness and honesty. Jeff’s Israeli and Palestinian acquaintances alike earn his admiration and sympathy, or dislike and antipathy, or most often, ambivalence. Neither side is painted one-dimensionally.
Highly recommended, especially to people interested in valuable and personal insights into the Arab-Israeli conflict.