This is the story of two men, one from Beirut and one from Tel Aviv, who met less than four months ago and formed an instant friendship. They believed that the things they had in common were far more significant than politics - until the twisted reality of the Middle East interfered with that conviction.


Amir Ben-David, editor of Time Out Tel Aviv.



Ramsay Short, editor of Time Out Beirut.



This is the July 20 cover of Time Out Tel Aviv, published one week after the current conflict began. It is based on a famous 1970's New Yorker cover, A View of New York from Ninth Avenue. But whereas the world beyond New York's Hudson River is portrayed as a quiet, peaceful place, the world beyond Tel Aviv's Yarkon River is one of turmoil and violence. To the right are Baghdad and Tehran; on the left are Haifa, Tiberias, Carmiel, Acre and Kiryat Shmona - areas that have been under constant bombardment since July 12. The cluster of buildings at the top is Beirut.

As Amir Ben-David explained, the three brown boulders bridging the body of water that separates Tel Aviv from "the rest of the world" illustrate that, for all our ironic references to living in a bubble, it is impossible to ignore what is going on around us. We are all connected and the country is very small - we all have friends or family who live up north (just an hour or two away by car), or we know people who have fled the bombardment and become refugees, or we have relatives who are being called up for emergency army reserve service. We are all glued to the television and internet, constantly looking for news updates. 'And we are all worried.


This is the cover of the July issue of Time Out Beirut. It is all about Lebanon's summer festivals, like the renowned Baalbeck Festival. They've been cancelled, for obvious reasons. Publication of Time Out Beirut has also been suspended; Ramsay is still in Beirut, but half his staff has fled. And anyway, a magazine about entertainment would seem rather inappropriate just now, even though there are still some Beirutis who are managing to continue living in their own bubble.

The main story in the July 20 issue of Time Out Tel Aviv is about the connection between Ramsay and Amir - how they met and became friends, and how their relationship was affected by the fighting that broke out between their countries on July 12. The article opens with Amir's explanatory introduction, which I translated below:

Ramsay and I

By Amir Ben-David

We met in May at a world conference for editors and publishers of Time Out that was held, so symbolically, in Cyprus - the island that overlooks Lebanon and Israel from a safe spot in the heart of the Mediterranean.

The click between us was instant. Perhaps it was due to the Levantine temperament, the similar spark in the eyes. Very quickly it became apparent to all the participants at the conference that the people of Time Out Tel Aviv and the people of Time Out Beirut got along extremely well: during meals, during trips, with a frozen glass of vodka on the beach.

Ramsay Short, the editor of Time Out Beirut – the first edition was published just a few days before the conference – proved to be relaxed, friendly, and easygoing. The guy who wrote The Hedonist’s Guide to Beirut and enjoys being a DJ of electro music in bars during his spare time would have fit easily into Tel Aviv.

Now he is hiding in his house near the Beirut port, terrified of the Israeli bombs. You will be able to read about his depressing experiences and his even more depressing conclusions in this article. His words are full of rage, unfiltered and uncensored. It is not easy for an Israeli to read them. Even someone who supports “Israel’s strong response” to Hizbollah’s provocation should ask himself if hurting hundreds of thousands of Lebanese citizens and pursuers of peace like Ramsay Short and making them into sworn haters of Israel is the right thing to do under these circumstances.

In Cyprus in May we all expressed the belief that the past belongs to violent fundamentalists and the future belongs to us: Israelis and Lebanese who want peace and prosperity. Together with the publishers of Time out Beirut – Nehameh Abu and his wife, Naomi Sargent – we solved all the problems of the region in five minutes and turned to thinking about the coming years. When we parted at the airport in Nicosia we agreed that as soon as we returned home we would start to plan together a Time Out Festival of Mediterranean Culture: Three days of music, films, dance and theatre from Lebanon, Israel, Cyprus and Turkey.

On Monday afternoon I received an email from Naomi. Nehameh was in London. She and the children were relatively protected, in a Christian village outside Beirut that was not supposed to be a target of the Israeli Air Force. In the morning she was forced to go to the office in order to take care of some urgent work matters. A bomb fell close to her. She ran outside and got into her car in order to return to the village, and then another bomb landed right near her. “Civilians are being killed here,” she writes, “And this must be stopped.”

The Time Out Festival of Mediterranean Culture will be held some other time.

The rest of the article is a Hebrew tranlsation of excerpts taken from Ramsay's blog, Beirut Live, in which he chronicles his thoughts and experiences together with two other contributors. It is not, as Amir points out, an easy blog for Israelis to read. It is full of rage, accusations against Israel that are often false, paranoid or unjust. I could not bring myself to read all the entries, partly because I have read or heard it all before in different forums and I didn't see any reason to subject myself to the same litany once again.

I try very hard not to attach too much significance to what I call "the rants," just as I try not to judge the residents of northern Israel who, after nearly three weeks of cowering in filthy, steaming public bomb shelters, are expressing unfiltered rage and despair to the media. People say terrible things, sometimes, when they are under emotional stress. Sometimes you just have to step back and let the bile flow, until it dries up of its own accord and reason re-asserts itself.

I know I'm lucky to be in Tel Aviv, lucky that my life remains intact. My own despair is more of the existential angst variety - watching as the tourists empty out of Tel Aviv just as we were experiencing our first "normal" summer since the intifada began in 2000, worrying about friends who are called up to the army, worrying about the future of this country.... (sigh). Well, that's all for another post.

I called Amir Ben-David the day I read the article. Those of you who have been reading this blog for a while will understand why I identified so strongly with him. At the time, I was planning to help put together an article about this story for a newspaper, but publication has been delayed indefinitely. So instead, I get to be self-indulgent and ramble on as much as I please in this forum. Tant mieux.

Amir grew up in nothern Israel. He has family in areas that are under bombardment and relatives who have been called up for emergency combat duty. "The way I see it," he said, "I have friends in the north and I have friends further north, in Beirut. Ramsay is not just someone I met on the internet. He is someone I know personally and I see him as a real friend." Then he continued, "When Ramsay and I met in Cyprus, we connected in two seconds.  We talked only about peace and a hopeful future, about all the things our countries had in common. Ramsay's hatred toward Israel has become very personal for me. I do not see the Lebanese as my enemy, and it hurts to know that my country's army is hurting them."

Amir stresses that he believes an Israeli military response to the Hezbollah attack was justified. "I am not a pacifist or naïve," he said. " I know what neighbourhood we live in. But still, it is possible to question the way we have reacted, and what we have done to the Lebanese people."

There is also a pragmatic consideration: Is it wise to make the entire Lebanese nation - not just Hezbollah and its supporters - into our enemy?

"There is a saying in Israel - 'when the missiles fall, the debate stops.' So when will it be the right time to talk? When it's too late? When the damage is already done?"

Ehud Barak was elected prime minister in 2000 largely on his promise to withdraw the IDF from southern Lebanon after an 18 year occupation. For many Israelis, Lebanon was our Vietnam. Those who were against the withdrawal based their opposition on the belief that, without an Israeli military presence in southern Lebanon, Hezbollah would be free to build itself up militarily to the point of posing a threat to Israel's security. The response of Barak and those who supported the withdrawal was to promise that if Hezbollah did attack, Israel would respond with full military force.

That is why there is a wide Israeli consensus in support of the current IDF operations in Lebanon, even amongst most of the prominent supporters of the centre-left position - despite their great discomfort with the reports of the civilian deaths and destruction of infrastructure. There is a sense that Israel simply had no choice. Amir wonders if we are failing to ask the right questions, and I think that is fair enough. Israelis are proud of their strong democracy and of their ability to engage in self-examination; I don't see any contradiction between loving and supporting one's country and maintaining one's ability to ask difficult questions even during a time of crisis. Quite the contrary, in fact. Especially after what happened yesterday in Qana.

Ramsay and Amir have been interviewed by Time Out New York (Ramsay's interview is here, Amir's is here) and written about in Time Out Chicago, here, where their very powerful email exchange is reproduced.

They are still in contact via email. During the first couple of days of the Israeli bombardment, their friendship was little affected. But now it has become very strained  - as Amir describes, with great sorrow, in a follow up article for this week's edition of Time Out Tel Aviv. I'll write more about that in my next post.

Physically, the conflict up north has not yet touched Tel Aviv.  But Haifa is only one hour's drive away and everyone knows someone who lives up north, or who was called up for army reserve service, or who has fled from the rocket bombardment and sought refuge in the centre and the south of the country. We talk endlessly about "the war that has no name," and the atmosphere here is pensive, worried and quiet.

For some reason, the guys I recorded playing music on Rothschild Boulevard on Saturday night seemed, to me, to capture the local mood. This is the first time I used the video option on my camera and the recording came out at 128 mb. If anyone knows how to give simple instructions to the technically challenged on how to compress recordings for uploading, please send me an email. I'd really like to start posting short interviews once a week, but it ain't gonna work if something this short takes a couple of hours to upload. ;)

There's a long post on the way; meanwhile, click on the picture to watch and listen.

From page 10 of this week's Time Out Tel Aviv:


"I just got into the Guinness Book of World Records for holding the biggest number of hostages ever: The entire nation of Lebanon!"

Via Harry, I discovered an Arab-Israeli indie rock group called Khalas ("enough" in Arabic). The group is currently "doing its bit" by performing for Druze and Arab audiences up north; half the population of the Galilee, which is currently under Hezbollah bombardment, is Arab or Druze. So far, five Arab Israelis have been killed by Hezbollah missiles - including three children.

According to the Ynet article Harry cites, one of the songs from the group's latest album, ‘The King Is Naked’ is a protest against the Arab leaders who do not listen to their people.

Says group member Bassam Beromi, "This song is relevant today, because Nasrallah is a naked king who is dragging an entire nation into war, and the ones who pay the price are innocent civilians. Nasrallah is not using his head. He is an Arab and so am I, but I cannot identify with someone who hits my city. On the other hand, it pains me that people are being killed on both sides.”

Listen to an mp3 of 'Biladi' here.

Note: The story I promised in my previous post is delayed for another day or two - proprietorial reasons. ;)

The taxi driver who drove me to the studio where I was interviewed for Canada AM * had the radio tuned to a satire show. In an exaggerated Tel Aviv clubbers' drawl, participants were issuing mock instructions to the city's residents in case the hundreds of missiles currently landing daily all over the north of the country reach the centre, as Nasrallah keeps promising. "If you're told to take shelter, that means immediately. Do not stop for an espresso at Aroma or an almond croissant at Arcaffe. Immediately." Or, "In case of an attack, you must prepare yourselves for the worst possible scenario - the cancellation of the Depeche Mode concert." And, "If a missile falls on your neighbour's car, run fast and maybe you'll get his parking spot." Mwahaha.

We do have a tendency to make dark jokes and satire when we're under stress. Just before the coalition forces invaded Iraq in 2003, when there were concerns that chemical warheads might be launched by Saddam Hussein at Israel, I heard a couple of gas chamber jokes (all these Jews gathered in one place). And yes, we are under stress. Basically, we don't really expect to be attacked - but then again, you never know. We never thought that Haifa would be attacked, either - until it happened. On the one hand I've noticed that strangers are gentler with one another in face-to-face interactions, but on the other hand the drivers are even more maniacal and aggressive than ever: today I saw two drivers executing death-defying U-turns on North Dizengoff during peak rush hour traffic, and there seems to be a lot more overtaking and honking than usual.

This morning a couple of Chinese reporters interviewed me for a pre-recorded radio show at my local cafe. Our waiter, Ido, is a gentle, perpetually smiling, slightly clumsy guy in his mid-twenties who wears his wild, curly hair pulled away from his face with a headband and shuffles around in sagging jeans and Birkenstocks. At one point he told me that he'd just received an emergency call-up notice for army reserve duty; when I translated this into English for the Chinese reporters, one of them looked at Ido with an amazed, "does not compute" look and said to me, "But he looks so normal! He's going to put on a uniform and...kill?" I really balked at that word, I must confess. Hmm, I thought, welcome to my world of cognitive dissonance.

So, as part of my ongoing mission to conquer the international media, I was interviewed for three radio shows, one television show and three newspaper articles today. Since this is unpaid work, I'm thinking I  should apply to the Zionist cabal for some kind of a retainer.

And now, since it is, um, 4.00 a.m. (cripes! how did it get so late?) and I have to get up early in the morning, I'll save the rest for later.

Just one last thing, though: Quite a few very thoughtful people have taken the time to write me some absolutely beautiful, warm and generous emails. I haven't had time to respond to most of them yet, but I will very soon. Meanwhile, I just want to let you know how much I appreciate your kindness and encouragement.


*I think the link's only good today until about 3.30 p.m. Israel time, 8.30 a.m. Toronto time. UPDATE: Nope, it's still there.

My next post will be about two very hip, urban guys, one from Beirut and one from Tel Aviv, who met last May and formed an instant connection. Now they have to balance their friendship with the exigencies of "the situation." There'll be pictures and all sorts of stuff.

Meanwhile, a few links:

Veronica Kokholva, who covers the Russian and Ukrainian blogosphere for Global Voices, has put together a very touching sampling of posts by Israeli bloggers who are writing about the war in Russian.

My GVO roundup of the Israeli blogosphere is here. There were really too many posts to choose from, so for those of you who might be feeling a tad miffed at being left out - fear not, I'll make it up to you with my next roundup.

Media attention:

The story of the most blogged war has become flavour of the month, with articles about Lebanese and Israeli bloggers popping up all over the place. Weird how bad news gets you so much attention, huh?

Corinne Heller's article for Reuters is here.
Le Monde
La Repubblica
The Guardian news blog here and here (ignore the talkbacks, if you can - most of those people are certifiable).
Sheera Frankel wrote an article for the Jerusalem Post but the link's not working right now, so I'll get back to you on that. UDATE: Here it is.

You can listen to an interview David Levy and I did for Chris Lyddon's Radio Open Source here, following a 15-minute pre-recorded segment with Zeev Schiff.

Gal Beckerman wrote about my Putting things in perspective post for the Columbia Journalism Review site, here.

And, um, I'm going to be on this CNN show called Reliable Sources on Sunday (oops, today) at 10.40 EST. I think it's only broadcast in North America, but I'm not sure. They'll interview me from a studio in Tel Aviv and I'm wondering - is makeup required? I never use the stuff during the hot summer months...

Samir El-Youssef is a Palestinian author and journalist who was born in a refugee camp in Lebanon; today he lives in London. In 2005 he was the recipient of the Swedish PEN Tucholsky Award. His friend Etgar Keret is a bestselling Israeli author, screenwriter, playwright and film director who has won several prestigious awards, including the Prime Minister's Prize.

The two became friends when they met at a literary conference in Europe six years ago; two years later, at the height of the Intifada, Samir contacted Etgar and suggested they publish a collection of short stories together: the result of their collaboration is called Gaza Blues.  A couple of years ago I wrote an article about Etgar; this past May, I had the great pleasure of meeting Samir in London.

This week the two friends wrote letters to one another, in which they reflected upon the current conflict between Israel and Lebanon. They were published today in Corriere Della Sera and appear in English below.


Samir El Youssef

Dear Etgar,

You must be as distressed with what’s happening as I am. Not that we haven’t been there before, and I’m certain that they will take us there again and again. I say ‘they’, not only to define the warring parties who want to make violence and war the only political agenda available, but also to assert that people like you and me, on both sides of the divide, are still committed to the cause of peaceful co-existence. The question is for how long we are going to be able to make such an assertion? You know very well the violence, which has been carried out without discrimination, might increasingly make it hard for us to keep our distance from them.

This morning I phoned a Lebanese friend of mine who is very much for negotiation and peace. Unsurprisingly he was angrier with Hezbollah than Israel. He was particularly upset because Hezbollah has managed to make itself the generator of politics in Lebanon. He was also worried that if it managed to come out of this confrontation undamaged it will play a role in the politics of the region dangerous enough to perpetuate the state of violence and war. But just as I was about to tell him that I share him his anger and worry I heard him saying with an undeniable admiration: “But it is remarkable the way Hezbollah has been able to hit back at the Israelis!”

The inconsistent attitude of my friend was too stark to be overlooked. How, I asked myself, could some one who’s against war, against Hezbollah be so impressed by their violent performance? But the fact of the matter is that this attitude is neither seldom nor new- I am sure that you must have heard similar views on your side. This desire for revenge, the desire to see the other sided hurt and humiliated has for a long time inflicted even those of us who believe in peaceful co-existence. What’s more, such desire, which allows for indiscriminate violence and collective punishment, is an evidence of the undeniably self-destructive element in the politics of our society, and yet it has made no appropriate claim on our attention. I know that neither of us is very keen on late psychoanalysis, but we must admit that emotions have always determined great deal of our politics and fate. This, I believe, is what we need to confront, with unwavering honesty, when we start talking about peace again. Otherwise no distance can be kept between them and us; total self-destruction will be the order of the day.

I hope I haven’t made you distressed more than you already are.

Keep safe!

Yours,

Samir

Etgar Keret holding his son, Lev ("heart" in Hebrew)

Dear Samir,

It is always a pleasure to hear from you, even though the events of recent days have not been very pleasant. The last time we spoke on the phone I congratulated you on your marriage and you congratulated me on the birth of my first child. Little Lev does not yet know how to talk, but he has already become addicted to the television news broadcasts. Every time they show an explosion on the screen he claps his hands and shouts with happiness. It doesn’t make a difference to him whether it’s a missile that landed on Haifa or a bomb that exploded in the suburbs of Beirut. Of course, he does not like the pictures of the wounded and the dead. Nobody likes them. For now, the media is trying to show them as little as possible. Just sequences of sterile explosions. Fireworks over urban skies, with the sole job of amusing babies.

Yesterday a young taxi driver drove me to my parents’ house. At first he tried to insist that I strap my son into a car seat. “That’s the safest way,” he tried to convince me. “The safest way is to move to Switzerland,” I told him. He laughed and let me ride with little Lev held in my arms. The driver couldn’t take his eyes off my Lev and he couldn’t turn his ears away from the radio that was reporting in real time and at full volume about the kidnapped soldiers, Nasrallah’s threats and the katyusha rockets that were falling on various locations throughout Israel. “When we were kids,” the driver chuckled, “They always told us that we would probably not be soldiers. That by the time we were old enough to be drafted there wouldn’t be any more wars. But now, with Hamas and Hezbollah and all that shit, you can’t tell him that anymore. “Why?” I protested. “You can always say it.” “Yes,” responded the driver, “But it’s not a nice thing to do, to lie to a child. “But didn’t they lie to us?” I said. Just then, there was a report on the radio about katyusha rockets falling on Tiberias. The announcer reported in a semi-hysterical voice that he had temporarily lost contact with the broadcasting facilities in the city so he couldn’t give further information on the scope of the bombing or the number of wounded. “Tell him that he probably won’t be a soldier,” said the driver, as he smiled at me bitterly in the rearview mirror. “That by the time he’s old enough to be drafted there won’t be a country anymore.”

You wrote in your letter that you hoped you hadn’t caused me any distress. In fact the opposite is true. It is daily life here, with its unending suspicion and hate, which makes me despair and your letters that fill me with more than a little hope. Even though you write about unhappy subjects, you never cease to show me that, even in the most difficult times, a person can look at the situation objectively, without hate and without fear, and give a clear reading of human nature with all its shortcomings. If only it were possible to make your deep insights land on our heads instead of bombs and katyushas; if only it were possible to bombard them into the depths of the consciousness of all the participants in this long and unending conflict. Then we would have had a new Middle East a long time ago.

Yours,

Etgar

                                                                   Sebastian Scheiner/AP

The image above caused a huge storm of outrage in the Arab blogosphere. Huge. You wouldn't believe how huge. The widely-read Gulf-based Palestinian blogger who was the first to post it received so much traffic that he had to move the photo to another server. Many others, including several I know personally, posted it and expressed their disgust. Israeli children taught to hate! Lebanese children are dying and they're happy! They're no better than... (fill in the blank, I don't want to go there).

Below is the story behind the photo - from the source.

I phoned Sebastian Scheiner, the Israeli photojournalist who took the photo for Associated Press (AP), explained that the image had given a really terrible impression and asked for the context. He sketched it out quickly and fluidly, but asked me not to quote him. So I spoke with Shelly Paz, a Yedioth Ahronoth reporter who was also at the scene and agreed immediately to go on record. She was quite shocked to learn how badly the photo had been misinterpreted and misrepresented; and she told me the same story Sebastian did, but with more details and nuance.

The little girls shown drawing with felt markers on the tank missiles are residents of Kiryat Shmona, which is right on the border with Lebanon. And when I say "on the border," I'm not kidding; there's little more space between their town and Southern Lebanon than there is between the back gardens of neighbouring houses in a wealthy American suburb.

No, how close is it really?

Well, there's a famous story in Israel, from the time when the Israeli army occupied Southern Lebanon: a group of soldiers stationed inside southern Lebanon used their mobile phones to order pizza from Kiryat Shmona and have it delivered to the fence that separates the two countries.

Anyway.

Kiryat Shmona has been under constant bombardment from South Lebanon since the first day of the conflict. It was a ghost town, explained Shelly. There was not a single person on the streets and all the businesses were closed. The residents who had friends, family or money for alternate housing out of missile range had left, leaving behind the few who had neither the funds nor connections that would allow them to escape the missiles crashing and booming on their town day and night. The noise was terrifying, people were dying outside, the kids were scared out of their minds and they had been told over and over that some man named Nasrallah was responsible for their having to cower underground for days on end.

On the day that photo was taken, the girls had emerged from the underground bomb shelters for the first time in five days. A new army unit had just arrived in the town and was preparing to shell the area across the border. The unit attracted the attention of twelve photojournalists - Israeli and foreign. The girls and their families gathered around to check out the big attraction in the small town - foreigners. They were relieved and probably a little giddy at being outside in the fresh air for the first time in days. They were probably happy to talk to people. And they enjoyed the attention of the photographers.

Apparently one or some of the parents wrote messages in Hebrew and English on the tank shells to Nasrallah. "To Nasrallah with love," they wrote to the man whose name was for them a devilish image on television - the man who mockingly told Israelis, via speeches that were broadcast on Al Manar and Israeli television, that Hezbollah was preparing to launch even more missiles at them. That he was happy they were suffering.

The photograpers gathered around. Twelve of them. Do you know how many that is? It's a lot. And they were all simultaneously leaning in with their long camera lenses, clicking the shutter over and over. The parents handed the markers to the kids and they drew little Israeli flags on the shells. Photographers look for striking images, and what is more striking than pretty, innocent little girls contrasted with the ugliness of war? The camera shutters clicked away, and I guess those kids must have felt like stars, especially since the diversion came after they'd been alternately bored and terrified as they waited out the shelling in their bomb shelters.

Shelly emphasized several times that none of the parents or children had expressed any hatred toward the Lebanese people. No-one expressed any satisfaction at knowing that Lebanese were dying - just as Israelis are dying. Their messages were directed at Nasrallah. None of those people was detached or wise enough to think: "Hang on, tank shell equals death of human beings." They were thinking, tank shell equals stopping the missiles that land on my house. Tank shells will stop that man with the turban from threatening to kill us.

And besides, none of those children had seen images of dead people - either Israeli or Lebanese. Israeli television doesn't broadcast them, nor do the newspapers print them. Even when there were suicide bombings in Israel several times a week for months, none of the Israeli media published gory photos of dead or wounded people. It's a red line in Israel. Do not show dead, bleeding, torn up bodies because the families of the dead will suffer and children will have nightmares. And because it is just in bad taste to use suffering for propaganda purposes.

Those kids had seen news footage of destroyed buildings and infrastructure, but not of the human toll. They had heard over and over that the air force was destroying the buildings that belonged to Hezbollah, the organization responsible for shelling their town and threatening their lives. How many small children would be able to make the connection between tank shells and dead people on their own? How many human beings are able to detach from their own suffering and emotional stress and think about that of the other side? Not many, I suspect.

So, perhaps the parents were not wise when they encouraged their children to doodle on the tank shells. They were letting off a little steam after being cooped up - afraid, angry and isolated - for days. Sometimes people do silly things when they are under emotional stress. Especially when they fail to understand how their childish, empty gesture might be interpreted.

I've been thinking for the last two days about this photo and the storm of reaction it set off.  I worry about the climate of hate that would lead people to look at it and automatically assume the absolute worst - and then use the photo to dehumanize and victimize. I wonder why so many people seem to take satisfaction in believing that little Israeli girls with felt markers in their hands - not weapons, but felt markers -  are evil, or spawned by an evil society. I wonder how those people would feel if Israelis were to look at a photo of a Palestinian child wearing a mock suicide belt in a Hamas demonstration and conclude that all Palestinians - nay, all Arabs - are evil.

And I wonder why it is so difficult to think a little, to get it into our heads that television news and photojournalism manipulate our thoughts and emotions.

Links to anti-Israel websites with that photo placed prominently next to the image of a dead Lebanese child have been sent to me several times. Someone has been rushing around the Israeli blogosphere, leaving the link to one particularly abhorrent site in the comments boxes. And it makes me really sad that the emotional climate has deteriorated to this point.

The moderates of the Middle East are locked in a battle with the extremists. And look what they did to the moderates. Without blinking, without thinking, we fell victim to the classic "divide and conquer"  technique. We work hard for months and years to build connections, develop our societies, educate ourselves, promote democracy and free speech... And they destroy it all, in less than a week. And we let them.

(Comments are now closed)

It looks as though the Israel-Lebanon are-we-calling-it-a-war-yet of 2006 is the first conflict to be blogged from day one. Bloggers from both sides of the border - some of whom were already aware of one another before this tragedy began - have been providing live updates, commenting on one another's blogs and sometimes linking to posts by bloggers on the other side of the border. Will this turn out to be the first time that residents of "enemy" countries engaged in an ongoing conversation while missiles were falling?

Haaretz published an article about the online conversation between Lebanese and Israelis here (Hebrew). It links to the blog of Ami (scroll down for English), who is hosting an ongoing thread of talkbacks by Israelis and Lebanse, and to the Lebanese bloggers forum where the same phenomenon is taking place.  There are currently 383 comments in response to this post on the Lebanese bloggers forum, including the following from an Israeli guy named Shachar:

Hey.
I'm an IDF soldier stationed at the Lebanon is border, but got back home for a funeral of someone I knew.

We can't see all the bombing on Lebanon here from Israel (naturaly we're focusing on bombs at Israel), so you're pretty much updating me on what's going on.

I don't want to start arguing about who's right and who's wrong, the finaly word is that it's not right that civilians get hurt in the process, from both sides.

I'm sending you my best wishes from here, and hope that you and your family will be strong and be alright until this horrible situation will be over.

Shachar.

Chez moi, a Lebanese commenter wrote, in response to my March of Folly  post:

Hi,
I think I must first mention that i am lebanese, and second that I really appreciate the fact that there are reasonable people on both sides of the border. I have been checking lebanese blogs for the past few days and was frustrated that most of the comments from Israelis were extremely unsympathetic to the plight of the lebanese civilian. We were dubbed as human shields to terrorists, and justifications were given to every civilian death in lebanon. I was appalled.
I can rest a little easier in this difficult time, because I have found reasonable voices in Israel. By the way, I am having a hard time quitting smoking, with this shit going on too.
R

And there is an article about the Lebanon-Israel blogging phenomenon on the Times Online, here.

The internet has also been offering some surreal experiences, like the ability to have a Beirut-Tel Aviv online IM chat in real time while the missiles are falling. That's what happened to me and this blogger a few nights ago. We chatted while he was sitting on the roof of his apartment building in Beirut, watching missiles from Israeli planes fall on his city and describing it to me. He was carrying on an online conversation with another Israeli at the same time. And he was able to describe his feelings and the atmosphere in a human, personal way that no newspaper article or television news segment could achieve.

Meanwhile, in a moment of supreme weirdness, someone on a pro-Hezbollah chatboard called, with striking originality, Shi'a Chat, has linked to my post about Zvi Yehezkeli on Al Manar television.

One of the prevalent themes on many of these blogs is a sense of powerlessness and great sadness. Of wondering how our countries got dragged into this conflict.

There is plenty of the blame game, too, of course. And I guess that attitudes will continue to harden as this conflict continues - which it seems set to do. As I mentioned in my last post, a lot of Lebanese bloggers have become very angry at Israel, to the point of rejecting personal contact. But this is not the case for all - not by any means.

What does this mean? I'm not sure.  I'm too sad and overtired to think about it right now, to be honest. But I know this is significant. I do think about the fact that many of these bloggers are from their respective countries' educated, liberal elite and I am sure that amongst them are some future leaders. When this latest round of pointless death and destruction ends, when the anger dissipates, perhaps they will remember the personal connections with their "enemy." Think about what it means, if the next generation of Lebanese and Israeli politicians and business leaders have intimate and personal knowledge of the others' humanity. They won't forget that, even while there was a war going on, they were able to talk to one another and express their feelings. It's not so easy to kill someone you know. It's possible to contemplate embarking on a joint development project or business endeavour with someone from the other side - if you know him or her as a human being, not simply "the former enemy."

There was an anti-war demonstration in Tel Aviv on Sunday evening. Jill and I went to check it out - out of pure, journalistic curiosity. The truth is, we didn't expect anyone to show up. We thought it unlikely that there would be a peaceful anti-war (and hate free) demonstration on the day that around 100 missiles fell on our country, nine people were killed, somewhere between 20 and 30 injured (I've lost count, to be honest) and Satan Hassan Nasrallah promised more missiles - bigger! stronger! faster! and longer range too! - in the coming days. You want war? the turbaned one asked rhetorically in today's speech, broadcast live on Al Manar. No problem - war it is.

The thing is, Hassan (may I call you Hassan? I see you so often on television, I feel that I know you) - No. We do not want war. God, we are so sick of war. Has it really been only five days since this nightmare began? It feels like a month.

So.

When Jill called to ask me whether I was going to the demo, as we'd tenatively planned earlier in the day, I hesitated. Surely nobody would show up. And I had so much work to do - people to interview, notes to write up, phone calls to make, articles to translate. I haven't slept much lately, either. Oh come on, said Jill. If nobody is there we'll take a few photos of the empty space and blog about it. Yalla, I thought. I could use a break from the computer. I'll go.

And lo, there were people there. Many people, in fact. Okay, so they were mostly from the so-called far left: Gush Shalom, Hadash, Yesh Gvul were the most visible, but there were other groups as well. But no, they were not all artsy fartsy bleeding heart liberal Ashkenazim. There were Arabs and Jews, Ashkenazim and Mizrahim, teenagers, young couples with children and old people.






"There is no military solution."


"In war there are only losers."



Okay, some of the signs were a bit inane:



Israel out of Gaza, Beirut and Haifa (Haifa??!!)
And:



"Femnists say yes to negotiations."

And yes, I did see the ultimate ineffectiveness of this demonstration. But
really, it was rather heartwarming. Some sincere, goodhearted people stood up while their country was under siege and got together to say publicly that they hate killing, but they don't hate the people who live in the country from which missiles are launched at them. Okay, there was the nutter who wore a T-shirt with a picture of Stalin on it (!), but otherwise...normal people.

Jill and I walked alongside and listened as they walked up Chen Boulevard and chanted:

Oh, and check it out: The Israel-Lebanon Crisis of 2006 has its own Wikipedia entry.

I took this photo just a few minutes ago, of Israel Channel 10's news coverage of our little war. It shows Zvi Yehezkeli, who covers Arab affairs and has been giving excellent summaries of the Arab media (Noorster and I have a huge crush on him). Al Manar TV, Hezbollah television, is showing Zvi live while he is in the Tel Aviv studio. They are broadcasting our broadcast in real time, from Beirut, translating from Hebrew into Arabic what Zvi is saying, and responding in real time. "We can see you!" said the Al Manar moderator, mockingly, as he smiled into the camera.

Zvi is listening to the whole thing via his earphone, and he even posed a question in Arabic.

This is just one example of how mad and complex this conflict is: We watch each other's television broadcasts, we talk to one another, and then...we bomb each other.

This morning a friend of mine called from Gaza. He's not a journalist, not a politician - just an ordinary Palestinian guy in his twenties. He lives down the street from the offices of Hamas's Ministry of the Interior in Gaza, which was bombed a few days ago by an Israeli fighter plane. He has about two hours of electricity a day in his house and about as much running water. But he called me to ask if I was okay, after he saw on Al Jazeera television that Nasrallah was threatening to bomb Tel Aviv. "I'm worried about you," he said.

And late, late last night I chatted via Instant Message with this Lebanese blogger, while he sat on the roof of his apartment building and watched Israeli fighter planes bomb Beirut.

More soon.

I need a little time to write about my trip to Haifa, which was a fascinating day with many unexpected conversations. While I write about it, I've posted my translation of an article I read on an Israeli portal called Nana ("mint").  It is long, but I think it is very interesting and well worth reading. I hope that Lebanese readers, in particular, will take note that some of the most thoughtful and interesting Israeli voices are not translated into English and that there is a far wider range of opinion in this country than you might know. The link to the Hebrew article is here. Hebrew speakers, please let me know if I made any errors in the translation.

Saying no to a second war of failure
 

Despite the Lebanese government’s attempts to distance itself from Hezbollah’s attacks, the IDF has decided to turn it into a scapegoat. Heaven forbid they should attack those who are really guilty

July 13, 2006

By Yossi Gurvitz

 
Starting from yesterday, every Israeli official blamed the Lebanese government for the Hezbollah attack on Israel, which resulted in the kidnapping of two soldiers and the killing of three. In a particularly hypocritical fashion, spokesman after spokesman protested the violation of Israeli sovereignty - as if the Israeli Air Force had not violated Lebanese air space time after time with flyovers. And in order to make it clear that those were not just words, the IDF attacked Lebanon’s power stations, its airport and Lebanese Air Force bases.

Spokesman after spokesman blamed the Lebanese government for violating UN Security Council resolution 1559, which calls for the dismantling of Hezbollah. But they elegantly ignored the fact that Israel has failed to abide by a whole string of UN resolutions - primarily 242 and 338, which call for withdrawal from the territories that were conquered in 1967.

But this time we’re not talking merely of a victorious propaganda war. This time, the IDF is endangering not just the lives of its soldiers and the citizens of Israel with its operations. It is also significantly endangering peace in the entire Middle East.

The Cedar Revolution

When Syrian agents assassinated the former Lebanese prime minister, Rafik Hariri, they probably thought it was just another assassination. After all, Syrian agents had already assassinated more than 15 senior Lebanese officials. But that assassination blew up in their faces: A national movement of rage was ignited in Lebanon, forcing the Syrian regime to withdraw from Lebanon.

The Cedar Revolution threatened to shake Bashir Assad’s throne as well. Whilst his father was devious, strong and cruel, Bashir inherited only his cruelty. With incredible stupidity, he started to blow up anti-Syrian journalists throughout Lebanon. It didn’t help: The Lebanese elected a democratic and independent government, and even though Syria’s collaborators in Lebanon – the Hezbollah – succeeded in getting a couple of representatives elected, the government is without a shadow of a doubt anti-Syrian.

This had a direct effect on Syria: Bashir Assad’s throne began to shake. Last week, Syria was forced to announce that it had arrested about 300 anti-regime intellectuals who had dared to hold a public demonstration in front of the presidential palace. That would have never happened to Papa Assad.

And Lebanese democracy, which would not have come into existence if not for the American forces on the border with Iraq, as the leader of the Lebanese Druze testified, radiates throughout the region. It is difficult to overestimate the importance of the first Arab democracy. In Egypt, the opposition is lifting its head; in Jordan, reforms are taking place; Saudi Arabia was forced to hold elections – limited, local and only for men, but elections nonetheless; the “parliament of poodles” in Kuwait woke up, started to snap its teeth and women finally won the right to vote.

We love to criticize Al Jazeera, and with good reason. It doesn’t exactly employ a lot of Israel lovers. But it does not only broadcast photos of the massacres we have committed, or the decapitation of prisoners in Iraq. It also broadcast directly from the Lebanese revolution. And those images were broadcast to every home in the Middle East, showing that there was another way.

The war of cultures

We are accustomed to thinking of ourselves as a people who live apart, and do not consider themselves one of the nations; that was never really true, and it is certainly not true today. It’s time to extract our national head from our armpit and stop looking at the world in terms of “the Jews against the goyim,” to stop looking at history as “the history of the Jews” versus “general history” and look at what’s happening around us. Over the past 30 years, the Muslim world has been torn by civil war. The failure of the secular Arab governments and humiliation in the face of the Western world, have led to the radicalization of Islam.   That radicalization began previously – the Muslim Brotherhood was founded in the 1920’s – but it reached its peak in recent years.

The moderates of the Muslim world are defending themselves desperately. The extremists face no difficulty in slaughtering them. But if the free world has any kind of hope, it is not to be found in actions like the invasion of Iraq, but in the victory of Western values - in the victory of democracy over tyranny, free thought over religious intolerance, nationality over ethnic identity, the individual over the tribe.

The fragile Lebanese democracy represents all of these values, and it is converting – slowly, it is true, and with difficulty – followers from the Muslim street. Hezbollah’s operation – the long arm of Tehran and Damascus – was directed against Lebanon no less than it was directed against Israel. Arab democracy, an alternative to Islam, frightens the Islamists more than Israeli democracy.

Bombing Damascus

On the day that the Lebanon War [the IDF invasion of 1982] broke out, two important articles were published. The first, in Haaretz newspaper, clearly underlined the true target of that war: The conquest of Lebanon and the installation of a puppet Christian president. The article cried out for public opposition to that goal. The second was published in Yedioth Ahronoth, with the headline: “Quiet, we’re shooting!” Yedioth won, because strong words will always drown out thought when the blood is boiling.

The army, with lies and deceptive maps, as the head of the northern command Amram Mitzna testified at Ariel Sharon’s trial, dragged the government into a war that was wider than planned. It knew that the public, drunk with cries for revenge, would not stand in its way.

Today the army, crazed with humiliation and rage, is dragging us into a second Lebanon War. The butting bull is not bothering to check whether the china dishes will break as a result of its wild behaviour. It knows that there is no government which will stand up to its bellowing for revenge. But if we do not wish to be part of a culture war, and we do not want once again to be stuck in the mud of Lebanon, we need to rein in the destructive animal.

Israel’s answer should be simple: an ultimatum to the Lebanese government to return unhurt all the Israeli prisoners, within one week. At the same time, we should demand that Nasrallah be arrested and put on trial at the International Court of Justice at The Hague, because the shelling of civilian areas is certainly a war crime.   If Israeli pressure is joined by international pressure, it will strengthen the Lebanese government and help it to dismantle the Hezbollah – and the dismantling of the Hezbollah is a UN demand.

At the same time, Israeli Air Force planes should reduce to dust the palace of the tyrant in Damascus, and bomb its army from the air. That way Israel will destroy the real target – while simultaneously helping to liberate Lebanon.  That message – that a murderous Arab tyranny is collapsing because it tried to undermine its two democratic neighbours – will provide great encouragement to the Arab street.

That is the path we could have taken, if we had only stopped to think. But no: We let the blood blind our eyes and our thoughts, we listened to the army’s promises, and we let it do its job. And even if something exceptional occurs, it will become clear that when we let the army do its job, it manages to undermine both Israel and its residents.

Tune in later (much later) today for a report with photos.

The limitations of time make it nearly impossible to provide nuance or context via five or ten minute television news clips. Nevertheless, we watch because we want, we need, we are addicted to instant news. Where did the latest missile fall? How many were killed? How bad is the damage? Those are the questions television news broadcasts can answer. Who, what, where and when are easy - or they should be, but still the reporters do manage (frequently) to get things wrong, mostly because they are crippled by ignorance and/or do not have time to fact check before deadline. But "why" is impossible. For "why," you need a book. Several books, in fact. And you'll still end up with a subjective point of view, because the Middle East is like a Rorschach inkblot test: different people(s) look at the same thing and each see(s) something completely different. And, incredibly, they are often willing to kill those who disagree with them.

So I do not have high expectations of television news. And I feel sorry for anyone with little knowledge of this conflict who is trying to understand what is going on around here right now by watching the boob tube for a few minutes at the end of a long day. At best, you will be confused. At worst, you will be seriously misinformed.

Since I "get" television's limitations, I mostly take the news for what it is and I don't get all riled up about the theatre aspect. Unless I see something that is pure crap, which is what I saw on a BBC World studio interview tonight.




The BBC anchor in the photo above interviewed a Middle East analyst named Dilip Hiro in the studio - and basically made my jaw drop.

Paraphrased tidbits are below:

Well, said the anchor whose name I did not catch. It seems that, with its actions in Lebanon, Israel is actually siding with Hezbollah in its efforts to abort all chances for peace.

Indeed, concurred Mr. Hiro.

[I believe that is called "leading the witness"]

And then Mr. Hiro explained that there is this thing called an "assymetrical conflict." Israel has a large and powerful army with tanks and fighter planes,  but these poor guerillas only have guns, grenades and missiles. So, unfortunately, they have to use suicide bombers in order to balance the stronger power's military force. It's the only way, you see, explained Mr. Hiro.

The interview ended with Mr. Hiro's astonishing theory left completely unchallenged by the anchor.

Now, I am very (very!) critical of the actions taken by the IDF over the past two days. And yes, I will probably write about that subject in an upcoming post.

I am just wondering two things here:

1. What do suicide bombers have to do with the Hezbollah sending armed men into Israeli sovereign territory in order to kill and snatch Israeli soldiers who were patrolling their own country's border?

2. Does the fact that the anchor failed to challenge Mr. Hiro's astonishing statement about suicide bombers amounting to a "balance of military power" mean that the BBC is, in fact, justifying suicide bombings?

I really do not know what to say. Hey, you BBC people who read my blog, do you know this anchor? Was there was any controversy at work over that insane interview he did with Mr. Hiro? Seriously, I'd like to know.

At the Lebanese border in March 2006. Click to big; more here.


Alternate titles for this post:
- The testosterone factor
- The "whose is bigger" contest
- The extremists won again
- Deja vu all over again
- The summer of our discontent
- I cannot cover a war and give up smoking at the same time (nah, too long)

If there is one thing we can always count on in the Middle East, it is this: Just when there are signs of positive developments toward peace, just when we start to hear the voices of sanity, the extremists - the madmen with the crazed eyes who are convinced they have a direct phone line to God (and that God likes to see people kill each other) - spring into action and take us backward. That is what has been happening over the last two weeks, starting with the Hamas incursion from Gaza into Kerem Shalom and culminating yesterday morning with a Hezbollah "operation" inside Israel's northern border.

Yesterday morning I called Menachem Horowitz, the Channel 2 correspondent in northern Israel, to ask if he'd be willing to meet a foreign correspondent with whom I work. The correspondent was on his way up north, I explained, and could use some insight from a veteran Israeli journalist. "Listen, I am in the middle of a war here!" exclaimed the usually soft-spoken and helpful Mr. Horowitz.

And Esther, poor Esther, whom I met yesterday for the first time over breakfast at Ginzburg, had to suffer as my phone rang every few minutes, interrupting our conversation.

I've spent most of the last 24 hours glued to the internet, telephone and television. My head hurts, my thoughts are in a whirl and I really don't feel able to write anything cogent or insightful at this point. All I can think is, "the extremists have won again."

Just over two weeks ago, Abu Mazen and Ehud Olmert met at a breakfast hosted by King Abdullah in Jordan. They hugged each other and spoke in front of the cameras about imminent negotiations. A moment of hope. And then the incident at Kerem Shalom, followed by the IDF incursion into Gaza. And now Lebanon. Once again, I wonder how much blood must be spilt before we end this ridiculous, tragic conflict. And when we will stop warming our hands in front of the tribal bonfires instead of stepping back and seeing this conflict for what it is - a game of power played by politicians who really do not care all that much about the wellbeing of the people whose interests they claim to protect.

And once again, I wonder when the politicians will learn to act instead of react. As usual, none of the politicians are thinking - not with their brains, anyway. It seems to me that when Israel does exactly what the enemy's leader (Nasrallah) wants it to do, it is probably doing the wrong thing. C., if you're reading this: remember the time you told me that Israel's entire foreign policy was based on the expression, "I'm not a sucker"?  I never forgot that, you clever girl.

And that is as far as I am going to go with political analysis today. I need some time to rest and collect my thoughts first, sorry.

Here are some photos I took along the northern border when I traveled there in March with Michael Totten, who wrote these reports (1, 2) about what we saw and heard.

And below is what some Middle Eastern bloggers are saying:

From Ami, who usually blogs in Hebrew, an open letter to Raja of the Lebanese bloggers:

"Dear Raja,

I'm Ami, a Journalist and a Blogger from Israel…
I enjoy very much reading your blog, especially your last post ("an oblivious resident") regarding the current situation.

Your vivid and objective description, as well as the interesting comments giving by your readers,  enabling us, in Israel to have a direct and first-hand impression of what's is really going on your side…

While I'm writing these sentences, our government is having a special meeting in order to decide what to do, and how to react to Hizballa aggression. Commentators in Israeli TV channels are raising certain militant scenarios, and the word "war" is keep popping up while asking civilians in the streets…

Time now is 22:29. It was a sad day. What will come next? I was thinking to my self… maybe we could take advantage of the Blog power , and open a direct channel in the WEB, open to bloggers from Israel and Lebanon as well. For that purpose I'm going to put this text at my Blog . Please feel free to comment. "

*********

I recommend reading the Lebanese bloggers. They are providing constant on the scene updates.

************

The Egyptian Sandmonkey's post has a rather interesting comment thread.

**********

Here is a very moving post from a Syrian blogger, excerpted below:

"Thank you Nasrallah the angel of death in the Najjad-Assad squad of destruction for shortselling your Country Lebanon. You decided to sell what you don’t have to extremism and violence. Do you enjoy destroying your own bridges and infrastructures…do you celebrate the death of your own people living in poor villages…are you that blind and stupid to not know what the consequenses of your stupid action would be? yes enjoy enflaming the ignorant masses and being a hero…Saddam Hussein was a hero also when he invaded Kuwait. Is it not enough that the PLO fought from Lebanon in the 70s and 80s and ensured the destruction and divisions of the south where you come from! What did they gain from their war of attrition: nothing!"

*************************

Here's an excerpt from a post by She, of Something Something:

"I think of the bloggers across the Arab blogosphere who have afforded me the privilege of making their acquaintance, exchanging comments and emails as we work together to break down barriers, barriers put in place by those whose greatest fear is the discovery that we are all merely people and not the monsters they make us out to be. We may not always agree, but there is both a mutual respect and curiosity that we have chosen to embrace. Despite the actions of governments and organizations in our countries, we are trying hard to make our neighborhood a better place. Now, as I sit here on this train heading south, I can’t help but wonder, is it all for naught?"

************************

From Eliram, an Israeli who blogs in Hebrew, a translated excerpt from her post, "The Israeli mood is at minus 7" is below:

"A million mothers wipe away tears of pain before going to sleep. A million fathers are grinding their teeth in silence. And how many politicians understand now, in the small hours of the night, that their job includes a few things besides their salaries, plenum sessions and a car nearby. It's called responsibility for a whole nation..."

After a late lunch of salad and pasta at one of my favourite neighbourhood restaurants, the shift manager stopped by to chat. At one point we both joked that we were totally sick of watching the news, that politics in this country is like a soap opera script that repeats itself all the time and we just wanted to stick our heads in the sand again. Then I asked him if there were any light desserts.
Creme brulee? Tiramisu? he suggested. I wrinkled my nose and said, "Nah, too heavy. I'll just have coffee - make it iced, please."

So he brought me the iced coffee - and with it a bowl of cherries on a bed of ice cubes and a cup of thick sour cream for dipping.

"I think you'll like these," he smiled.

"Wow," I said. "They're absolutely delicious! Where are they from?"

"From the Golan!" he laughed. "You see, even cherries are political around here."

Jill has written a very interesting article based on an interview she did with Arthur Neslen, author of Occupied Minds, for Haaretz.


Arthur Neslen, photographed by Jill at a cafe in Tel Aviv's Florentine neighbourhood.

Neslen is a British Jew who defines himself as "anti-Zionist, but pro-Israel." His career as a journalist includes a stint as the London correspondent for aljazeera.net,  where he was the only Jewish person on staff. Currently he's writing for the Economist's web site. Read the rest here.

I'm recommending this piece not just because Jill's my beloved friend and I think she's one of the most fab, multi-talented chicks on the planet (she is); nor am I plugging it just because it's interesting and well written - which it certainly is. Most of all, I think you'll appreciate it for Jill's ability to write with sympathy and objectivity about someone with whom she may disagree on many points, but is able to respect and like nonetheless. These are qualities that are sadly lacking on the Israeli journalism scene. They are also lacking in far too many human beings, but that's a whole 'nother story.

There's no talkback feature for the article, unfortunately, but y'all can feel free to slather her with praise in the comments here. You might also mention ::ahem:: that it's high time she started her own blog.

This is a prelude to the post about Gaza that I am still thinking about - the one I'm not so sure I want to write.

This past Monday I accompanied an Italian journalist down to Kerem Shalom, the tiny kibbutz that is located just inside Israel where it meets the borders of Egypt and Gaza. It's a pretty surreal place - a pastoral little kibbutz that was founded as a tangible expression of its members' desire for, and belief in, peace between Israel and its neighbours. It is less than one kilometre from Rafah (Gaza), just inside the 1948 boundaries. Less than two weeks ago, at 5.30 in the morning, armed men from a militant Hamas group emerged through a tunnel they had dug, apparently over a period of 6 months, under the fence that separates Gaza from one of Kerem Shalom's potato fields. They killed two soldiers and snatched Corporal Gilad Shalit, who has not been heard from since.

The founders of the 5 year-old kibbutz believe that eventually the borders will be open and there will be free trade between Palestine, Israel and Egypt. Peace, said kibbutz secretary Abraham Hochman, will not come with guns. It will come through things like agricultural cooperation and negotiations.

Fifty-five people live on the kibbutz - 30 adults and 25 children. Two new families joined the kibbutz over the past two weeks.


Kibbutz Kerem Shalom

Davide (the Italian journalist) and I showed up at the kibbutz without calling first. We walked into the utilitarian little building that houses the offices and found Abraham immediately. Knowing that he'd probably been overwhelmed by media attention over the past few days, I said jokingly in Hebrew, "Surprise! Foreign journalists!"  He just smiled warmly and said, "Come into my office. I already met reporters from France and Sweden today. Where are you from?"

After we'd completed the interview, he took us on a tour of the kibbutz's periphery, which faces the army base, the potato fields, Egypt and Gaza. While we were standing in front of the potato field, our backs to the concrete wall that the army erected to protect the members from gunfire, a helicopter gunship appeared suddenly and began to fire down at Rafah - the neighbours over the fence. The rat-tat-tat of the gunfire was rather gut churning. By chance, I was poised to take a photo of Davide and Abraham just as the shots were fired and caught their expressions:

Reacting to gunfire from a helicopter over Rafah

I tried to photograph the helicopter, but the whole incident was over in about a minute and it flew away too fast and too high for me to capture.

After we left the kibbutz we drove a couple of minutes down the road to the border.

On the way, we passed quite a few tanks, armoured vehicles and soldiers.



Then we arrived at the border:

 

And that was as far as we could go, so we made a U-turn and went back...to Israel.



Less than two hours later we were back in Tel Aviv. We ate a late lunch under the huge fichus tree that shades the patio at Suzanna, talked about what we had seen and heard that day, watched the bridal parties arriving to be photographed (because the courtyard facing Suzanna is a popular place for that pre-wedding ritual) and then we parted.

As I walked home through Neve Tzedek, I passed the remnants of an old building that will soon be replaced - probably with a luxury home. Someone had spray-painted graffiti on the wall. It said, "Maayan and Moti were here and had wild sex."


"Maayan and Moti were here and had wild sex."

I walked up Rothschild Boulevard and stopped to chat with the guys at the coffee kiosk on the corner of Herzl Street.


The guys at the coffee kiosk on Rothschild Boulevard

I always feel a bit as though I've landed on Mars when I return to my beloved Tel Aviv after a day in the West Bank, Gaza or the tense border areas. It's so strange to walk around this sunny, happy, sophisticated little city that shows absolutely no sign of being just a short drive away from a conflict zone. Really, if you didn't know - well, you wouldn't know. I tried unsuccessfully to shake off the sense of gloom and foreboding that has dominated my mood since the politicians began beating the war drums last week.

I thought about my conversation with Abraham, the secretary of the kibbutz. He told me that his partner was in Tel Aviv that very day, meeting their lawyer and a Palestinian businessman from Ramallah to discuss the joint establishment of a company on both sides of the Rafah-Kerem Shalom border. They plan to build a terminal for the purpose of exporting Palestinian produce via Ben Gurion Airport. "The armies and politicians cannot reach an agreement," he said. "But we can. We see the potential for peace and we believe that Kerem Shalom will be a very important place when peace comes."

I asked him, at the end of the interview, if he was optimistic about peace.

He looked at me straight in the eye and said slowly, emphasizing each word, "If I wasn't optimistic about peace, I would not be here."

And he smiled, warmly and directly.

Brothers and sisters, as I sit here in this great city of Tel Aviv, home of air conditioned cafes with free WiFi and excellent espresso, I am contemplating what I plan to write about Gaza (gah!). And brothers and sisters, I have a dream. I dream that one day it will be possible to have a rational conversation about the Middle East. Yes, I have a dream today.

Can I get an "amen" ? (please?)


Dedicated to Sam Adams (aka Egyptian Sandmonkey).

Update: Someone left a long anonymous comment that was clearly meant to provoke, in the most negative sense of the word. I decided against posting it, which is something I have only done twice since introducing comment moderation. My reasons are mostly covered in the rules for commenting. Also, I'm just not in the mood for mean-spirited comments. They make me feel as though someone spit on the food I cooked.