The party's over for Tzipi- Yoel Marcus- and my published Response
by Samuel Cohen on Friday, January 27, 2012 at 4:23pm
Published 03:07 27.01.12
Latest update 03:07 27.01.12
The party's over for Tzipi
They used to say that Prime Minister Golda Meir was the only 'man' in Mapai; they're not saying that Livni is Kadima's Golda. Mapai members did not dare utter a word against Golda, while Livni has had quite a few rivals inside the party who ignored her.
The party's over for Tzipi
I don't know whether you've noticed, but Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu's face is glowing. He smiles, sports a perfect shave and haircut, all the way to the cameras. Check what happens when he shakes the hands of guests from abroad - the U.S. chief of staff, for example: While the guest looks straight at his host, Bibi focuses on the camera, the spectators. With a smile that says: "Nu, you see? There's nobody like me."
Who would have believed that Bibi, with just 12 Knesset seats in the opposition, would survive? In the last election Likud ended up with 27 seats, while Kadima, headed by Tzipi Livni, had 28. Bibi rules with a strong hand and an outstretched arm over an almost absolute majority with the ultra-Orthodox, Avigdor Lieberman (Yisrael Beitenu ) and a huge cabinet of 40 ministers and deputy ministers. And judging by what is happening to Kadima, there's a reasonable chance that Bibi will win a third term as prime minister.
If former Prime Minister Ariel Sharon, the founder of Kadima, could see what is currently happening within his party, he would go into a coma again. Kadima is today the most fractured party in the Knesset. From the moment Livni took over the leadership, she hasn't enjoyed even a moment of grace. She doesn't exist as an opposition like that of Likud during Menachem Begin's time, or even during Bibi's, but is destroying herself in her own party.
Livni made a mistake when she appointed Shaul Mofaz as her deputy, thereby creating an internal rival with her own hands. The relationship between the two is reminiscent of a story about two Israeli companies competing over the sale of a specific item to Singapore. Their mutual condemnations were so extreme that the buyer in Singapore believed both of them and purchased the item in France. A true story.
The internal conflicts in Kadima are liable to lead to the party's destruction, or as Benjamin Franklin once said: "We must all hang together or, most assuredly, we shall all hang separately." Israel, which is in need of a center-left party - but not a left-wing party and certainly not a messianic one - found it in Kadima. The last thing they expected was that it would be destroyed in internal wars.
I remember my first meeting with Livni. She amazed me with her talent for analysis and her ability to express herself. This is it, I said to myself. But my admiration dissolved after she assumed the role of party leader. As the leader of an opposition party she was nonexistent, not to mention the fact that she was unable to present herself as an alternative to the prime minister. Nor did she control the party whose platform she proudly claimed to have written.
They used to say that Prime Minister Golda Meir was the only "man" in Mapai (the predecessor of the Labor Party ); they're not saying that Livni is Kadima's Golda. Mapai members did not dare utter a word against Golda, while Livni has had quite a few rivals inside the party who ignored her.
Her decision to move up the primaries, to almost two years before the planned elections, is her second mistake (after appointing Mofaz as her deputy after the previous elections ).
Her arrogance was interpreted as weakness, and it's no wonder that today every bastard is a king. Dalia Itzik, for example, has yet to decide whether she is with Livni or Mofaz. Ruhama Avraham Balila is also hesitating, and there is a rival named Avi Dichter, and this is before we have heard the plans of Haim Ramon and Tzachi Hanegbi. They could be a winning pair opposite Livni.
Mofaz has built a strong foundation for himself. He knows how to embrace and distribute jobs, whereas Livni is arrogant and treats him with insulting coldness. Everyone remembers Mofaz's speech, during which Livni continually mocked him by blurting out, "Wonderful." Even rivals Yitzhak Rabin and Shimon Peres, says a member of Kadima, learned how to work together in spite of their grudges. Now Mofaz is threatening her leadership.
Mofaz will bring her to unpleasant places, says a well-informed observer. Livni's main asset is her rational attitude toward the conflict. Not a messianic party, but one that operates with statesmanlike logic. But the internal wars will destroy her. We have enough extremists here who will be happy if Kadima disappears.
When I asked a senior Kadima MK what has to be done, he replied unequivocally: "We have to hit Mofaz and Livni with a 5-kilogram hammer." Kadima is in a state of self-destruction at a time when we are most in need of it. Bibi is enjoying the best of all worlds: an overwhelming majority, a two-year budget and a chance at a third term. He will keep on smiling until the day an Iranian Shahab missile falls on Tel Aviv.
And nobody will be able to say that Kadima had nothing to do with it.
This story is by:
Yoel Marcus
Samuel Cohen:
Why Ignore the Real Issue of Dangerous System of Elections in Israel??
Samuel Cohen
27.01.12
15:06
I hope Kadima overcomes this storm I was there thursday and all the Leaders Agree that The present system of Elections that Ben-Gurion Wanted to Change is Dangerous! In the 1950's It was Menachem Begin on the Right and Mapam and Achdut Haavoda on the Left who were against change of this extreme PR Proportional Representation Similar to German Weimar Republic. Between WW1 1918 to WW2 1938 many countries in Europe Suffered from Weak Governments that lasted for less than a year due to PR. Read Mark Mazower (The Historian) on this Subject. A long list of Israeli Leaders Agree on this. From Liberman thru Netanyahu , Barak Dalia Rabin Mofaz Tzipi Livni Foad Ben Eliezer Meir Shitrit Lipkin Shachak Dan Haluttz Sharanski Meir Dagan Yisrael Hasson Yosi Beilin... Ophir Pines Paz. And Many Others. Read Megidor Report of January 2007... Enough is Enough. Without Democracy we will not have consistent Policies. On the other hand Tommy Lapid and Shas Supported the Worse System of two votes 1-For PM 2- Party. As THEY Benefited from this sick mess. Last week at Tel Aviv University my Professor Shlomo Aronson Said this about Eshkol and Ben Gurion over 6 Day War. Aso David Landau Former Editor of J Post and Haaretz....
Friday, January 27, 2012
Friday, December 23, 2011
Bruised but defiant: Mona Eltahawy on her assault by Egyptian security forces update 20th June 2014
The price of protest: writer Mona Eltahawy with her arms in casts after they were broken by Egyptian security forces in Cairo. 'Our dictators tailor wounds to suit their victims’ occupations,' she says. Photograph: Dan Callister for the Guardian
Bruised but defiant: Mona Eltahawy on her assault by Egyptian security forcesFurther Down
Egypt’s Sexual Violence
Mona Eltahawy's tweets about her assault in Cairo made global headlines. Here she tells her full, extraordinary story for the first time
Mona Eltahawy
guardian.co.uk, Friday 23 December 2011 17.56 GMT
The price of protest: writer Mona Eltahawy with her arms in casts after they were broken by Egyptian security forces in Cairo. 'Our dictators tailor wounds to suit their victims’ occupations,' she says. Photograph: Dan Callister for the Guardian
The last thing I remember before the riot police surrounded me was punching a man who had groped me. Who the hell thinks of copping a feel as you're taking shelter from bullets? Another man tried to protect him by standing between us, but I was enraged, and kept going back for more. A third man was trying to snatch my smartphone out of my other hand. He was the one who had pulled my friend Maged Butter and me into an abandoned shop – supposedly for safety's sake – and he wouldn't let go of my hand.
It was November. Maged and I had come from Tahrir Square to Mohamed Mahmoud Street, the frontline of clashes between protesters and the military, following a violent invasion of Tahrir by police and soldiers a few days earlier. Almost 40 people had died – including a distant relative – and 3,000 were wounded.
Maged tried to pull me away. "Enough smacking the groper, let the phone go." It's clear to us both now that those men we'd met among the protesters on Mohamed Mahmoud Street had entrapped us. They worked with the security services, who were a few metres away, just beyond no man's land, and their job was to hold on to us until the riot police came.
And when they did come, I was the only one left in the deserted shop. I thought Maged had managed to escape, but he later told me he was nearby being beaten, able to see riot police beat me, too. "You were smart to defend your head," he said. He needed stitches to his face, and still has contusions to his head and chest.
I suffered a broken left arm and right hand. The Egyptian security forces' brutality is always ugly, often random and occasionally poetic. Initially, I assumed my experience was random, but a veteran human rights activist told me they knew exactly who I was and what they were doing to my writing arms when they sent riot police conscripts to that deserted shop. Bashar al-Assad's henchmen stomped on the hands of famed Syrian cartoonist Ali Farzat. Our dictators tailor wounds to suit their victims' occupations.
As the nightsticks whacked at my arms, legs and the top of my head (in the week that followed, I would discover new bruises every day), two things were at the front of my mind: the pain and my smartphone.
The viciousness of their attack took me aback. Yes, I confess, this feminist thought they wouldn't beat a woman so hard. But I wasn't just a woman. My body had become Tahrir Square, and it was time for revenge against the revolution that had broken and humiliated Hosni Mubarak's police. And it continues. We've all seen that painfully iconic photograph of the woman who was beaten and stripped to her underwear by soldiers in Tahrir Square. Did you notice the soldier who was about to stomp on her exposed midriff? How could you not?
My phone fell as the four or five riot policemen beat me and then started to drag me towards no man's land. "My phone, I have to get my phone," I said, and reached down to try to retrieve it. It wasn't the Twitterholic in me that threw herself after the phone, but the survivor. For the first three or four hours of detention, I knew they could do anything and no one would know. In the event, it was near-miraculous that, while I was at the ministry, an activist with a smartphone came to discuss setting up a truce between protesters and security. As soon as he signed me in to Twitter, I sent out, "beaten arrested at interior ministry". And then his phone battery died.
Most people detained the same week I was taken in ended up at a police station or jail, but for some reason I was taken to the interior ministry and was then handed over to military intelligence for almost 12 hours. The sexual assault couldn't have lasted more than a few minutes, but the psychic bruise remains the freshest.
The orange midnight air – a cocktail of street lights, an adjacent school on fire, and air that was more tear gas than oxygen – and the black outlines of the helmeted riot policemen invade my thoughts every day, but I feel as though I have dissociated myself from what happened. I read news reports about a journalist whose arms were broken by Egyptian police, but I don't connect them to the splints around my arms that allow only one-finger typing on a touchpad, nor with the titanium plate that will remain in my left arm for a year, to help a displaced fracture align and fuse.
But the hands on my breasts, in between my legs and inside my trousers – that, I know, happened to me. Sometimes I think of them as ravens plucking at my body. Calling me a whore. Pulling my hair. All the while beating me. At one point I fell. Eye-level with their boots, all I thought was: "Get up or you will die."
They dragged me to the interior ministry, past men in plain clothes who were wearing the same surgical masks that we Tahrir-side civilians had worn against the tear gas. I almost shouted out, "Are you friend or foe?" Their eyes, dead to my assault, were my answer.
"Shit, I've been caught." I began to panic. "Shit, they're probably going to charge me with spying." I had lived in Israel for a period, where I had worked as a Reuters correspondent.
"You're safe now, I'll protect you." A senior plainclothes officer reassured me. "If I wasn't here, there would be no one protecting you from them. See them, over there? Do you know what they'd do to you?" He was pointing to a mob just steps away, itching to get at me. Even as the officer offered hollow protection, the men who had brought me in still went at my breasts. He did nothing.
It was an older man, from the military, who ended it. "Get her out."
"Why are you at war with the people?" I asked him. He looked me square in the eyes, fought his tears and swallowed. He couldn't speak. Others asked me again and again: "Why were you there?"
"I'm a journalist, I'm a writer, I'm an analyst," I said. But really I wanted to tell them I had longed to touch courage. It lived on Mohamed Mahmoud Street where young men – just boys in many cases, with their mothers' numbers written on their forearms in case they ended up in a morgue – would face off with security forces. Some of those who survived the tear gas and the bullets – rubber-coated and live – lost eyes. Security sharpshooters liked to aim for the head.
For months, Tahrir Square had been my mental touchstone: in New York City, where I live, and wherever I travelled to lecture on the revolution. But it was impossible just to stand by in the square and watch as the Motorbike Angels – volunteers who came on bikes to aid the overworked medics – zipped towards the field hospitals with their unconscious passengers, asphyxiated from the tear gas – and often worse – from the Mohamed Mahmoud frontline.
"If I die, I want to be buried in my Moroccan djellaba. It's laid out on my bed, ready," tweeted blogger and activist Mohamed "Gemyhood" Beshir. The hits of tear gas he inhaled pushed him back, so younger men would break his fall and fill in for him on the frontline until he recovered.
Throughout my detention, I demanded medical care for my arms, and showed my captors the increasingly dramatic bruises developing on my hand and arm. Most asked me to make a fist. "See, it's just a bruise. You wouldn't be able to make a fist if you had a fracture."
And I told them deliberately graphic details about the sexual assault. Eyes would twitch and look away. No one wanted to hear. "Why's a good girl like you talking about hands in your trousers? Shut up and silence your shame," I imagined them saying.
I'll be damned if I carry this alone,I thought. And so I went on and on, until finally they heard, and one of them yelled out: "Our society has a sickness. Those riot police conscripts who assaulted you, do you know what we've done for them? We've lifted them out of their villages, scrubbed them clean and opened a tiny door in their minds."
"That's exactly why we're having a revolution," I responded. "No one should have to live like that. Who created that misery they live in that you 'rescued' them from?"
I also let it be known that I was a US citizen, and asked for a consular representative to be called. I knew that, as an Egyptian-American (I moved to the US in 2000), I would be spared many horrors that countless unnamed Egyptians suffer. But I also anticipated the flip side. "Aren't you proud of being Egyptian? Do you want to renounce your citizenship," the military intelligence officer asked me.
Blindfolded, bone-tired and in agony from my fractures, I replied: "If your fellow Egyptians break your arms and sexually assault you, you'd want someone in the room you can trust."
The sadistic violence the security forces and army unleashed on Mohamed Mahmoud Street has ripped asunder naive notions that the military were "guardians of the revolution", or that the "army and the people are one hand". No, they broke my hand.
Last week's images from Egypt of the woman stripped down to her underwear and beaten have further unmasked the brutality of the Supreme Council of the Armed Forces (SCAF), the military junta that runs Egypt and which must be tried with crimes against the Egyptian people. I'm unable to look at any of those images of beatings because I feel the nightsticks fracturing my arms all over again. If I hadn't got up when I fell, they would have stomped on me as they stomped on that woman.
I spent the first two weeks back in New York on a painkiller high. It numbed the pain, as well as my ability to write. Once a week I see a psychologist who specialises in trauma; an orthopaedic surgeon has operated on my left arm to realign the ulnar shaft and fix it in place with a titanium plate and screws, and I have regular physiotherapy. But this week's massive women's march in Tahrir has sharpened my focus once again. When a woman who took part wrote to tell me I'd helped to inspire the march because I'd spoken out on Egyptian TV about my beating and assault, I was finally able to cry. They were the tears of a survivor, not a victim.
The Mubarak regime used systematic sexual violence against female activists and journalists, and here's the SCAF upholding that ignoble legacy. But to quote the women in Tahrir this week: "The women of Egypt are a red line." My body, and mind, belong to me. That's the gem at the heart of the revolution. And until I return to Egypt in January, healed once again, I will tell that to the SCAF over and over. One finger at a time.
How Mona tweeted her arrest and assault
The night of 23 November, as violence builds in the Egyptian capital, Eltahawy is reported missing. From prison she borrows a phone to tweet:
"Beaten arrested in interior ministry"
A campaign to free her begins to gather momentum, then on Eltahawy's feed:
"I AM FREE"
"12 hours with Interior Ministry bastards and military intelligence combined. Can barely type – must go xray arms after CSF pigs beat me"
"5 or 6 surrounded me, groped and prodded my breasts, grabbed my genital area and I lost count how many hands tried to get into my trousers"
"@Sarahngb is coming to kindly take me to the hospital. Besides beating me, the dogs of CSF subjected me to the worst sexual assault ever"
"Didn't want to go with military intelligence but one MP said either come politely or not. Those guys didn't beat or assault me"
"Instead, blindfolded me for 2 hrs, after keeping me waiting for 3. At 1st answered Qs bec passport wasn't w me but then refused as civilian"
And then...
"The whole time I was thinking about article I would write; just you fuckers wait"
© 2011 Guardian News and Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved.
Egypt’s Sexual Violence
CAIRO — There is a fierce battle raging in Egypt,
and it’s not the one between Islamists and military rulers — the two
factions that dominate most coverage of my country these days. The real
battle, the one that will determine whether Egypt frees itself of
authoritarianism, is between the patriarchy — established and upheld by
the state, the street and at home — and women, who will no longer accept
this status quo.
In
recent weeks, Egypt has criminalized the physical and verbal harassment
of women, setting unprecedented penalties for such crimes. But
celebrations for the election and inauguration of our new president,
Abdel Fattah el-Sisi, were marred by sexual assaults, including a gang rape, in Tahrir Square. Last week, Human Rights Watch released a report on what it has called an “epidemic of sexual violence” in Egypt. A few days later, yet more sexual violence took place at a march against sexual violence.
In March, I interviewed dozens of women in Egypt, Jordan, Libya and Tunisia for a BBC World Service radio documentary called “The Women of the Arab Spring.”
Many told me that very few things had changed for the better in their
lives since the uprisings that began in Tunisia in December 2010, but
that the revolutions had created a new and combustible power: the power
of their rage and the need to use it.
“My
personal revolution began 11 years ago, when I began to say ‘no’ to
many things in my family,” said Nesma el-Khattab, 24, a lawyer who works
at a center for women and children in a disadvantaged neighborhood in
northern Cairo. “Then the revolution came and I began to say ‘I
demand.”’ Ms. Khattab was subjected to genital cutting at age 9, and says she has threatened to “turn the house upside down” if her younger sisters are also cut. According to a 2008 demographic health survey in Egypt, 91.1 percent of women ages 15 to 49 had been subjected to genital mutilation.
Genital
cutting is one of the patriarchy’s violations of female bodies at home.
It does not spare them in public, either. Witness the mob sexual
assaults that hound women whenever they congregate in large numbers, be
it to celebrate or to protest. Between February 2011 and January 2014,
at least 500 women were sexually assaulted by mobs in Egypt and
thousands of women were subjected to sexual harassment, according to
Egyptian rights groups.
Sexual
violence is not exclusive to Egypt, of course. The phrase “rape
culture” is used to connect examples of sexual violence around the world
because it is important that discussions are not reduced to “their men:
bad” and “our men: good.” But it is equally important to examine the
particulars of sexual violence in Egypt.
In
November 2011, during protests on Mohamed Mahmoud Street, near Tahrir
Square, riot police officers beat me, broke my left arm and my right
hand and sexually assaulted me; their supervising officer threatened me
with gang rape. I was detained for six hours by the Interior Ministry,
and for another six by military intelligence officers who blindfolded
and interrogated me. I was denied medical attention during those 12
hours.
Mr. Sisi became the first Egyptian president to acknowledge sexual violence
when he paid a visit to the victim of that gang rape, who was
recovering in a hospital, and apologized to her. Mr. Sisi vowed to take
“very decisive measures” to combat sexual violence and, addressing
Egypt’s judges, said, “our honor is being violated on the streets, and
that is not right.” But it is women’s bodies that are being violated,
not our “honor” or Egypt’s honor.
Mr. Sisi was the head of military intelligence in March 2011 when 17 female activists detained at protests were subjected to “virginity tests”
by the military. The women were vaginally examined against their will
by military doctors. Mr. Sisi justified the tests at the time, saying
they were to safeguard the military against accusations of rape — as if
only virgins could technically be raped. In other words, the Egyptian
military sexually assaulted Egyptian women so that they could not
“falsely” accuse officers of sexual assault.
Since
Mr. Sisi overthrew President Mohamed Morsi, women who are affiliated
with Mr. Morsi’s Muslim Brotherhood movement — which has been outlawed
as a “terrorist group” — have also said they have been subjected to
“virginity tests.” It does not matter where you stand on Egypt’s
political spectrum: If you are a woman, your body is not safe.
During
a 2005 protest, our former dictator, Hosni Mubarak, used pro-regime
thugs to sexually assault female journalists and activists. Police
officers themselves also routinely sexually harass women. And at the
state-authorized march against sexual violence last Saturday, two
activists were detained for holding banners that read, “Remember
Interior Ministry harassment.” When the state violates women with such
impunity, it should not come as a shock when the street does as well.
We
need a comprehensive campaign that tackles sexual violence with a focus
on aiding the survivor rather than blaming her. It was good to see the
attorney general call for an investigation into a hospital that
reportedly refused to treat a sexual assault survivor last week.
Hospitals do not have rape kits, and medical personnel are unprepared to
deal with survivors of sexual violence. After my release from
detention, when I told the E.R. nurse who treated me that the police had
sexually assaulted me, she asked, “Why didn’t you resist?”
Mohamed
Ibrahim, the interior minister, said this week that he would create a
new department to combat violence, including sexual assault and
harassment, against women. But throwing men in jail must not be
considered a panacea. Accountability is necessary, but we also need a
societal shift that aims for both justice and respect for women. I know
that will take a long time.
We
must connect domestic violence, marital rape and female genital
mutilation with street sexual violence and clearly call them all crimes
against women. And just as we stood next to men to overthrow President
Mubarak, we need men to stand alongside us now. Where is their outrage?
Do they want to be synonymous with a hatred of women?
“The
revolution hasn’t reached our homes yet,” said Amira, 34, who attended a
recent self-defense event in Cairo with her 4-year-old daughter,
Fairouz. “Because some of the men who participated in the revolution,
who act like liberals outside the house — inside the house they are no
liberals.”
Mona Eltahawy
is an Egyptian-American writer and the author of the forthcoming book
“Headscarves and Hymens: Why the Middle East Needs a Sexual Revolution.”
Friday, July 15, 2011
Buthaina Dabit July 15th 2011 Jerusalem
Thousands of Israelis and Arabs march in Jerusalem to support Palestinian independence I was there too
Several MKs participate in the 'March for Independence,' the first such Jewish-Arab event in 20 years.
Several MKs participated in the march, including Zehava Galon of Meretz and Dov Hanin of Hadash. Other prominent public figures took part as well, such as former Speaker of the Knesset Avraham Burg and former Attorney General Michael Ben Yair.The march took a symbolic route, following the green line that used to divide East and West Jerusalem before the Six Day War in 1967. It began at Jaffa Gate and ended at the Sheikh Jarrah neighborhood, the opposite route taken by right-wing activists during Jerusalem Day last month.
Avner Inbar, Solidarity movement spokesman, said that the declaration of independence in September is "an act of people who crave freedom." He added that "Palestinian independence is not only the natural right of the Palestinian people. It is the only solution that can prevent another wave of violence between Israelis and Palestinians. This march proves that a joint, Jewish-Arab struggle is the way to end the occupation."
Friday, July 8, 2011
Assy Dayan July 2011 - Lior Dayan- Maariv Friday.
טיפות דם על סדינים לבנים: ראיון עם אסי דיין
"אחרי ארבעה נישואים, x ילדים, Y פרידות, 30 אשפוזים במחלקות פסיכיאטריות, 70 סרטים, שלוש מלחמות ועוד שלוש שנים וחצי במצטבר של ימי מילואים, יש לי את הזכות להיות עייף, פשוט להיות עייף מהחיים". ליאור דיין מדבר עם אבא אסי על הסרטים שעשה, הנשים שנטשו, הבדידות שאין ממנה מוצא וניסיון ההתאבדות האחרון שממנו ניצל על ידי המטפל הפיליפיני שלו
בתוך הדירה יש פיליפיני בשם מינו שמכין שתי כוסות קפה ומוציא מהמקפיא גלידת שוקולד ושם אותה בשתי קערות. אני די בטוח שלפני שמינו הגיע ארצה הוא לא ידע מה מחכה לו, או יותר נכון מי מחכה לו. אולי הוא חשב לעצמו שיטפל בקשיש חביב שלא ידבר הרבה ויחרבן בניחותא בטיטול למבוגרים, מקסימום הוא יהיה שוליה של איזה פנסיונר חובב צפרות. הוא בטח לא חשב שהוא הולך להיכנס אל תוך חייו של אחד האנשים הסוערים ביותר במדינת היהודים, אדם שכל יום שלו מכיל אינסוף אפשרויות וכל רגע מפורק אחר כך והופך לתסריטים, שירים, פזמונים, ספרים, ציורים ובלוגים. אדם בשם אסי דיין. אני בטוח שבפיליפינים של מינו אין מקבילה לאסי דיין. מקסימום גרסה חיוורת, מנומסת, יותר ידידותית למשתמש של המקור. יש אנשים שאי אפשר לשכפל. ויש טירוף שאי אפשר להעתיק.
אנחנו יושבים בסלון, מינו מביא לנו את הקפה והגלידה, ואני שואל את אבא: "אז מה קרה באותו יום לפני כמה שבועות שבו ניסית להתאבד?".
הוא מדליק סיגריה, נשען לאחור, מסדר את הכרית של הספה בצורה האופטימלית לשיחה מהסוג הזה, ומתחיל לדבר: "טוב, זה קטע פסיכוטי, אין לזה גיבוי בהיגיון, פשוט לקחתי סכין יפנית דפוקה והתחלתי לחתוך את עצמי ביד לכאן ולכאן. ואחרי זה חשבתי לעצמי שאני אכתוב פוסט משעשע (לאתר "תפוז", שם הוא כותב בלוג שבועי - ל"ד) על זה שנראיתי כאילו אני מעצב מצעים עם טיפות הדם שנפלו על הסדין. תחשוב על זה רגע מבחינה עיצובית: הרבה טיפות דם אדומות על מצעים לבנים, נראה לא רע. לדעתי, אני יכול לעצב לכיתן דימונה את קולקציית המצעים. אבל מה שרציתי לכתוב בבלוג הוא שזה כנראה הפרינציפ של המוות שלי: עיצוב מצעים. מה אני אגיד לך? אני לא הפסקתי ליצור עד הרגע האחרון".
מתי בדיוק זה קרה? באיזו שעה?
"זה היה בעשר בבוקר. אני לא יודע, זה לא היה אחרי שום אירוע שהוא יותר טראומטי משאר האירועים שקרו בחמש השנים האחרונות. 'שאר האירועים' זה הבדידות שלי קודם כל, זה הרס אותי. חלק מזה זה בגלל שאתה לא היית כאן שנתיים - שגם זה היה יותר מדי. וחלק מזה זה כמובן כל הנשים בחיי, ועל זה כתבתי בפירוט בבלוג שלי בתפוז. זה לא ממש חשוב, זה יותר רכילות, אבל באופן סיסטמטי ננטשתי על ידי כל הנשים האלה: אשתי לשעבר, העורכת של הסרט שלי, החברה שלי לשעבר".
זה היה הדבר שהפריע לך באמת, ענייני הנשים?
"לא, זה היה הסך הכל. מה שהפריע לי קודם כל זה הירידה בערך עצמי. אמרתי: 'אני כנראה דוחה. אני שמן, אני נוטף כולי, מזיע, ואין פלא שאני פשוט דוחה נשים'. מבחינת הזהות הגופנית שלי הייתי אבוד. זה חלק ממחלת הבורדר ליין שלי - הדבלואציה הזו שאני עושה לעצמי. וזה חוץ מהעובדה שהייתי בדיוק אחרי צילומי הסרט ("ד"ר פומרנץ") שגמר אותי מכל בחינה. הרגשתי פתאום שכאילו עזוב סרט, מה יהיה? מה? בפילוסופיה קיומית, אקזיסטנציאליזם וכן הלאה, מדברים בעיקר על אותנטיות, על כך שאם תהיה אותנטי תצא לחופשי, תתגבר על האימה הקיומית. אבל אני חושב שזה לא נכון. לפי ההשקפה הפילוסופית שלי, המרכיבים שקובעים מה יהיה בחיים שלנו הם הארעי, האקראי והסתמי. ועל זה אני חוזר כבר מגיל אפס. לא ייאמן מתי התחלתי להתעסק עם החומרים האלה. כבר בספר הראשון שלי (הכוונה לספר השירים שהוציא בגיל 15 - ל"ד) מופיעים האלמנטים האלה. אז עוד לא ידעתי בדיוק איך לחבר אותם, אבל כבר שם מופיע העניין הזה של הארעיות והסתמיות של הקיום שלנו.
מה שהפריע לי קודם כל זה הירידה בערך עצמי. אסי דיין
ראובן קסטרו
ובכל זאת, אתה עדיין איתנו. "הנה, אני עכשיו עושה את הסדרה הביוגרפית לערוץ 8 ("החיים כשמועה" שמיועדת ל-2012 - ל"ד) וזה יוצא כאילו שמדברים על ארבעה בני אדם עם ארבע ביוגרפיות שונות, זה פשוט לא ייאמן. וכאילו קצתי בזה. אני מרגיש שעשיתי מספיק בחיי והגיע הזמן לעצור. אפילו אמרתי את זה בקול רם מול כמה בני משפחה לא מזמן, אמרתי להם, 'אני רוצה למות, זה פשוט וקל: אני רוצה למות. אני מתעקש על זה ואני אמצא את הדרך לעשות זאת בלי להגיד לכם'".
בוא נחזור לאותו היום בו ניסית להתאבד. מה קרה אחרי שחתכת את הוורידים? מינו מצא אותך?
"לא, הוא ישן, אז אמרתי לעצמי שאני לא אעיר אותו".
אז איך בכל זאת ניצלת?
"בסוף קראתי לו. ראיתי שזה לא הולך. תראה, היפנים נכשלו פה בגדול עם הסכין היפנית שלהם, היא לא חתכה מספיק וזה גם התחיל להיות אווילי, כי חשבתי שבסלאש אחד אגיע לעורק - לא לווריד - אבל זה אפילו לא התקרב לשם. זה לא כאב, אבל התחיל להיות לכלוך, הדם פשוט התחיל ללכלך את המצעים והכל, ואמרתי שאני חייב להעיר את מינו. הוא נתן קפיצה כשהוא ראה אותי ובא מהר וייבש לי את היד עם מגבת. הוא לא היה צריך להרגיע אותי, הייתי רגוע מאוד. ואז זה הסתיים".
ואז מה חשבת? "חשבתי על איזו ציטטה של מישהו שאמר:'אין לך דבר יותר פאתטי מניסיון התאבדות שנכשל'. ואז חשבתי שכאילו גם את הדבר הפשוט הזה אני לא מסוגל לעשות. חשבתי לעצמי שעל ניסיון ההתאבדות הזה אני לא אקבל לא אוסקר ולא מפעל חיים".
ומה היחס שלך למוות היום?
"בנקודה זו הוא נודד אל עבר שולחן העבודה שלו, לוקח דף נייר מתוך ערימת הניירות שמונחים שם, מתעלם משאלתי, ומכריז: "יש לי פה את קטע הווייס אובר שיופיע בסרט 'ד"ר פומרנץ', קצת לפני ההתאבדות של ד"ר פומרנץ. זה קטע יפה. תקשיב: 'עכשיו אתה קופץ מגובהם הננסי של חייך, אל הפטור ממסים וההיסטוריה על פי 'מעריב', בתור אחד שממש לא משנה אם הוא חי או מת. עולם הפסיכולוגיה לא ישלח את תנחומיו, אבל אני ההוכחה שהחיים מתנהלים תחת שלושה זרזים: הסתמי, המקרי והארעי. זהו, הגיע הזמן לבטל את הכל'".
באותו יום כתבת מכתב התאבדות?
"מה שקרה הוא שנזכרתי ברגע האחרון שאני צריך להשאיר משהו אחריי, איזו מילה רעה על מישהו, אז רצתי מהר ומצאתי טוש כזה וכתבתי בכתב יד איום ונורא את השמות של כל הנשים שאכזבו אותי. רק את השמות, בלי פירוט. בדרך כלל כולם כותבים במכתבי התאבדות: 'מצטערים' ו'סליחה' ו'לא התכוונתי', אבל אני להפך, רוצה להעמיד את כולם לדין. ולמה? כי כל הנשים הללו שהיה לי איתן סיפור אהבה דו צדדי, היום הן בסיפור אחר עם גברים שאני מכנה אותם'ננו
בורגנים'. לא יכול להיות שהצלחתי לכוון את עצמי להיות דווקא עם נשים שלא העריכו אותי בגרם אחד כשברחוב אנשים צועקים לי: 'אתה הגדול מכולם', 'הגאון הכי הגדול', או כותבים לי את זה בטוקבקים. איך דווקא אני נפלתי על נשים כאלה שעכשיו הן עם חברים אדמיניסטרטורים קטנים, לא אמנים, לא כלום? מתברר שבחירת האהבה שלי בנשים לא הייתה קשורה בכלל באמנות. אבל חשוב להזכיר שהכישלון הוא שלי, לא שלהן. הכישלון הוא בבחירה שלי בנשים האלה".
אתה כרגע במצב נפשי כזה שאתה עלול להתעורר מחר בבוקר ושוב לחתוך את הוורידים?
"לא. אני לא מאמין".
למה?
"זה יישמע קפקאי אבל מותק, קבעתי פגישות".
דיסציפלינה אחרת
אתה יודע, הרבה אנשים היו אומרים שאדם כמוך הוא
האחרון שיש לו סיבה להתאבד. אתה בין היוצרים הבולטים בארץ, אתה מקבל פרסים
על ימין ועל שמאל, אתה בן אדם מוכר ומצליח. מה אתה אומר לאנשים שאומרים לך
דבר כזה?
"אני אומר להם דבר כזה: תראו, מבחינת האגו, כבר כשנולדתי הייתי
קצת מחוסל, כי נולדתי לנפוליאון הישראלי. ומאותו הרגע אתה צריך להחליט אם
אתה משנה את שמך לאסי כהן - למרות שיש כבר מישהו עם שם כזה והוא מוצלח מאוד
- ומנסה כמו הילדים של הרצל לברוח מהשם בדרכים משונות, או שאתה נשאר עם שם
המשפחה ומקבל את הדין. כלומר, אי אפשר לשכנע אותי שאני מוצלח כשגדלתי תחת
אישיות שהייתה מגה מגה היסטורית, לא סתם אישיות, זה הישראלי היחיד לדעתי
שהופיע פעמיים על השער של 'טיים' ופעמיים על השער של 'ניוזוויק' ועל מה לא.
אבל זה לא אומר שום דבר על הקשרים האישיים ביני ובינו. זה פשוט שם לי רף
כזה שאני לא יכול לעבור. ואין לי שום עניין בזה, זה לא סוג האמביציה שיש
לי. אני, יש לי מין אמביציה קטנה כזו בצד, לרדת על כל מיני אנשים כמו אבי
נשר וסידר ושמידר וכל האידיוטים האלו. הם לא אמנים והם לא אנשים שיכולים
לכתוב שורה אחת מוצלחת. אני מתייחס בזלזול, ובצדק, לאנשים כמוהם שלא באו
לקולנוע מדיסציפלינה אחרת. אני למשל בא מדיסציפלינה אחרת".
מה זאת אומרת "דיסציפלינה אחרת"? "זאת אומרת שאני בא לקולנוע מדיסציפלינה אחרת של פילוסופיה וידע די רחב בפסיכיאטריה ובפסיכולוגיה ובספרות ובהיסטוריה ובאמנות, וכיוון שאני בא משם אני משקיע בסרטים שלי רק את המינימום ההכרחי. לא כמו האידיוט הזה, החתיכת בהמה הזה, שעשה את 'אווטאר' ו'טיטאניק', ג'יימס קמרון הזה. זה עניין אידיוטי לחלוטין שאתה צריך ללבוש את המשקפיים הטיפשיים האלה בשביל לראות איזה כריש קופץ עליך בשלושה ממדים. ג'יימס קמרון הזה לא בא מדיסציפלינה אחרת. יש מעט מאוד במאים שאני מעריך, אחד מהם זה סטנלי קובריק, שבאמת לקח ספרים בינוניים והביא אותם לאזורים אחרים. הוא היחידי שאני יכול להגיד עליו שהוא במאי-במאי, שהתואר 'במאי' באמת מגיע לו. 'התפוז המכני' ו'אודיסאה בחלל' הם סרטים אדירים. אבל אם אתה שואל אותי, קולנוע זה לא ממש אמנות, זה הרבה הרבה בירוקרטיה, הרבה עבודת שלישות וניהול, 50 איש עובדים מתחתיך על הסט וכולם רוצים לדעת באיזה צבע יהיה הארון המזוין".
כשהתקשרת אליי וסיפרת לי על ניסיון ההתאבדות אמרת שאתה לא רוצה להתאשפז. אתה עדיין מרגיש ככה? "כן, באמת נורא פחדתי מזה. פחדתי שכשאמי תשמע על זה היא ישר תרים טלפון לד"ר כספי, וד"ר כספי ירים טלפון לפסיכיאטר המחוזי ואז היו שולחים הנה אמבולנס לאשפז אותי בכוח, בכפייה. זה נוהל קבוע, ככה מונעים מבני אדם לאבד את חייהם. מאשפזים אותם בכוח ואז סוגרים אותם ומזריקים להם אטומין או נוזינן, כדי שקודם כל ישנו 24 שעות, שלא יהיו כל כך בהכרה, ואז מתחיל הטיפול הרגיל. בדרך כלל זה לא עוזר. ולא משנה אם זה תל השומר או גהה, זה תמיד אותו הדבר.
"היה לי פעם ויכוח עם פרופ' יורם יובל ואמרתי לו: 'ההמצאה הזו שלכם, התרופות האנטי-פסיכוטיות, יש לי שני דברים להגיד עליהן: אחד זה שהן הורגות, אוברדוז קטן ואתה מת. ודבר שני זה שאתה מאבד את הזהות שלך כשאתה לוקח אותן. אבל לא זו הסיבה שבגללה לא רציתי להתאשפז, לא רציתי להתאשפז כי אין לזה סוף. כי אחרי האשפוז מתחילים המשפטים, זאת אומרת אתה צריך לבוא לוועדה ולנסות לשכנע אותה שאתה לא במצב פסיכוטי, אתה לא מסוכן לעצמך, אתה לא מסוכן לאחרים, ואתה יכול להשתחרר. זה סיפור שלם".
לא רוצה להתאשפז. אסי דיין
ראובן קסטרו
טוב, אני אשאל אותך שאלה טיפה בומבסטית: מה חסר לך בחיים? "פעם פרופ' מדיני שטיפל בי, סיפר לי שהוא הלך עם הנכדה שלו יום אחד והיא אמרה לו: 'כל מה שאני רוצה זה חיבוקי ונישוקי'. זה מה שבעיקרון אני רוצה, זה הדבר שחסר לי. הנה, היום שאלה אותי מישהי שפגשתי מה מכביד עליי ואמרתי לה: קודם כל זה שאין לי אהבה, אהבה דו סטרית. אני מרגיש שאצלי הצורך באהבה הפך לאחד מהצרכים ההישרדותיים כמו רעב או צמא. יש אנשים שיכולים לחיות בלי זה וזה לא מעניין אותם, כל מה שהם רוצים זה לזיין. אני לא כזה. בקיצור, ההרגשה הזו שאני מהווה טרחה בזה שאני מבקש אהבה, כאילו הפכתי לליצן שייקספירי שמתחנן על נפשו, שמבקש שיאהבו אותו ושיצחקו מהבדיחות שלו, היא הרגשה מעיקה מאוד. והלבדיות הזו שלי היא עוד יותר קשה. מתברר שקרוב למיליון וחצי איש בעולם מתאבדים כל שנה ואצל רובם זה כתוצאה מבדידות".
לא מזמן אמרת לי שבשנתיים וחצי האחרונות אתה הבן אדם הכי בודד בעולם. אתה עדיין מרגיש ככה?
"כן, זה נכון וזה עדיין ככה. תמיד יש נשים או גברים שרוצים ממני משהו, אבל זה תמיד על בסיס של זה שאני אסדר להם תפקיד בסרט או משהו בסגנון הזה. אתה יודע, זה יכול להיות גם אפילו משהו כמו מישהי שבאה ואומרת לי שיש לה תסריט שכתבה ושהיא רוצה שאני אעבור אליו ואגיד לה מה דעתי, ובאותו הזמן לעשות את זה בטון שנותן לי את ההרגשה המטומטמת שזה יכול להיות גם רומנטי. וזה ממש לא רומנטי".
יש צדדים טובים לבדידות הזו שלך?
"הצד הטוב שבבדידות, זה שאני כל הזמן מטעין איזו בטרייה מוזרה, את המוח שלי, בידע בנושאים שאני אף פעם לא מסוגל לדבר עליהם עם ידידים או חברים. עיר המקלט שלי זה הדמיון שלי והידע שלי. אלו שני מחוזות שונים, המחוז של הדמיון יותר קשור ל'עבודה', אבל המחוז של הידע הוא שונה, שם אני קולט דברים, שם אני ממש כמו פאקמן, רק תנו לי לבלוע חומרים עיוניים, בפילוסופיה בעיקר".
יצא לך לחשוב איזו מורשת אתה משאיר מאחוריך?
"לא ממש. אבל אני חושב שמה שאמרתי לך על הפילוסופיה שלי באשר ל'ארעי, האקראי והסתמי' זה דבר שאני כן אשאיר מאחוריי, למרות שאני מרגיש שעוד לא ניסחתי את זה בצורה מספיק חדה. וגם בסוף, אחרי שאנסח את זה כמו שצריך, אשאיר את זה אחריי לשלושה תלמידים שבאמת רוצים ללמוד פילוסופיה. אולי מבחינת קולנוע אני אשאיר משהו מאחוריי, משהו'בשביל העולם'. אין לי ספק, ואני יכול להשתחצן פה כמה שאני רוצה, כי יש קבלות, שהסרטים שעשיתי היו במרחק שנות אור מסרטים ישראליים אחרים. סרטים כמו 'החיים על פי אגפא', 'מר באום', 'שמיכה חשמלית ושמה משה' ו'חגיגה לעיניים'. ומצד שני, הסרט הכי פופולרי בכל הזמנים זה בכל זאת 'גבעת חלפון אינה עונה' שאני כתבתי וביימתי".
אתה לא שם את "החיים על פי אגפא" ו"חגיגה לעיניים" באותה קטגוריה עם "גבעת חלפון". זה בעינייך סרט פחות טוב? "כן, במקום מסוים. את 'גבעת חלפון' וסרטים בסגנון הזה כמו 'שלאגר' היה לי הרבה יותר קל לי לכתוב".
טוב, עוד שתי שאלות. הראשונה היא אם יצא לך להרהר, ביום שבו ניסית להתאבד, מה יחשבו האנשים סביבך אם תמות. נניח, מה סבתא תחשוב? מה אני אחשוב?
"לא, אבל אני חושב שעקרונית זה כל הזמן עובר לכם בראש כי אני כל הזמן מטפל במוות, עשיתי לו שירות גדול והפצתי את שמו ברבים. אבל אגיד לך את האמת: אני לא ראיתי בדמיון שלי מישהו מהמשפחה בוכה. כמו שתמיד הייתי אומר לאשתי לשעבר: 'תעשי לי טובה, רק אל תלבשי את משקפי השמש האלה בלוויה. כאילו, מה את מנסה להסתיר? הרי את לא תבכי'. לי בכלל נראה שהמשפחה תשמח להיפטר ממני. אני חושב שבניתי הקדמה לעניין הזה, הקדמה כזו ארוכה, שזה כמעט הולך להיות הבטחה שלא קוימה. עוד יגידו לי: 'רגע, אבל קבענו איתך שתתאבד בגיל 65, אז מה אתה עוד מסתובב פה?'".
זה לא נכון. אני יכול להבטיח לך שאנשים במשפחה לא היו לוקחים דבר כזה בקלות. בטח לא אני.
"לא, אתה בטח שלא, את זה אני יודע. ופה אני חייב להודות שהיחסים איתך זה דבר שהוא בכלל חריג בכל קנה מידה של הורות, כי אנחנו חיינו איזה שנתיים ביחד והתגלגלנו מצחוק ובילינו ושיגענו את העולם ואת עצמנו. בעיניי זה היה קטע מופלא ביחסים בין אבא ובן, וזה נשאר ככה, רק שאני פחות דואג לך היום, זה נכון, כי אני רואה שבסך הכל עברת כבר את הנורא מכל. באמת, שנתיים להיות במוסד גמילה בלוס אנג'לס זה לא צחוק. אבל אני באמת שמח לראות שאתה מאושר".
שאלה אחרונה: מה אני יכול לעשות בשביל לעזור לך, אבא?
"בוא נגיד את זה בצורה סבירה ואנושית: לשמור על קשר. תאמין לי, זה כדאי. תראה, נעים פה, הפיליפיני פה, יש פה גלידות
Monday, June 13, 2011
Yossi Beilin from peace activist to businessman, 2011
Yossi Beilin, from peace activist to businessman:-Haaretz
And so, if you, too, have despaired of the whole peace thing and you're interested in the agriculture business, give him a call. Yossi Beilink, that's the name now.
By Alon IdanYossi Beilin still wears a black suit and a red tie. In the photograph accompanying the interview in the Hebrew edition of MarkerWeek on June 9, we could see Beilin's hair was still carefully styled, his hands clapsed as a sign of restraint. His statements are as eloquent as always, linked by infinitely passionate logic.
The photograph revealed the essential backdrop - an overflowing bookshelf as befitting an intellectual. At least three of the titles, the picture showed, pertained to his spiritual grandfather, David Ben-Gurion. Also in the shot were another book, bound in purple and displaying the word, "hope," in big letters, a small sculpture of a scale and another of Auguste Rodin's The Thinker, and two red notebooks stuffed with documents.
Yes, it looks more or less like the same old Beilin, the one from the peace business.
But Beilin is no longer in the peace business. He has replaced peace with agriculture, water and domestic security - and, to a lesser extent, health too. He has established Beilink, a company that promotes private firms in foreign countries, a kind of a "foreign ministry for business."
The method is simple: "I know what the Foreign Ministry is and is not allowed to give." Beilin provides what the Foreign Ministry cannot.
He does so by means of the political connections he wove over the years. He cooperates with a worldwide network of former senior politicians, the good folk from the peace business - Madeleine Albright, Sandy Berger, Joschka Fischer, Igor Ivanov, Bernard Kouchner. "No one will ever demand that a person erase his connections," Beilin says. "Am I a baby who has nothing and is just beginning to travel the world?"
He certainly is no baby. He is 63 years old, and after decades in one position, he has the right to hold another, more profitable one. And Beilin is indeed pleased with his career change. "I don't miss the world of politics," he says. "When I was there, I felt almost as if I was doing a shift."
If so, the shift is over.
The original objects of Beilin's passions have found themselves suitable replacements. The satisfaction he derived from the possibility of making peace in a blood-soaked region is now derived from "giving clients in Israel experience and connections with entities abroad."
He has substituted the Geneva Initiative with a joint initiative with former MK Rafi Elul to promote agricultural businesses in Arab countries; the spark that burned in him when he put together the "Beilin-Abu Mazen understandings" now does so when his company helps an Indian get a loan from a certain European country; his inexhaustible subversiveness on the way to the end of the conflict has been exchanged for the aspiration to connect Israelis to profit-making real estate across the sea.
"The field is so varied that it drives me out of my mind," Beilin says with pleasure.
Of course, Beilin, like any careful craftsman, "takes only what interests me, that is a challenge and of whose value I'm certain." He has his red lines, and naturally, they all touch on the moral realm. "We will never deal in offensive weaponry... We will not make deals with pariah countries... We will not accept unethical payments."
He looks well, Beilin does. Still in his black suit and red tie. Still carefully coiffed. Still with his fluent text, his clapsed hands and his restrained tone. Still with Madeleine Albright and Joschka Fischer. Still a kind of foreign minister, albeit somewhat differently so.
And so, if you, too, have despaired of the whole peace thing and you're interested in the agriculture business, give him a call. Yossi Beilink, that's the name now. It's written the same way - only with an invoice at the end.
The photograph revealed the essential backdrop - an overflowing bookshelf as befitting an intellectual. At least three of the titles, the picture showed, pertained to his spiritual grandfather, David Ben-Gurion. Also in the shot were another book, bound in purple and displaying the word, "hope," in big letters, a small sculpture of a scale and another of Auguste Rodin's The Thinker, and two red notebooks stuffed with documents.
Yes, it looks more or less like the same old Beilin, the one from the peace business.
But Beilin is no longer in the peace business. He has replaced peace with agriculture, water and domestic security - and, to a lesser extent, health too. He has established Beilink, a company that promotes private firms in foreign countries, a kind of a "foreign ministry for business."
The method is simple: "I know what the Foreign Ministry is and is not allowed to give." Beilin provides what the Foreign Ministry cannot.
He does so by means of the political connections he wove over the years. He cooperates with a worldwide network of former senior politicians, the good folk from the peace business - Madeleine Albright, Sandy Berger, Joschka Fischer, Igor Ivanov, Bernard Kouchner. "No one will ever demand that a person erase his connections," Beilin says. "Am I a baby who has nothing and is just beginning to travel the world?"
He certainly is no baby. He is 63 years old, and after decades in one position, he has the right to hold another, more profitable one. And Beilin is indeed pleased with his career change. "I don't miss the world of politics," he says. "When I was there, I felt almost as if I was doing a shift."
If so, the shift is over.
The original objects of Beilin's passions have found themselves suitable replacements. The satisfaction he derived from the possibility of making peace in a blood-soaked region is now derived from "giving clients in Israel experience and connections with entities abroad."
He has substituted the Geneva Initiative with a joint initiative with former MK Rafi Elul to promote agricultural businesses in Arab countries; the spark that burned in him when he put together the "Beilin-Abu Mazen understandings" now does so when his company helps an Indian get a loan from a certain European country; his inexhaustible subversiveness on the way to the end of the conflict has been exchanged for the aspiration to connect Israelis to profit-making real estate across the sea.
"The field is so varied that it drives me out of my mind," Beilin says with pleasure.
Of course, Beilin, like any careful craftsman, "takes only what interests me, that is a challenge and of whose value I'm certain." He has his red lines, and naturally, they all touch on the moral realm. "We will never deal in offensive weaponry... We will not make deals with pariah countries... We will not accept unethical payments."
He looks well, Beilin does. Still in his black suit and red tie. Still carefully coiffed. Still with his fluent text, his clapsed hands and his restrained tone. Still with Madeleine Albright and Joschka Fischer. Still a kind of foreign minister, albeit somewhat differently so.
And so, if you, too, have despaired of the whole peace thing and you're interested in the agriculture business, give him a call. Yossi Beilink, that's the name now. It's written the same way - only with an invoice at the end.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Irshad Manji Allah, Liberty, and Love 2011, 3 Myths
3 myths about Muslims:
Myth: “I’m just one person; I can’t make a difference.”
In Allah, Liberty and Love, I tell the story of “just one person” who became Islam’s Gandhi. Never heard of him? Neither have most Muslims. That’s why, as “one person,” you can approach your local school to include the Muslim Gandhi in its curriculum. Allah, Liberty and Love offers many more tips to advance reconciliation, whether you’re an individual or joining hands with others.
Myth: “I’m not a Muslim, so I’m not allowed to say anything.”
Hooey. As I explain, Martin Luther King Jr. himself faced the charge of being an “outside agitator” because he dared to cross state lines. As Rev. King reminded the critics, “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality; tied in a single garment of destiny.” Similarly, what takes place among Muslims today affects countless lives outside the fold. Non-Muslims have a right—and responsibility—to be part of this urgent conversation.
Myth: “Interfaith dialog is the answer.”
Too often, interfaith dialog degenerates into an exchange of platitudes. But Allah, Liberty and Love gives you the permission to ask uncomfortable questions, which shows faith in our capacity to think. Questions also show respect: You’re honoring me when you refuse to infantilize me.
Ultimately, Allah, Liberty and Love will equip readers to develop “moral courage”—the willingness to speak up when everyone else wants to shut you up. This can be fun: At the end of the book, I publish my recipe for spiced chai tea as a delicious incentive to get together with friends, share these ideas and support each other in the journey of moral courage—a journey that, taken by enough of us, will transport Muslims and non-Muslims to a peace worth having.
Myth: “I’m just one person; I can’t make a difference.”
In Allah, Liberty and Love, I tell the story of “just one person” who became Islam’s Gandhi. Never heard of him? Neither have most Muslims. That’s why, as “one person,” you can approach your local school to include the Muslim Gandhi in its curriculum. Allah, Liberty and Love offers many more tips to advance reconciliation, whether you’re an individual or joining hands with others.
Myth: “I’m not a Muslim, so I’m not allowed to say anything.”
Hooey. As I explain, Martin Luther King Jr. himself faced the charge of being an “outside agitator” because he dared to cross state lines. As Rev. King reminded the critics, “We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality; tied in a single garment of destiny.” Similarly, what takes place among Muslims today affects countless lives outside the fold. Non-Muslims have a right—and responsibility—to be part of this urgent conversation.
Myth: “Interfaith dialog is the answer.”
Too often, interfaith dialog degenerates into an exchange of platitudes. But Allah, Liberty and Love gives you the permission to ask uncomfortable questions, which shows faith in our capacity to think. Questions also show respect: You’re honoring me when you refuse to infantilize me.
Ultimately, Allah, Liberty and Love will equip readers to develop “moral courage”—the willingness to speak up when everyone else wants to shut you up. This can be fun: At the end of the book, I publish my recipe for spiced chai tea as a delicious incentive to get together with friends, share these ideas and support each other in the journey of moral courage—a journey that, taken by enough of us, will transport Muslims and non-Muslims to a peace worth having.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Tzipi Livni
לבני: "מקורם של מבצעי תג מחיר בגרעין הקשה של ההתנחלויות"
למרות שבית המשפט שחרר
שניים מתושבי יצהר שנעצרו על ידי המשטרה סביב אירועי תג מחיר והסתה, שרת
המשפטים לבני אמרה בראיון לגלי צה"ל כי "המתנחלים רוצים למנוע מאתנו לחיות
בצורה סבירה. הם לא מקבלים את מרות החוק"
תמר ירושלמי
בית משפט השלום בנצרת האריך אתמול (חמישי) בשבעה ימים
את מעצרו של החשוד בביצוע פשעי השנאה ביקנעם. הוא המשיך להכחיש כל קשר
למעשים אך השופט התרשם מהתשתית הראייתית שהציגה המשטרה והאריך את מעצרו.
בירושלים, לעומת זאת, לא התרשם בית המשפט מהראיות שהציגה המשטרה והוחלט לשחרר את עמיחי מתוקי, תושב ההתנחלות יצהר החשוד בהצתת דלת המסגד באום אל-פחם. הוא הציג אליבי ושוחרר. כמו כן, שלשום שוחררה למעצר בית אלירז פיין, גם היא תושבת יצהר, אשר תמכה בתכתובת פנימית בהריגת חיילי צה"ל.
השחרורים של תושבי יצהר הם מכה למאמצי המשטרה, אך במערכת האכיפה ממשיכים להביע נחישות למגר את תופעת תג המחיר. בדיון חירום שנערך שלשום במשרד המשפטים הביעו כל הגורמים, השרים ציפי לבני ויצחק אהרונוביץ', היועץ המשפטי לממשלה, פרקליט המדינה וכן נציגים של השב"כ, המשטרה וצה"ל מחויבות למיגור פשעי השנאה הללו.
בתום הדיון הודיעו שרת המשפטים לבני והשר לביטחון הפנים אהרונוביץ' שיפנו לקבינט בבקשה להגדיר את פעולות תג המחיר כארגון טרור, ולא כהתאחדות בלתי מותרת. זה מהלך שכבר ניסו לקדם בשנה שעברה והוא סוכל על ידי ראש הממשלה בנימין נתניהו.
הייעוץ המשפטי לא התנגד למהלך בזמנו וגם בישיבה שלשום הם אמרו שאין הבדל ממשי מבחינת סל הכלים שאפשר להשתמש בהם בין שתי ההגדרות. עם זאת נראה שהתעקשותם של לבני ואהרונוביץ' על השינוי הסמנטי יוכל ליצור גם שינוי מבחינה תודעתית.
בנוסף הגורמים הבכירים בישיבה החליטו לבחון העמקה של המעורבות של הפרקליטות בתיקים נגד מבצעי "תג מחיר" ולהרחיב את השימוש בכלים מנהליים.
בראיון לתכניתנו "בוקר טוב ישראל" עם ספי עובדיה התייחסה השרה ציפי לבני לפעולות המכונות "תג מחיר" ואמרה כי "מדובר בקבוצה אידאולוגית קשה שמרכזה בהתנחלויות מסוימות ביהודה ושומרון שלא מקבלת עליה שום מרות". עוד אמרה לבני כי "הם רוצים למנוע מאתנו לחיות פה בצורה סבירה, ומתנגדים לערכים של מדינת ישאל שאנחנו מאמינים בהם. גם פוליטית - הם אלו שימנעו מאתנו הסדר".
בירושלים, לעומת זאת, לא התרשם בית המשפט מהראיות שהציגה המשטרה והוחלט לשחרר את עמיחי מתוקי, תושב ההתנחלות יצהר החשוד בהצתת דלת המסגד באום אל-פחם. הוא הציג אליבי ושוחרר. כמו כן, שלשום שוחררה למעצר בית אלירז פיין, גם היא תושבת יצהר, אשר תמכה בתכתובת פנימית בהריגת חיילי צה"ל.
השחרורים של תושבי יצהר הם מכה למאמצי המשטרה, אך במערכת האכיפה ממשיכים להביע נחישות למגר את תופעת תג המחיר. בדיון חירום שנערך שלשום במשרד המשפטים הביעו כל הגורמים, השרים ציפי לבני ויצחק אהרונוביץ', היועץ המשפטי לממשלה, פרקליט המדינה וכן נציגים של השב"כ, המשטרה וצה"ל מחויבות למיגור פשעי השנאה הללו.
בתום הדיון הודיעו שרת המשפטים לבני והשר לביטחון הפנים אהרונוביץ' שיפנו לקבינט בבקשה להגדיר את פעולות תג המחיר כארגון טרור, ולא כהתאחדות בלתי מותרת. זה מהלך שכבר ניסו לקדם בשנה שעברה והוא סוכל על ידי ראש הממשלה בנימין נתניהו.
הייעוץ המשפטי לא התנגד למהלך בזמנו וגם בישיבה שלשום הם אמרו שאין הבדל ממשי מבחינת סל הכלים שאפשר להשתמש בהם בין שתי ההגדרות. עם זאת נראה שהתעקשותם של לבני ואהרונוביץ' על השינוי הסמנטי יוכל ליצור גם שינוי מבחינה תודעתית.
בנוסף הגורמים הבכירים בישיבה החליטו לבחון העמקה של המעורבות של הפרקליטות בתיקים נגד מבצעי "תג מחיר" ולהרחיב את השימוש בכלים מנהליים.
בראיון לתכניתנו "בוקר טוב ישראל" עם ספי עובדיה התייחסה השרה ציפי לבני לפעולות המכונות "תג מחיר" ואמרה כי "מדובר בקבוצה אידאולוגית קשה שמרכזה בהתנחלויות מסוימות ביהודה ושומרון שלא מקבלת עליה שום מרות". עוד אמרה לבני כי "הם רוצים למנוע מאתנו לחיות פה בצורה סבירה, ומתנגדים לערכים של מדינת ישאל שאנחנו מאמינים בהם. גם פוליטית - הם אלו שימנעו מאתנו הסדר".
09/05/14
Interview: Tzipi Livni
Ziv Koren / Polaris
Israel's Foreign Minister and Kadima Party leader Tzipi Livni.
As President Obama and Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu spar over a plan for the Middle East, Israel’s opposition leader talks about her country’s future and her own.
Are you worried about tension between the Israeli government and President Obama?
The last thing that Israel needs is to be part of the internal agenda in the United States between Republicans and Democrats. The relations with Israel should be bipartisan, and I hope that this is how it will be in the future.
Has the marriage of rivals Fatah and Hamas affected your faith in negotiations with the Palestinians?
It’s not a marriage yet. It’s only an engagement. The government has not been established yet. It was bad news, this agreement. But I think we need to ask ourselves, how can we work with those who hopefully are willing to end the conflict with us?
What do you make of the Palestinian plan to seek a unilateral declaration of statehood from the U.N. in September?
I believe that the goal is to achieve peace and to end the conflict, and I don’t think that September is going to help in achieving peace. The real question is not who is right and who is wrong but, can we create a different trend? At the end of the day, the United Nations is not going to establish a state. It’s going to make a declaration. Even after September, something will need to be done in order to establish a state.
Is the Arab Spring good for Israel?
It depends whether it’s spring or autumn, whether we are going to face summer or winter. There are two different possibilities. The best-case scenario is that these young people that took to the streets looking for their rights are going to change their own states, and we are going to see more democracy. This can help us to make peace not only with leaders but also between peoples. But the other [possibility] is that extremists will take over and abuse the democratic system in order to spread an agenda which is completely antidemocratic.
You were a spy in Paris in your early 20s, yes?
I worked in the Mossad for a few years.
Will you write about it someday in your memoirs?
After I retire, I have my own vision, which is not connected to the state of Israel. It’s about me, living near the sea, and maybe writing something about the past. Now I need to write for the future.
Financial Times FT.com
Tzipi Livni talks to Simon Schama April 2011
By Simon Schama
Published: April 15 2011 22:01 | Last updated: April 15 2011 22:01
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| ‘I don’t do interim’: Tzipi Livni in her office in the Israeli parliament, Jerusalem |
The party Tzipi Livni leads calls itself Kadima – Forward – a name which turns a military order into an exhortation to break with dead-end truisms; a march to the future. No one could accuse its first leader, Ariel Sharon, the epitome of military ferocity, or its third, Livni, the ex-Mossad agent, of being soft touches. But she wants to redefine bravery as more than reflex military impulse; rather as the co-existence of Palestine and Israel: “two states for two peoples”.
“Time is not on our side” is one of the refrains of her conversation. The possibility that the United Nations General Assembly will independently recognise a Palestinian state in September has given the need for movement on the negotiation front a burst of urgency. It is beginning to sink in that Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s default mode of standing pat could confront Israel with unpalatable alternatives: either the acceptance of imposed borders, or the drastic consequences of refusing to recognise the frontiers of a sovereign fellow member of the UN.
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| The Zionist Revisionist Ze’ev Jabotinsky |
Their difference has the unforgiving sharpness of a family feud, but the family in question is ideological. Both “Bibi” Netanyahu and Livni come from the same political cradle: the Revisionist party founded by the charismatic orator and writer Ze’ev Jabotinsky in the 1920s out of disgust with what he thought was mainstream Zionism’s cowardly pragmatism; its refusal to embrace a sovereign Jewish state – on both sides of the Jordan – as the unequivocal goal of the movement. Bibi’s father, Benzion Netanyahu, a distinguished historian of the fate of Jews under the Spanish Inquisition, who celebrated his 101st birthday last month, was Jabotinsky’s secretary, a pedigree that gives the Netanyahus an almost dynastic claim to the succession of hardline Zionism.
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| Irgun commander Menachem Begin |
Livni points to another hard man of the right – Sharon, who was prepared to uproot settlers from Gaza – as an additional precedent for the courage of changed minds; Revisionism revised. If the ultimate goal is the simultaneous preservation of Israel as a Jewish state and a democracy, then the Land will have to be divided. Otherwise demography will destroy democracy.
She knows this is a hard sell, especially in light of a recent upsurge in atrocious violence. This month, an anti-tank missile launched from Gaza fell on an Israeli school bus. The subsequent counter-strike killed several Palestinian civilians. In March, Livni went to the shiva mourning at the West Bank settlement of Itamar for the Fogel family, whose slaughtered included small children, the youngest three months old, throats cut as they slept in their beds. “Though the settlers have very different views, I had to go, to express my grief and that of the nation,” she says.
The bereaved told her that at such a time she and her party should unite with the government. She tried to explain that murder only deepened her conviction that there could be no papering over the profound differences between which policies would deliver true security.
. . .
Almost the first thing the smiling Livni asks me as she comes into her modest office is whether I’d seen the framed document on the wall. I had been too busy looking at the photographs of her handsome, hawk-faced father and her mother, Sarah, to pay the letter much attention. But now I saw it was dated 1929 and was from Jabotinsky himself. My ragged Hebrew made out the word “nashim” – women – but not a lot more. Livni smiles again. “He’s writing to the town council to say he wouldn’t be paying any more taxes until women were hired.” “Was he true to his word?” I ask. “I bet!” she laughs.
Tough women are Israel’s history. Golda Meir, whose successor as prime minister Livni hopes to be, existed on a diet of cigarettes and six-inch nails for breakfast and made veteran generals look limp-wristed in comparison. Sarah Livni (née Rosenberg) with her thick knot of swept-up hair, wide, dark eyes and a delicate button nose, is drop-dead beautiful. I say so, and the daughter enjoys telling me about the firebrand’s vanity. “She lied about her age.” “How much?” I wonder. “A lot!” At Sarah’s shiva a few years ago, veteran comrades from the Irgun made sure to tell Livni that some people called the dead Sarah “the mother of the traitor”. “Did you find out what she said in reply?” I ask. “Yes, they told me that my mother said ‘she’s my daughter and my daughter is always right.’”
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| Livni’s parents, Sarah and Eitan, in 1949 |
In Israel, politics invariably comes back to families, solid and fractured, devastated and enduring. Tzipi Livni is no exception. “You know how my mother and father met? In a train robbery!” Women were recruited by the Irgun to join the heists so that they could stuff the loot inside their clothes and pass – so the folklore has it – for pregnant. Both Eitan and Sarah were subsequently arrested and imprisoned, but it took more than barbed wire to keep Livni’s mother cooped. Incarcerated, Sarah found someone to spike her milk with whatever it took to mimic the symptoms of appendicitis. Transferred to hospital, she jumped from the second-storey window of her ward to liberty. Livni would later meet someone who took her mother in while on the run, still in her hospital pyjamas. Songs were written about the exploits of the legendary “Sarah katon” – little Sarah. “Want to hear one?” asks Tzipi, switching on her iPod. On comes the marching song and massed chorus, over which the daughter translates the lyrics of sentimental martyrdom … “If they are going to hang me, don’t cry. This is my fate; instead of tears, take your gun close to your heart.”
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| Jerusalem’s King David Hotel, which was bombed in 1946 |
In any case, she says, the likes of her parents were less hypocritical in their daily dealings with Palestinian Arabs than the self-righteous Mapai party-affiliated left that dominated Israeli politics and governing institutions in the first three decades of Israel’s existence. Tzipi grew up in a Tel Aviv district where politically correct neighbours were disconcerted to see Arabs coming to tea with Eitan, who spoke their language. “As a kid, I led a double-life,” she says. It didn’t do to own up to a Herut family when all of her friends were Mapai. Betar, the youth movement inaugurated in Israel by Menachem Begin, had been notorious for kitting out its cadets in brown shirts, chosen to symbolise the soil of the Land of Israel but, as the Mapai-niks were quick to remind anyone, bearing a telling resemblance to the uniform of the Nazi SA stormtroopers. Baffled by being called a “brownshirt” at school, when she was wearing the revised uniform of blue (for the skies of Zion, naturally), Tzipi came home to ask her parents what this was all about, and got from them, she says, a strong sense of a marginalised minority. Occasionally, the young Tzipi made a stand. In observance of May Day – a socialist occasion which, to her parents’ indignation, had been turned into a national holiday, Israeli schools were shut. “I demonstrated against this.” “How?” I ask, hoping for some act of hellfire revolt. “By going to school!”
Tzipi would not stay so well-behaved, joining the Mossad at 22, just out of the army. Around the time she was with the Israeli intelligence agency, in the early 1980s, an atomic scientist working in Iraq showed up dead in Paris. Although she may have been nothing more than a safe-house manager, it’s not hard to imagine Tzipi glamorously dangerous. Since there’s no point trying to get anything out of her about the Mossad years we talk of more important things, none more so than the clandestine discussions with the Palestinian Authority leadership undertaken in 2007 and 2008 by Olmert and herself, details of which were leaked earlier this year by al-Jazeera.
. . .
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| Tzipi Livni, then Israeli foreign minister, with Mahmoud Abbas at a 2008 peace conference in Sharm el Sheikh |
The breakthrough at Sharm el Sheikh with Mahmoud Abbas and Salam Fayyad was one of psychological temper. Livni insists, refreshingly, that peace, or even the cessation of mutual mutilations, cannot turn on a choice of competing narratives; that the endless competition of unspeakable calamities, such as the Holocaust and Nakba, was a ball and chain that would hobble the lives of children yet to be born. Enough already!
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| Livni conducts a press conference with Hillary Clinton in 2009 |
She gives me an example of the difference this made on one notoriously thorny issue: the demilitarization of Palestine. To ask as much was, initially, an outrage to the Palestinian leaders, who retorted they would never accept being a “minus state”. “At that point we could just have given up, and left the room, but we didn’t. We talked history. ‘Look,’ I said, ‘has Germany been an impotent “minus state” for limiting its army and armaments? Has Egypt been disadvantaged by a demilitarized Sinai?’” And so they hashed out those lists. The same concrete approach went for territorial exchanges. What seemed irreconcilable changed when representatives from both sides went to walk the line, to physically look at villages, olive groves, roads.
You get the feeling Livni thinks this kind of bargaining can make headway on all the issues that conventional wisdom has for so long decreed to be unresolvable. And that while men like to thump the table and shout grievances, women get on with the mundane practical matters in hand that constitute the realities of daily life. So she thinks about what those realities might be like for Palestinians as well as Israelis. “It’s not in our interest that Palestine should be a failed state.” Or, she adds, “an extremist state”. That, she explains, is the true conflict at the heart of the Middle East, one even bigger than the enmity of Jew and Arab: the genuinely irreconcilable clash between theocratic and autocratic regimes, and liberal democracies. Right now, and for a little time perhaps, an Israeli party of reason might be able to make the peace with its Palestinian counterpart. Evidently there has been something like a meeting of minds across the “security fence”. But not forever. No one knows which side – Islamic militancy or democratic secularism – will emerge from the Arab spring. But that uncertainty only makes the need for an early settlement more, not less, pressing.
Not least because Israel, too, has a domestic cultural conflict on its hands that is undoing assumptions about what kind of Jewishness the Jewish state is supposed to embody. Between the Jerusalem ultra-orthodox Haredim, for whom the only true Jewish state is one based on rigid obedience to halacha, the precepts of the religion, and those whose Israel is pluralist and secular, there is as wide a gulf as between the Muslim Brotherhood and the Tweeters of Tahrir Square. The two crises – of the outer borders of the Jewish state and its inner identity – Livni sees as organically connected. It says something about her forthrightness as well as her optimism that Livni wants a written Israeli constitution that would make a clear demarcation between synagogue and state.
But then she is a great believer in the strength of principle, championing an international code of practice to govern elections in newly born democracies. Recalling that in Israel the expulsionist Kach party was disbarred from participating in elections, she wants the same principle to apply to parties in Muslim countries that use democratic means to overthrow democracy. Hitler, she remembers, came to power through the ballot box. “This would not be patronising or imperialist,” she says. “They can all do what they like. But if they want to participate in an international community they should abide by those conventions.”It’s this kind of reflectiveness that makes one feel Livni is a mould-breaker, even though when you say this around Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, you are met with sceptical chuckles. But perhaps it’s the worldly straightforwardness of Tzipi Livni’s emotions that might make it possible for her to translate political heresies into a working version of what the majority of Israelis crave, the shalom, the salaam that is the first thing out of the mouths of Jews and Arabs alike. Don’t tell me gender has nothing to do with this; the difference between Netanyahu’s reverence for his father and his famous hero-brother Yonatan, killed in the 1976 Entebbe raid, and Livni’s life as a Mossad agent become mother. A few weeks ago, she went to see her younger son, Yuval, graduate as an officer in an elite combat unit of the army. To make the moment more intense he had signed on for a four-and-half-year service rather than the mandatory three. Talking about this, her face softens and she reaches into her wallet to show me a photo of handsome Yuval and his curly-haired elder sibling Omri. The ceremony was in the Negev desert but it was a chill winter day. “Of course I was conflicted. I was so proud of him but my heart was in terrible pain so I added my tears to the rain.”
There’s nothing trite about this. What Livni wants for herself, for Yuval, for Israel, she wants so that the tears, as well as the blood, might finally have some chance of stopping.
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