There’s this guy you keep seeing around. He favors muscle shirts and cut-offs, even when it’s chilly out. When he walks, he has a way of putting his weight on the balls of his feet, like he’s looking for something to pounce on. Sometimes, when’s passing a shop window, he makes a sidelong glance at himself and flexes his triceps until he can see them ripple. And he talks up attractive women at every opportunity. One day, though, he sits down next to you on the bus and starts up a conversation without any obvious agenda. You’re surprised at how articulate he is and notice that his whole appearance changes the longer you talk. The bravado you used to silently indict from afar now seems like a layer of clothing he wears to cope with emotional weather. So when he asks for your phone number, you give it and make sure to get his in return. A week later you go by his place for the first time. He shows you to a seat on the couch and returns to what he’d been doing. “ My grandmother taught me to knit. It’s a great way to relax. Plus, I can make my friends gifts instead of buying them something in the store.” You sit back, a little dumbfounded. The television is tuned to an old movie. He senses your question. “Fellini, before he went surreal.”

Monotonix’s Body Language is that guy. At first, this hearty EP produced by the trio of guitarist Yonatan Gat, drummer Ran Shimoni and front man Ami Shalev seems like a sinewy testament to the virtues of in-your-face metal funk, an able reconstitution of the formula made wildly popular by bands like the Red Hot Chili Peppers when George the First was President. Bridging the difference between “sanguine” and “sanguinary,” the rhythm’s happy-minded aggression sets you throbbing. If you go through life lamenting the lack of hardness in your rock, this record will redress the dysfunction with brutal efficiency. What gives Body Language real staying power, though, is that it stays firm without becoming simplistic. The longer you listen, the more its taut climaxes seem like a cover story diverting attention from feelings not bound to the beat.

While Monotonix hits its 1970s reference points square, from Black Sabbath to Funkadelic, the overall effect is not simple nostalgia so much as longing for the sort of reconciliation that usually requires the perspective afforded by distance. They don’t sound like a band that actually existed in that decade. Body Language urges listeners to acknowledge the past rather than relive it.. This is where the fact that the band is from Tel Aviv rather than New York or London looms largest. In some ways, Israelis relate to that decade just like their American and European counterparts. The promise of the 1960s gave way to disillusionment in Israel, too. From the horror of Munich to the Yom Kippur War, to the widening ideological divide between liberal and conservative Israelis confirmed by the Likud party's rise to power, the 1970s were not an era that inspired much optimism.

And the rock music of that period that served as its soundtrack, most of it imported from the United States and the United Kingdom, was imbued with an aura of resignation, expressing a desire for rebellion without devotion to a cause. Its hardness, in other words, tended towards cynicism. That’s why the moments when Body Language temporarily foregoes the masculinist party line are so significant. The title track is a perfect example. After starting with a riff straight out of Guitar Hero and vocalist Shalev sing-speaking his lines like a man whose face is frozen in a sneer, the song veers into a chorus that turns that cocksure pose inside out. Recontextualized against a mournful figure that sounds like something from a Euro-Pop number of the 1980s, the very antithesis of classic rock swagger, Shalev's voice metamorphoses into an instrument of introspective regret. To be sure, that transformation is balanced by the irony that he never relinquishes. But the music prevents his words from coming off as insincere.

Much has been made of how widely Body Language diverges from Monotonix’s live shows, already legendary for breaking down every barrier between audience and performer even though they are a relatively new act from a place typically regarded as a rock music backwater. While it’s true that the record sounds a lot more polished and “rockist” than their anarchic concerts, however, it produces similar effects. In a live setting, the band encourages listeners to dispense with convention and the distance that helps to maintain it. And that’s what they do on Body Language as well, the difference being that breaking their audience free of mental chains in that context requires a different approach. Either way, Monotonix lure you into their work, inspiring trepidation, only to invite you to sit down on the sofa and watch them knit for a while. In a culture where men have long been trained to root all traces of softness out of their personality, that’s a message with more ideological import than the shouting of political slogans.

Check out a recent show by the band on WFMU.

Joel Teitelbaum, the Rebbe of Satmar and the most coercive of all modern day ultra-Orthodox leaders, passed away 29 years ago this month.  A vociferous anti-Zionist, Teitelbaum is known for having exhorted his followers to stay in Europe.  Later, as the Nazis approached, he was one of many Hungarian ultra-Orthodox rabbis who told their flocks to remain calm.  There is nothing to worry about, these rabbis announced, God will protect us because of our anti-Zionism.

Unfortunately for Teitelbaum’s followers, God didn’t go along with his promises. While most of his followers perished in Auschwitz, Teitelbaum went into hiding and later escaped to freedom. He did not do this through his own ingenuity or through some divine intervention – Joel Teitelbaum, uber-anti-Zionist, was saved from certain death by a Zionist leader.

That Zionist, Rudolph Kasztner, organized the largest Holocaust rescue of Jews by another Jew.  He did it with smoke and mirrors, with bravado and slight of hand. Kasztner saved thousands of his people by negotiating with Adolph Eichmann – short of Hitler, the most feared Nazi in the world. Oskar Schindler of Schindler’s List fame said Kasztner was the bravest man he knew.

After the War, Teitelbaum lived for a brief time in Palestine, where he became a leader of the rabidly anti-Zionist, rabidly anti-modern, Edah HaCharedit. When you read about Jerusalem video stores being torched or Internet cafés trashed, chances are the thugs who did it are proudly affiliated with Edah HaCharedit.

Teitelbaum couldn’t stand what he saw as the ‘destruction’ of the Holy Land by the irreligious and imperfectly religious – in practice, pretty much everyone who wasn’t a Teitelbaum follower or acolyte. So, in 1946, Teitelbaum moved to Brooklyn and set up what was then his small hasidic court.  Teitelbaum found America’s Orthodox welcoming, and America’s Jewish welfare agencies helped to resettle many of his followers in Brooklyn.

You’ve probably heard the stories about these American Jews – the same ones who were so hospitable and supportive of Teitelbaum when he first arrived: Pious Jews fled pogroms in Eastern Europe.  The need to make a living in America forced them to give up strict Shabbat observance and other Orthodox practices. Their children, lacking the example of fully Orthodox parents, became even less observant. If those pious Jews had just kept Shabbat, the story goes, their descendants would still be Orthodox today.

The flip side to this story is another story you’ve also probably heard: Seemingly pious Eastern European Jews board a ship bound for America. As the ship leaves the harbor and gets beyond sight of the shore, they cut off their beards and pitch their tefillin into the sea.

Both stories probably happened, although the first was probably far more common than the second. But even though these are iconic stories, neither really tells the tale of Eastern European immigration to the United States. That is because both are based on a lie – the idea that these immigration ships were filled with characters out of Broadway’s Fiddler On The Roof: long-bearded shtetl-dwellers with untrimmed earlocks, whose only brush with secular culture had taken place moments before.

By the 1920s, the masses of Eastern European Jews were secular or only nominally religious. Emancipation, which spread throughout Europe during the 19th century,  made belonging to a religious community – and following that community’s laws – optional. Ultra-Orthodox Judaism, itself a reactionary movement to the Enlightenment that preceded Emancipation, lost its state-sponsored coercive powers as did all forms of Orthodoxy. And Jews, no longer forced to be Orthodox or ultra-Orthodox, left Orthodoxy by the tens of thousands as a result.

Most Jews who came to America during the great wave of immigration in the late 19th and early 20th centuries were neither ultra-Orthodox or rabidly secular – they were somewhere in between. They were Jews with a respect for Jewish law and tradition, but they were also Jews who appreciated and enjoyed secular culture and the freedoms it gave them.

The Orthodoxy they found in America was more suited to this hybrid outlook than the Orthodoxy of Eastern Europe. Never subject to state enforcement of religious law, American Jews – even American Orthodox Jews – took any type of religious coercion badly.

These new immigrants developed their own versions of Orthodoxy, too, founding shuls grouped around country or city of origin. In part, they did this to preserve the unique customs they grew up with. But they also did it for coarser, more practical reasons. These new shuls also served as affinity associations, and the social networking they provided helped immigrants land jobs and acclimate to American life. These shuls were rarely coercive – you paid your dues and you helped out with a minyan when you were able, and you were in.

These old and new American Orthodox Jews founded yeshivas like Torah Vodaas in Brooklyn and what would later become Yeshiva University in Manhattan. They also founded or helped to found many of the leading national Jewish organizations of their day, including what we now know as the American Jewish Joint Distribution Committee and other welfare organizations meant to help suffering Jews in Eastern Europe and beyond.

Despite this, and despite the fact that these same American Orthodox Jews would be instrumental in rescuing and resettling Eastern European Jews during and after the Holocaust, Teitelbaum rejected American Orthodoxy as impure and watered down by compromise and modernity.  He sought to impose Edah HaCharedit standards on it, demanding stricter forms of kashrut and the rejection of all secular values, including basic secular education. He created a community virtually walled off from the rest of society. And, when that was not enough, he created another in Upstate New York that now carries his name.To this day, when Satmar hasidim choose to leave Brooklyn or Kiryas Joel and the hasidic life, they often leave it illiterate in English. An entire organization, Footsteps, exists primarily to help these former hasids adapt to American life.

Yet the pull of a closed life and the allure of rebuilding a fantasy version of pre-Holocaust Satmar Jewish life was strong. Teitelbaum’s group grew to be largest hasidic court in America, although that growth has far more to do with the fertility and fruitfulness of its members (not to mention the difficulties those members face when defecting) than it does with the attractiveness of its lifestyle to outsiders.

Like the Edah HaCharedit, Teitelbaum and the movement he founded are ultra-Orthodoxy unvarnished, presented without PR agencies or concern for anyone else’s opinion.

Although he had opportunities to do so, Joel Teitelbaum never thanked the man who saved his life. Teitelbaum even refused to acknowledge that a Zionist had saved him. His pat answer when pressed was that he was saved by God, not by man, and would discuss the issue no further. Perhaps most shockingly, despite the failure of his theology and the success of Israel, Teitelbaum continued his anti-Zionist agitation, becoming the leading anti-Zionist in the world.

He showed little if any respect for the American Orthodox community that initially welcomed him, and he eventually shunned its leaders just as he shunned their schools, shuls, and organizations.

Many of the men and women who immigrated to pre-Holocaust America did so to flee men like Teitelbaum and the extremism that so often surrounds them.  That did not mean they threw their Judaism into the sea.  It meant they wanted to live a life free from religious enforcers and from antisemitism – a life where they could rise or fall based on their merits, not on their religious observance. In short, they wanted an American life, not an ultra-Orthodox one.

In a fit of rabid theodicy unmatched in modern times, Teitelbaum ultimately blamed Zionism for the Holocaust itself.

Did you know that the little kosher symbol on your food may have a geopolitical, rather than strictly religious, purpose – especially if you live in Israel? Some Orthodox rabbis in the Holy Land use that symbol to reduce the number of Palestinians working in Israel. Here’s how it works:

Jewish law requires that many foods be cooked by Jews. This means that even if the ingredients are fully kosher and the food was prepared in a kosher kitchen under the watchful eye of an Orthodox Jew, if a non-Jew did the cooking, Jews are not supposed to eat that food.

Of course, if you’ve eaten a kosher restaurant lately, you probably noticed non-Jews working there. You may also have noticed that many of those non-Jewish workers seem to be directly involved in food preparation. That’s because Jewish law has provisions in place to circumvent the ban. And herein lies the story.

Before the 16th century publication of the Shulkhan Arukh, the standard code still in use today, Jewish law was hodgepodge that varied much from place to place. While the biblical and Talmudic laws were constant, rabbinic laws, edicts, and interpretations were not. But the upheaval caused by the expulsion from Spain and the resulting Inquisition created a situation where Jews, all refugees from different towns and countries, now lived side by side as refugees. This meant Jews living in adjoining houses were each following, in effect, different laws.

Rabbi Yosef Karo, an exile from Spain who settled in Tzefat, now in northern Israel, sought to rectify this situation by standardizing and codifying Jewish law. It almost worked.

Karo relied on three major early legal works, the Rif, the Rosh, and Mishne Torah of Maimonides. The Rif was written in North Africa, and reflects the customs of prevalent there. The Rosh is representative of Ashkenazim, German Jewry, and its outgrowths. The Mishne Torah, although written in Egypt, reflects the traditions of Maimonides’ Spanish homeland. In effect, what Karo did is place the traditions of the three major Jewish communities extant at that time in front of him and decide the law based on the majority. So, for example, if Spain and Germany said "permitted," and North Africa said "prohibited," the majority won.

For the most part, Sefardi and North African Jewish communities accepted Karo’s code. Eastern European Jewry did not.

Rabbi Moshe Isserles, a leading Polish rabbi and contemporary of Karo known as the Rama, thought Karo had shorted Ashkenazi traditions. He wrote a commentary to Karo’s work, pointing out every case where current Ashkenazi practice differed from Karo’s decision. From the late 16th century onward, Karo’s Shulkhan Arukh has been printed with Isserles’ commentary interwoven in its text. Karo’s attempt at unity failed.

So, what does all of this have to do with our restaurant problem? Karo’s code calls for a Jew to start the fire used for cooking. Without this involvement, most foods cooked by non-Jews are forbidden for Jews to eat.

Isserles allows a Jew to do a minor symbolic action – adding kindling to an existing fire, for example. In his view, this permits the food.

In Israel today, Isserles’ view on this issue determines the law for restaurants and food producers that carry the Jerusalem Rabbinate’s basic kosher supervision. In practice, this means a rabbinic supervisor can visit most restaurants in the morning, light the oven’s pilot lights, and leave. The restaurants' non-Jewish cooks – generally Palestinians – cook without his direct supervision for most of the day, while the rabbinic supervisor spot checks the restaurants periodically.

Karo’s stricter view is followed by restaurants and food producers carrying the Jerusalem Rabbinate’s mehadrin, “choice,” supervision. These restaurants tend to have a rabbinic supervisor on premises at all times, as well.

But now a group of settler rabbis, overwhelmingly Ashkenazim of eastern European origin, are challenging the Jerusalem Rabbinate’s reliance on Isserles, the Ashkenazi codifier. Why? Because forcing the Jerusalem Rabbinate to follow the stricter Sefardi view would force many restaurants to hire more Jews and, more importantly for these settler rabbis, to fire Arabs.

Kosharot, supposedly meant to be a kosher industry watchdog, leaked a report smearing dozens of Jerusalem eateries. The charges range from lax supervision to allowing Arabs to place uncooked food on the fire. Meanwhile, the Jerusalem Rabbinate, itself under ultra-Orthodox control, blasted Kosharot’s report, pointing out significant errors of both fact and law.

Rabbi Benny Lau, a leader of moderate Orthodox rabbis, investigated Kosharot’s charges and refuted them. He wrote, "There is a real concern that Kosharot's interests are not restricted solely to Halacha and kashrut. Rather, for them it is no less important to reduce the number of non-Jews working in Israel.”

But this is far from the first time kosher food law has been misused for a non-food-related purpose. Perhaps the earliest account on record goes back to the dawn of Rabbinic Judaism itself, approximately forty years before the destruction of the Second Temple.

The schools of Hillel and Shammai, the two competing camps that made up Rabbinic Judaism in the 1st century, disagreed about many aspects of Jewish law. One of those aspects was Judaism’s treatment of non-Jews. Shammai’s school waned gentiles kept as far away from Jews as possible. It viewed gentiles as a corrupting influence, and contact with them, in Shammai’s view, posed an unacceptable risk of intermarriage.

Shammai’s school tried to pass legislation banning contact with gentiles and enhancing the spiritual “cleanliness” of Jews. Hillel’s school opposed this. Shammai’s followers did not have the votes to win – so they went dirty. The Jerusalem Talmud (Shabbat 1:4) describes what happened.

The sages were meeting at the home of a prominent supporter, on the roof deck of his house. Beit Shammai came armed, murdered several members of Hillel’s school, and blocked the exits from the roof. Hillel’s remaining followers were held at spear-point until they cast votes for Shammai’s anti-gentile legislation. The 18 gezerot (decrees) proposed by Shammai’s school were then passed into law. The Jerusalem Talmud calls this day the “blackest day” to befall the Jewish people since the destruction of the Temple.

Most of those 18 gezerot are in force to this day, including bans on gentile-baked bread and gentile-produced wine. The theory was, if you can’t eat a gentile’s bread or drink his wine, you can’t eat in his home. If you can’t eat in his home, you can’t socialize with him. And, if you can’t socialize with him, you probably won’t marry him.

The law forbidding food cooked by non-Jews is a derivative of those laws.

What Israel’s settler rabbis are doing isn’t that different from what Shammai’s followers did. What they could never gain legitimately they seek to gain through fraud and deceit.

A flip side to this is B’maaglei Tzedek, a moderate Orthodox justice organization that certifies restaurants treat their employees fairly. About one third of Jerusalem restaurants now carry this certification alongside kosher supervision from the Jerusalem Rabbinate.

While Rabbinic Judaism claims to be following the traditions of Hillel’s school, the truth is far more complex. Rabbinic Judaism is a blend of both Hillel and Shammai’s outlook. In most ritual matters, we follow Hillel. But, in matters relating to contact with gentiles, Shammai’s view – the more radical and restrictive – still prevails.
Fanatics see the world in black and white, and their law reflects that. Moderates understand that nuance exists and that there is room for compromise. The fanatic position is easier to sell – think right wing talk radio – because moderation requires living with complexity and the uncertainty that always shadows it. Although the Academy was dominated by Hillel’s moderates, the populace was solidly in Shammai’s corner and would remain so until the Second Temple was destroyed. Indeed, it is thought that many of the zealots who helped cause the destruction were children of Shammai’s followers.

Just like in ancient times, there are two polarizing forces in Rabbinic Judaism. One is ever more radical, restrictive and exclusionary; the other, moderate.

Have the lessons of the past been learned? Only time will tell.

Noah Shachtman, editor of Wired's blog on national security, and in my mind one of the best reporters on that beat, has a great post on how Israel's military connection to Georgia is fueling increasing discord between Israel and Russia:

The Russian military blasted Israel today for supplying weapons and training to its adversaries in Georgia.

"Israel armed the Georgian army," Russian Deputy Chief of General Staff Gen. Anatoly Nogovitsyn told a Moscow press conference. Jerusalem provided Tblisi with "eight types of military vehicles, explosives, landmines and special explosives for the clearing minefields [sic]. "

"In 2007, Israeli experts trained Georgian commandos," he added. Georgia's Deputy Defense Minister Batu Kutelia previously said that "Georgian corporals and sergeants train with Germans, alpine units and the navy work with French instructors, and special operations and urban warfare troops are taught by Israelis."

Tensions between Georgia and Russia ratcheted up the spring, after Russia and her allies in the breakaway region of Abkhazia shot down a number of Georgian spy drones. Those unmanned Hermes 450 reconnaissance planes were made by Israel's Elbit Systems.

The two countries have been doing military hardware deals for almost seven years, "following an initiative by Georgian citizens who immigrated to Israel and became businesspeople," Ynetnews notes. "The fact that Georgia's defense minister, Davit Kezerashvili, is a former Israeli who is fluent in Hebrew contributed to this cooperation."

 Continue reading "How Israel Trained. . " 

And if you've got the Shachtman bug, check out his still very relevant Wired feature (published in November, '07), How Technology Almost Lost the War. One of the better pieces of analytical reporting on the war-planner's miscalculations, providing what amounts to a fascinating primer on the evolution of military strategy. 

Affirmative Action: or reverse discrimination?Home Center, an Israeli home wares chain, has been offering  a secret discount to Arabs. When customer Eli Chai discovered and reported this last week, a Home Center spokesperson explained, “Home Center offers a wide range of attractive discounts throughout the year. As part of a plan to target specific communities, the chain offers different discounts for different sectors from time to time.”

The situation does seem pretty odd, but not altogether uncalled for. I wouldn’t be surprised if Arabs do more than 70% of the construction in Israel, and thus end up spending the most money at those sorts of stores. Why wouldn’t Home Center capitalize on that customer base by offering a good deal?

Of course, that’s not how it’s being framed in Israel. Chai is quoted as saying, “I didn't expect to get a discount, but I was appalled when I realized that had I been Arab I would have received one. I tried to think what would happen if it was a discount only for Jews, or Sephardim, or Ashkenazim.”

There's plenty of discrimination against Arabs in Israel, and Chai isn’t bothered by that. But when Arabs are favored, it’s a grave in justice!  It may feel inappropriate to offer a discount based on ethnicity, but it’s hardly shocking in a society that’s so clearly divided along those lines.

Ehud Olmert's announcement that he would step down from office caught no one by surprise. The drama surrounding the announcement was typical of Olmert, a Prime Minister who has always been much more style than substance.

Israel treats its politicians harshly, even by the cynical standards of the twenty-first century. Almost all leave office under a cloud of disgrace. Where American presidents, even those who left office in disgrace, are generally respected figures in their later lives, even towering figures like Golda Meir, Moshe Dayan, and David Ben-Gurion, all held in almost idolatrous esteem in the United States, were treated much less ceremoniously in Israel.

On the flipside, disgraced leaders in Israel often have an easier time rehabilitating their image than do leaders in the United States, often even climbing the rungs of party politics to regain positions at the top of government. Such was the case with Ariel Sharon, who rebounded from the debacle of the first Lebanon War in 1982 to regain his position in the Likud Party, eventually becoming its leader and winning the premiership before forming his own party. Ehud Barak suffered the worst defeat of any incumbent Prime Minister ever, yet came back to lead the Labor Party and hold the Defense portfolio. Benjamin Netanyahu left office amid scandal and anger, after being soundly defeated by Barak, yet is currently the leading candidate for Prime Minister in most polls. Both Yitzhak Rabin and Shimon Peres regained the office after earlier tenures that were widely regarded as failures.

But Ehud Olmert is a different story. Never highly regarded to begin with, little was expected of him as a leader. That might well explain why he could survive his catastrophic failures, chiefly the disastrous 2006 Lebanon war, which might well have felled almost any previous prime minister. Instead, Olmert was brought down by much more mundane scandals, of the kind his predecessor, Ariel Sharon, easily weathered. Not ever having achieved a heroic stature, Olmert did not have far to fall-and likewise, has little hope of bouncing back up to his previous status.

Olmert's Political History

Ehud Olmert is a consummate politician. He was probably better suited to being a top adviser, a man who pulls the strings in anonymity, than being a public leader with all eyes on him as he conducts the show.

From his earliest days in politics, Olmert showed a keen sense for the game, whether in victory or defeat. He made a name for himself at the tender age of twenty-one, when in an impassioned speech at the Gahal alliance convention (a predecessor of today's Likud coalition) he called for the resignation of Gahal's leader, Menachem Begin, of Olmert's own Herut party.

Though Begin easily survived the challenge, Olmert had begun to build a reputation as a shrewd political thinker and a particularly gifted speaker. At the age of twenty-eight, he was elected to the Knesset, and, soon after, faced his first scandal, being accused of mishandling Likud funds in connection with a much larger scandal involving various crime figures, politicians and businesspeople. Though he managed to avoid scandal for a long time after, this might now be seen as a harbinger of things to come.

Olmert's skill for politics allowed him to steadily rise in the Likud coalition, but the center stage of Israeli politics always eluded him. His lack of charisma, his generally officious manner, and his lack of strong ideological fervor kept him from rising too far up the Likud list. He needed to find a way to make a bigger mark. He found it in 1993, mere months after the Likud fell completely out of the government for the first time since Begin's stunning victory in 1977. Olmert saw his opportunity in the aging mayor of Jerusalem, Teddy Kollek. He ran against the much more liberal Kollek and defeated him.

Ehud Olmert's term as mayor saw the industrialization of Jerusalem and the development of its light rail system. But it was also characterized by sharpening divisions between Jews and Arabs in the city, both socially and physically, as well a marked increase in the politicization of the city. Olmert was very involved in Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's moves to increasingly "Judaize" all of Jerusalem. Olmert was instrumental, for instance, in pushing forward such items as the opening of an archaeological tunnel in 1996 that sparked days of intense rioting. He was also a strong supporter of the construction of Har Homa, a settlement in East Jerusalem that continues to be a major disruption for Jerusalem's Palestinians and a serious obstacle to a peace agreement.

When Ariel Sharon rose from the political ashes and completed his long climb back to the top of Likud, Olmert again sensed opportunity. Hitching his wagon to the resurgent right and its charismatic leader, Olmert stepped into a more prominent role than ever in national politics. Fortune smiled on him when Sharon embarked on his "separation plan" from Gaza. In the mercurial Olmert, Sharon saw a man who could help to transform his image from the right-wing "bulldozer" and instigator of settlement drives to that of the conservative, pragmatic centrist. Olmert became Sharon's number two. Serving as the Prime Minister's second in command turned out to be even more fortuitous than Olmert could have imagined when Sharon lapsed into a coma after a stroke at the dawn of the new year of 2006.

Olmert's Premiership

Ehud Olmert is in many ways the antithesis of Sharon. He is not a charismatic or highly ideological leader, or one with great military skill. He assumed office at a time of great turmoil, even by Israel's standards. Mere weeks after he became acting Prime Minister, Hamas won a clear majority of seats in the Palestinian Legislative Council. Tensions were brewing in the north with Hezbollah, and the disastrous American misadventure in Iraq had severely de-stabilized the whole region and greatly enhanced Iran's power.

Olmert did little to help Israel deal with these challenges. He was unable to chart a truly independent Israeli course. His failure to do so was magnified by the fact that, though he was considered a ‘friend' of the U.S. President, Olmert never received the kind of respect in Washington that his predecessor, Ariel Sharon, had. In dealing with Hamas, Lebanon and Iran, Israel became much more of a follower of the United States policy in the Middle East than the semi-independent entity it had always prided itself as being.

Nevertheless, despite such failings, during his tenure in office Olmert did demonstrate certain core strengths. When the leader of the state's workers' union, Amir Peretz, rose to lead the Labor Party, Olmert faced a leader who could potentially command a strong popular base. Though Peretz had a long way to go before he could reverse the decades-long decline of Labor, the Morroccan-born politician was bringing a fresh, Mizrahi face to Israeli politics, one that was neither religious nor conservative, and a commitment to combating social inequality and economic neo-liberalism.

Olmert refused to offer Peretz the office that held the most potential for him, the Finance Ministry. Instead, Peretz got the more prestigious Defense portfolio, which he could not refuse (which he did not wish to do-foolishly, Peretz seemed to covet the Defense job over the Finance one). Olmert was well aware that Peretz, who had risen only to the rank of captain in the army, was not equipped to handle the post. Predictably, Peretz not only failed in his role, he also presided over some of the greatest military humiliations Israel had endured since the 1973 Yom Kippur War: the loss of Gaza to Hamas, and the Second Lebanon War. By June 2007, Ehud Barak was not only back as Defense Minister and leading Labor again. Through machinations and a good deal of luck, Ehud Olmert relegated Labor to the role of a second-grade party and ensured that Kadima would be the party of the Israeli center.

Lebanon

Israel has seen military failures in its day, but never before had it entered into a military confrontation without clearly defined goals and an exit strategy. Yet that is precisely what Israel did in 2006, as its massive retaliation to Hezbollah's initial attack devastated southern Lebanon, killing thousands of civilians, displacing a million Lebanese and leaving the area littered with cluster bombs that continue to injure civilians to this day. The war in turn brought the greatest attacks on Israel since 1948, with the country's northern cities falling under a barrage of rockets, killing dozens of Israelis and displacing nearly half a million.

And it was all for nothing. In the end, the prisoner exchange Hezbollah wanted in July 2006 when it attacked Israel came about, with Israel releasing a notorious terrorist in exchange for the bodies of their two soldiers. Hezbollah emerged, as most informed analysts predicted, much stronger. And now, Hezbollah has apparently re-armed and virtually everyone agrees they are at least as much of a threat to Israel as they were before the war, if not more so.

If only Hezbollah was Olmert's only defeat. To the south, Hamas not only survived the Prime Minister, but did so holding onto one of its biggest bargaining chips: Gila Shalit, a POW seized by Hamas forces during a cross-border raid in June 2006. Olmert's attempts to weaken Hamas both militarily and economically have, as in Lebanon, only strengthened the movement, while helping to weaken Israel's so-called allies, the Fatah-controlled Palestinian Authority, which presently runs the West Bank in conjunction with Israeli forces. Though Olmert could claim Fatah as an ally, it was a pyrrhic victory. Hamas and Hezbollah had still fought Israel to a standstill. And Fatah's willingness to talk to Israel is seriously impacting its popularity.

Israel is in a considerably worse position today than it was when Ehud Olmert first took office. Its standing in the international community was poor at the start of his term, but it is far worse now. Iran and its regional allies are stronger, and Israel has demonstrated unprecedented military weaknesses. That's an awful legacy to leave behind, but given the lack of commitment Israeli leaders have shown in recent years to resorting to negotiated political solutions to the Arab-Israeli conflict, it was inevitable. That it would be Ehud Olmert who epitomized the endgame of this position is his deserved fate.

What Happens Now?

The future of Israel is always difficult to predict, but now it is just impossible. That future will depend as much on the American election as on the Israeli one.

Olmert's resignation was from the leadership of the ruling Kadima party. If their internal elections produce a new leader who can cobble together a government, general elections will not take place until they are normally due.

The two leading Kadima candidates are Foreign Minister Tzipi Livni and Minister of Transportation Shaul Mofaz. Livni is the more popular choice among the general population, while Mofaz appeals more to the right. Livni is seen as the cleanest of Israel's politicians, a major consideration after Olmert's disgrace. But Mofaz has generally escaped involvement in scandals as well and is much more connected to Kadima's inner circle. Livni offers expertise in diplomacy, which would put her in sync with an Obama White House. Mofaz is one of Israel's most experienced military leaders, which will appeal to Israelis concerned about Iran (Mofaz's own Iranian heritage may also help) and would be simpatico with a McCain Administration.

It is likely to come down to whether Kadima voters decide to support the candidate that is more likely to win a general election, Livni, or go for the party insider with the extensive military track record, Mofaz. While general population polls clearly favor Livni, among Kadima voters, the race is much closer.

Shaul Mofaz is not likely to be able to form a government, however, and if he cannot, Likud and Benjamin Netanyahu will be clear victors over a Kadima party led by Mofaz. The Labor Party is much more likely to remain in a government led by Livni than by Mofaz, and that is the key to Livni's greater potential to avoid general elections.

There is a real possibility that the next American government will push for a resolution of the Palestinian issue. The Bush years have produced a backlash and have demonstrated the danger, to Israel as well as to American interests of extreme passivity regarding the Palestinians. Obama may well take that lesson to heart. That doesn't mean they are suddenly going to pressure Israel into major concessions, but it could well mean that the Americans will be active in trying to resolve the conflict through diplomacy and quiet influence on Israel and Fatah. That's an idea Livni might be willing to accept. Mofaz would buck a bit more, but he, too, supports a two-state solution in the abstract.

A Netanyahu victory would be disastrous for Israel, and a tragedy for the greater Middle East. Bibi knows from experience that he is capable of resisting American pressure and, while he would not be likely to openly defy the United States, he learned well the art of foot-dragging and obstacle-building during the Clinton years.

On the Syrian front, the situation is much the same. Netanyahu is the golden boy of the American neoconservatives, and will surely resist peace with Syria. Livni and Mofaz would likely be much more agreeable, though. Both would realize the potential of peace with Syria for reining in Hezbollah and disrupting the Iranian connection to the region. Here again, the willingness of an Obama administration to push for such results will be key, and in both cases, while John McCain might be a bit different from Bush after the disastrous results of the last eight years, he is much less likely to dramatically depart from the Bush agenda.

Eventually, some Israeli Prime Minister is going to face the ultimate choice regarding the West Bank settlements. The Gaza withdrawal notwithstanding, every Prime Minister since Levi Eshkol has -- sometimes happily and loudly, sometimes grumpily and quietly-- supported the expansion of settlements in the West Bank and the continued encroachment of Jewish neighborhoods in East Jerusalem. At some point, this situation will force a choice on Israel: either reverse the settlement program or openly declare the intention to cover the West Bank with them. Despite his stated support for a two-state solution, this was a question Ehud Olmert scrupulously avoided. Perhaps his successor will be able to do so as well, but the time for that decision is coming. That leader will make a choice between continuing the spiral into chaos that has characterized twenty-first century Israel or pulling back and making Israel the state it can be. One can only hope for a leader with more substance than style when that day comes.

Home Alone: but less funnyLately there have been a number of high profile neglect cases in Israel. We’ve learned that many Holocaust survivors live in abject poverty. A woman revered as a spiritual authority was found to have abused and neglected many of her children. And in just the past few weeks, there have been three cases of children neglected in airports: A four-year-old girl was accidentally left in Ben Gurion Airport when her parents failed to keep track of all six of their children en route to Paris. An 8-year-old boy was accidentally flown to Brussels instead of Munich (this appears to be the fault of his El Al escort), and a 12-year-old was sent to the UK by her mother, with no one scheduled to meet her at the airport, and only the address—which turned out to be incorrect—of a family friend. When her mother was found and arrested, she explained that she couldn’t care for her kids and wanted them to find political asylum in the UK. Turns out she’d already sent her 9-year-old to Leeds.

There are plenty of cases of severe neglect reported in America every year (this story comes to mind), but in Israel it seems to be a symptom of the political situation. Israelis walk around all day trying to distract themselves from their own suffering and trauma. It seems to me that as a result of having to push their own personal grief below the surface, they also end up ignoring all kinds of suffering that they see around them, be it the suffering of Palestinians, Holocaust survivors, or even their own children. To a certain degree, we all push those thoughts aside in order to get through the day, but we try to maintain a sense of compassion. In Israel, because it’s nearly impossible to really ignore the suffering, society has developed a sort of flat affect. Neglect happens and everyone acts shocked but quickly moves on, not wanting to dwell on any more pain.

There’s something about the Israeli machismo that appealing, and that makes me proud to be Jewish. But there’s something ugly under that machismo -- a gaping hole where I’d expect to see compassion, and it’s horrifying.

Bidding Adieu: to israel's first "american" prime ministerIsraeli Prime Minister Ehud Olmert has never been known to take the high road. Even when he was starting out, as a young Likud MK, he was known to be fierce, ambitious, and not above a good fight. He won election as Jerusalem's mayor by tarring the beloved Teddy Pollack as too old and out of touch (memo to Barack Obama?). And he became Israel's first accidental prime minister, ascending to power due to a quirk of personal politics and, of course, Ariel Sharon's sudden demise.

But today, he chose the more respectable of the two paths available to him. In the wake of corruption scandals, he had two basic choices: resign only if indicted, or choose not to run in Kadima's September 17 primary. Olmert, a lifelong fighter, might well have chosen the former, but today he took the latter, ending his political career.

Probably, it was a matter of cold calculation. What were the odds he would prevail on September 17, anyway? Even if he did prevail in the primary, would he win a general election as one of Israel's most disliked prime ministers, under a cloud of controversy? Risky bets at best -- and bruising battles. Probably Olmert reviewed the odds, and chose a graceful exit.

Who knows -- if Kadima withers after this election, Olmert might make a comeback someday. Ehud Barak was widely despised also, and now -- thanks to his own deft maneuvering -- he could be prime minister again himself. And only Olmert knows the whole truth about the scandals. Maybe by stepping down in this way, he can cut himself a deal -- or at least avoid being indicted while in office.

In many ways, Olmert is/was Israel's first "American" Prime Minister. Not just because he allegedly took bribes from a smarmy American Jewish political operative, but because he worked his way up through the system by wheeling and dealing, finding pressure points and exploiting them. Olmert was (Bill) Clintonesque in his moves to the Israeli center, (W.) Bushesque in his ability to say one thing and do another, and, perhaps most importantly, the first Israeli prime minister clearly beholden to big money.

As mayor, Olmert never met a development plan he didn't like, and Jerusalem bears the scars of his administration to this day. As prime minister, Olmert may or may not have been corrupt, but the wealth gap in Israel has grown during his time in office, Israeli politics now seem as cynical as American politics, and there is no Israeli Barack Obama on the political horizon.

All of this reflects Israel as a whole. Israel is more American now than at any time in its history, for better and for worse. For worse, Israel is a land of strip malls and superhighways. For better, it is competing favorably in an international economy, and has attracted significant investment. If America ever kicks its oil addiction, Israel is primed to become the sole economic superpower of the Middle East.

So, in a way, Olmert was exactly the prime minister Israel deserved at this point in its history: lacking the heroic stature of his predecessors, a bit mediocre, but at home in the marketplace and the cultural world of the American empire.

And like Israel, Olmert was dealt a tough hand. He was stuck with an unwinnable peace process, lousy coalition partners, and a series of no-win situations (like the recent exchange of live Palestinian terrorist prisoners for dead Israeli soldiers). His military judgment was tested early, and he failed. And of course, he was an apparatchik in the wake of a juggernaut.

For some reason, I always liked the guy. I don't know if he took those cash envelopes, or what was promised in exchange, but I'm sure many politicians have done that before. I don't think of myself as naive, but somehow I always felt as though Olmert was trying to make the best decisions he could, for the good of Israel. Befitting his less than heroic stature, his fall from grace seems less like the result of a tragic flaw than of a few tough breaks. He just didn't have the moves this time.

David Berman: likes to read David Berman is the front man and only constant member in the (formerly) ever-changing lineup of Silver Jews. On albums, he is loose-lipped and brazen, throwing clichés to the wind and spouting lyrics that are brilliant, simple, and beautiful; Pitchfork Media, bastion of all that is hip, said of him “the things that flash through my mind…if I had discipline and talent, could perhaps be turned into words by David Berman.”

It’s a strange compliment, but, when dealing with Berman, one learns to wade through the sea of compliments…and the sea of weirdness. The New York Times called his debut collection of poetry, Actual Air, “one of the most highly acclaimed debuts for a poet in recent memory.” And his on-and-off sideman, Stephen Malkmus, is one of independent rock’s greatest heroes: once the singer/guitarist for the band Pavement, he’s now a highly-successful solo artist.

When the Times interviewed Berman in 2005, he made a passing reference to a new hobby: reading Torah. Now, he does it every day—partly for other reasons, but partly because the unexpected collusion that his once-arbitrary band name has brought.

This has been a busy year for the Berman and his cohorts. The band and their first Israeli national tour were the subjects of the documentary Silver Jew. And their just-released album, Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea, is the venerable latest entry in a just-as-venerable catalogue. We recently caught up with Berman to discuss touring Israel, the new album, studying Torah, and...show tunes.

How did you decide to record your recent documentary in Israel—was there something about the country, or the time, or something else, that made that tour more videogenic? And how did you wind up touring Israel in the first place? Well Israel was the easternmost point of 45 shows we played in 2006. I had gotten with a booking agent for the first time. We talked about what I would and wouldn’t want to do. He asked me if there was one place out of the ordinary I’d like to play. I didn’t hesitate. At first I wasn’t sure if there were fans there…I found out there were. One Hasid sent a book with his sister thanking me for naming the band Silver Jews. Before he found religion, he found the Silver Jews and wanted to thank me, despite the fact that the he no longer went to concerts or listened to secular music.

When did people start asking about the "Jews" part of your band name? Jews of the “don’t make trouble” variety haven’t been a cultural force for a while. Political correctness was the topic of the day when I came up with the name. Perhaps I thought people would be forced to speak politely about the band. But really, “Jew,” it’s a beautiful word. It looks good too. The J is so unique, the e, so affable, the w, so strong. Despite all the professional show business Jews who changed their names, I’m going to make the name stick out. So if you are counterintuitive and a natural contrarian like I was in 1992, trying to be all conceptual, you might choose such a name.

Are you still studying Torah? I read it everyday but I don’t perform the mitzvot. I am some kind of sub-junior Jew-in-waiting.

What was that like for you when you started—were people instantly like, "oh, a Jewish indie band"? Only people in Britain said the word indie back then. We were duly classified as “lo-fi”. But I since we didn’t play shows, I don’t know what they thought. People would call it a Pavement side project.

Do you go through phases of writing poems and phases of writing songs, or does it all happen together? It’s never at the same time. It’s always the only thing going on. But there are long stretches where I just read.

What about the idiom of country music appeals to you—did you grow up listening to it, or is it just that particular shade of gothic Americana? I like the narrative nature. The stories. The mix of humor and despair. It’s just something I’ve always been fond of. When I was a kid I did like the pop country of that time better than the hard rock music. Here’s an example: “Somebody’s Knocking” by Terri Gibb. If you listen to that you can hear how uncountry country got in 1981. It’s weird that she won country female vocalist of the year on that.

Where did the title—and, I guess, the idea—Lookout Mountain, Lookout Sea come from? It’s a play on words for Lookout Mountain, Tennessee. “Lookout Sea” can obviously be heard as “lookout see.” I had a cornea transplant in January of 2007, and a lot of vision motifs are in the lyrics.

This new album seems like a weird progression in several directions—it's more poppy, if that's not too pretentious to say. But it's also…well, not darker than your previous stuff, but maybe a more finely developed sense of darkness? I see it as more open to the uninitiated. It’s not inward looking, it’s outward looking. And clarity is an aesthetic value on this one. So what you say is right.

There's a lot more call-and-response vocal stuff going on here—and this record finds your entire band from the last album intact. Has songwriting become more of a collaborative effort? What's it like to tell someone else, "Here, sing these lines"? The arranging is collaborative. That part of making music is done pretty fast, if the blueprint is complete enough to work with. Writing the songs with other voices in mind just widens the possible cast of characters. It’s one small step towards show tunes, but I don’t plan on exploring that territory.

Shortly before the beginning of seventh grade, when I entered the public school system for the first time after spending my earliest formative years at Nebraska’s only Jewish day school (student body: 37), my mother came to me with a warning. It wasn’t her intention to scare me, she explained, but she wanted to make sure I was prepared for some of the challenges that lay ahead.

“What challenges?” I asked. “What do you mean?” I wasn’t expecting the schoolwork to give me any trouble, and my grandmother had recently furnished me with several new back-to-school ensembles from the Limited that I was certain could at least partially smooth over my problem of not having any social skills.

My mother paused for a very long time before she spoke. “It’s possible that you may have to face some…anti-Semitism.”

Anti-Semitism. It wasn’t precisely clear to me what a Semite was, but I knew what it meant to be anti one. It meant you hated Jews and wanted them dead.

The existence of such a prejudice was hardly news; the bookshelves in my room groaned under the weight of solemn tales of the Holocaust and the pogroms, stories festooned with grim illustrations of terrified children laden with bundles, peering helplessly through pen and ink fence of barbed wire. My parents had their own stories: anti-Semitism was the reason my immigrant grandmother refused to let her children go swimming with the non-Jewish neighbors, why my father had been beaten up several times a week on his way home from junior high by roaming gangs of feral Gentile children.

But that was years ago.

“I’m not saying it will happen,” she continued, “but I want you to prepare for it if it does.”

As I had not yet learned that my mother’s general pessimism towards the human race was not always based in tangible reality, her warnings filled me with a consuming, atavistic sense of dread. When would the assault come, and in what form? Would I be shunned in the cafeteria or disinvited from birthday parties? Would I be physically attacked: trapped in lockers or forced to gather change from the floor as a gang of Esprit-clad Aryans mocked the parsimoniousness of my race? At the very least, I assumed I would be taunted verbally with cries of “kike” and “yid”; “heebie” and “hook-nose” and “Red Sea pedestrian” and other racial epithets I learned from Monty Python’s The Life of Brian.

“You forgot sheeny,” said my mother.

“I thought that was an Irish person.”

“Nope. You’re a sheeny.”

As time passed, I would hear all those words and more. What my mother didn’t tell me is that they would mostly come from other Jews.

Everywhere, young Jews are eagerly, even gleefully appropriating the traditional iconography and language of anti-Semites faster than you can say “We’re here, we’re queer, get used to it.” We howled with laughter at Borat, at the grotesque puppet in “The Running of the Jew” laying its “filthy Jew-egg” as Sacha Baron Cohen spewed der Sturmer-worthy invective in pidgin Hebrew. We read publications with names like Heeb and Jewcy, and cheerfully throw around terms and stereotypes that would have sent previous generations straight to the local ADL office. Recently, I was watching TV at home when I received a phone call from a co-religionist friend.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m at home, watching The Jewish Americans on PBS.”

“Yeah? What’s happening?”

“Oh, I guess this episode is on Leo Frank. But as far I as can see, the whole thing is mostly about how we’re ugly and everybody hates us.” We dissolved with laughter.

There are a number of possible reasons for this change in attitude. The age we are living in is a peculiar one, equal parts irony and genuine turmoil. Festering internecine and tribal hatreds have once again become a very real part of how the world operates; as a result, political correctness has died an unceremonious death, while multiculturalism is dying a somewhat more tortuous one. At the same time, overt intolerance has become nearly obsolete, to the point that one can perpetuate almost any form of prejudice with the implicit understanding that if the speaker is of a certain social class or education level, he or she cannot possibly be a bigot. On a strictly Jewish level, I think my generation has simply lost patience with our Hebrew school educations, with the constant focus on victimhood and hardship, and the sometimes reactionary politics of the Jewish establishment—with the powerful lobbies and their professional outrage, the shell-shocked parents and grandparents ever at the ready to pick up a phone or file a formal complaint the second a Jewish child is made to sing “Silent Night” or assigned a biology midterm on Yom Kippur (I speak from personal experience here.) There are better things to do with one’s time than to be constantly on guard against closet Nazis. Or maybe after 5000 years of the being on the wrong end of the world’s general shittiness, we’ve just stopped taking it so personally.

But to borrow a phrase from David Mamet in The Wicked Son, his provocative and occasionally infuriating book on the subject, “The world hates the Jews. The world has always and will continue to do so.”

Fine.

In this, my mother was right. All of our mothers were right. My generation, we American Jews in our 20’s and 30’s, may have missed having taunts and dirt clods thrown at our heads as we waited for the school bus, but you don’t have to look very far to find our people held in general contempt. In fact, don’t look hard at all—just look in the comments section of any major internet blog that so much as mentions the State of Israel, the Holocaust, Steven Spielberg, or boiled chicken.

So welcome to The Protocols, named of course for the famous (and forged) Protocols of the Elders of Zion, or as I like to think of it, the book that started the international craze, the Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone of twentieth century anti-Semitism. Here, I’ll strive to answer the important questions—not so much “Why do they hate us?” but “So what if they hate us?” I’ll look at how Jews have, for better and for worse, internalized the tenets of anti-Semitism and turned them inside out, how Jews judge other Jews, and what it means to be a self-hating Jew (as opposed to a Jewish self-hater.) I’ll examine anti-Semites through history, anti-Semites in the news, and once every few weeks or so, anti-Semites we love. (And yes, I’m taking recommendations.)

My qualifications for this mighty task, taken on by everyone from Moses Maimonides, Mark Twain, Jean-Paul Sartre, and Adolf Hitler? None whatsoever; except I’ma writer, I’m a Jew, and I’ve spent a disproportionate amount of my life worrying about who doesn’t like me.

So, my fellow filthy Christ-killers, if you can stop counting your golden ingots and draining your neighbor’s kids of their blood long enough to actually read something, I hope you’ll join me. We may not win any hearts and minds, but in the words of the immortal G.I. Joe, knowing is half the battle.

And after all, we’re supposed to be so smart.