Author: jednovick

The summer of 2018. It’s the hottest summer since before the dawn of time. Football thought about coming home, but had a look at the state England was in and thought better of it. (That’s someone else’s gag, but we live in a sharing society).​

The Tories are in disarray, biting lumps out of each other over Brexit, undermining Theresa May and maybe positioning themselves for a leadership battle. Anna Soubry has been on the radio saying that Jacob Rees-Mogg is actually running the country.  

Her Majesty’s Opposition, the Labour Party, is taking them apart, setting out its stall for a post-Brexit world, coming up with ideas for how we, as a country, can move forward. Except, it’s not. The Labour leadership is not doing any of those things. It’s actually lost in a strangely hermetically-sealed world where, instead of giving the lame Tories a kicking, the only important thing to do is to, again and again, prove they’re not obsessed by Jews by being obsessed by Jews and redefining antisemitism so that it’s not antisemitic to be antisemitic.

How did the Labour Party – the party of my family, my father, my people – become such a hideous hotbed of hatred? How did it become the place where the really important thing is “redefining antisemitism” and a place where racists feel safe?  

My idea of Judaism had always been somewhere between Phil Silvers and Woody Allen (the early, funny ones), a cultural badge born out of humour and smoked salmon. Throw in a bit of Philip Roth – in my teens, I used to suffer terribly from Portnoy’s complaint – and… you get the idea.

But now I’m a political Jew. Up for the argument. Somewhere along the line, something switched. There was a point, and I’m not sure where it was, where I had my Howard Beale moment. “I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take it anymore”. Anyone makes a lazy assertion or assumption, and I’m there. “What do you mean by that? How can you say that?” I’m a keyboard warrior. Ready to take on anyone, especially during work time. 

There are cleverer people than me on social media – they all seem to be called David something, I’m not sure why – who’ve published books and academic tomes, and that’s great. I’m not going to pretend to be an expert on Middle East history and politics, largely because I’m not. I’m not going to pretend to be an expert on the Labour Party and the history of left wing politics, again largely because I’m not.  

This is much more a personal discovery thing. Why did I switch? Why did I go from someone whose last engagement with Judaism was my barmitzvah to someone who gets really angry? What made me suddenly notice that with so many people – especially “my” people, the liberal Left – just a little scratch and there it is, Jew-hatred. And it really is there.  

I’m going to be 60 in September. (I know. Don’t even ask). I’ve started writing a book – “The Whole Mechula is Gescheft” which is brilliant and at current rate of writing will be finished at around the same time Charlton Heston discovers the Statue of Liberty on The Planet Of The Apes.

In the meantime, it’s time to do something else. I’m going to go to Israel, see what it’s really like. How can I defend the place as I do when the last time I was there was when I was 17? 

Instinctively, I know a few things about Israel – and this isn’t about government policy or politics. The first is I’ll defend it. The second is anyone who attacks it, I’m instinctively suspicious of. Just thought I’d say.  

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So I’ve been talking for how many months about traveling across the States by train and how I love traveling by train and how train travel is the future and… and today is a train day. The first train day, going from Atlanta to New Orleans. On the train at 8.38am, off the train at 7.35pm. A long day on the train.

It feels a bit odd. It feels a bit of pressure, the same pressure I felt before I started this trip. Would it be interesting? Would it fulfil whatever ideas I had about it? Or would it just be long and a bit boring?

Well, it’s now 1.12pm and I’m guessing the answer is, unsurprisingly, “all of the above”. The train people (all black) are unerringly polite and sweet and chatty and smiley. The passengers (mostly all black) are mostly asleep or plugged into screens with headphones. I guess that’s the big difference compared to when I. last did a big train travel (the Trans-Siberian in 1990). Then there were no phones, no laptops, no screens. There were Walkmen and there were books, but neither of those lock you in to your own world like screens and headphones do.

We’ve just crossed the Black Warrior River – who even knew. It’s huge. I mean vast. But look on the map and it looks like the River Lea.

All that planning. It made much more sense to go somewhere, hang out, stay till it feels right to leave and then leave. Don’t make plans. Don’t be tied to a schedule. The whole point of being by yourself is to be selfish about the “What do I fancy doing today?” thing. And what a fantastic indulgence / opportunity for someone like me to have. I might be an empty nester, but it’s not that empty. And blimmin hurrah for that.   

The next stop was Atlanta, Georgia and that’s as different as different can be on every level. Apart from the places, New York was with Greg – young, free and living in a one bed urban apartment, Atlanta was Josh, married with an eight year old daughter and dog, living in a detached house in the wide open spaces of the Atlanta suburb of Marietta. In New York, you want a bagel you walk to the bagel shop. In Atlanta you want a bagel, you get in the car. (You still get the bagel with lox – it’s not that different down South).

Again, a very lucky bunny, courtesy of extraordinary hospitality and warmth. Michael, the Uber guy, was – as it said on the Uber app – a “great conversationalist”, which meant we spent the 30 mins ride to Josh’s house talking about Trump (not a fan), racism (still exists because it exists everywhere, but no worse here than anywhere else), chickens…

“There are three huge, and I mean huge, chicken factories here. We like chicken down here”

“Georgia’s not a good place to be a chicken”

“No, it is not”

and Trump.

Michael told me why he didn’t like Trump.

Me: “Michael – where I come from, that’s called socialism”

Michael: “……..”

Not entirely sure it’s cool to call yourself socialist here.

Michael said that Josh’s place was very central, easy to get everywhere. And, for Atlanta, it is. But that just says that Atlanta’s a sprawl, which makes complete sense. There’s space to sprawl here. The roads are wide, the houses (in the suburbs) all have big front gardens, they’re all detached. It looks very clean and very straight. There’s no litter, no graffiti, no dirt – and it looks very familiar from a thousand American films and TV shows. Most of the American films I’m thinking of have been made by John Carpenter, but…. I like John Carpenter.

In by now the great tradition, Josh took me to the baseball and it was great to go to the game cos that’s another ‘first’ ticked off the list, but… I’m not sure about baseball. Bloke throws the ball, bloke tries to hit it. Mostly the bloke who’s trying to hit it misses, but sometimes he doesn’t. Baseball. I don’t know. I suppose they’d say that foo… soccer was blokes running around kicking a ball. There’s a lot of hanging around and the action is much shorter but the whole game is much longer. On the plus side, the clothes are much better in baseball, the shirts much more stylish. (You can tell I used to be a sports journalist and now teach sports journalism).

One thing that was evident is that this is a consumption culture. The cars are big. They’re still those big, chunky SUV things, more often than not with a pick up shape. Big, bull-nosed things.  We spoke lots and hybrids are becoming a thing, but you look around here and still people love their cars.

Josh, being one of the Brothers, drove a Volvo.

And this might be unfair to say, because we’re at the ball game, but they eat. Big food, big hot food. And no one’s too fussed abut single use plastic. But, like I say, it’s probably unfair to say, because we’re at the ball game. If you went to a foo… soccer game at home, it’s probably not a whole lot different. The food would probably be worse, the portions smaller, but the ideas the same.

I had a bar-be-que pulled chicken sandwich with jalapenos and bar-be-que sauce. Like the weather, it was hot. And talking of the weather, it’s hot. Yesterday was 100 degrees and, like the sandwich, that’s hot. Everything’s hot here. After the game we went home and did the family thing which, again, was a lovely contrast. Bouncy daughter, bouncier dog – Oliver’s a sweetie, very bouncy, very licky, very sweet – and we watched the quite astonishing Nadal v Medvedev match, an extraordinary contest, five sets, five hours and eventually, of course, Nadal won. 

Josh took the next day off and we played tourist. Went to the Martin Luther King Center (after, of course, a bagel stop) which is so peaceful and calm, everywhere you look there’s reminders of his gentle wisdom and in the age of Trump, Johnson, Corbyn, Brexit and all that it’s impossible not to be simultaneously impressed by how we can be and depressed by how we are. Who was it who said we get the politicians we deserve? Everyone probably.

We melted back into the car and drove through Cabbagetown, a newly gentrified part of inner city town, all arts graffiti and cafes. Everywhere’s the same. People move to the suburbs, the inner city gets neglected, the arts people go back to the inner city cos it’s cheap, it becomes all hipster and the locals get squeezed. Cabbagetown and Hackney Wick and all points in between.

Little Five Points looked like it had always been cool. A little bit hippie, a little bit biker chic. Vintage clothes, vegan cafes, live music venues, record shops and more places to get your chakras balanced than you could throw your CBD oil at. I liked it.

But it didn’t pay to walk around because it was hot.

 

 

“Standby for action. We are about to launch… Stingray. Anything can happen in the next half hour”

How many times do you get an opportunity like this? The time – and thank you to my employers for that – the money, which came through two unexpected PPI repayments. Yeah, I know. PPI repayments. After years of it being a standing joke, this year’s Nigerian prince scam, it came good. Two grand out of nowhere. It didn’t belong to the family, it didn’t take any resources out of the family coffers, it didn’t mean anyone lost out. Money out of nowhere. Free money. Then there’s My Fine Wife, without whose blessing this wouldn’t have worked. And yes, I know there’s all the “Of course she should be like that” and I know that if the roles were reversed I wouldn’t think twice, but it’s still rare. There are – I know – not that many couples who’d give this particular green light.

Maybe that why there’s a curious sense of pressure. Will it be good enough? Will I have a good enough time? Will it be interesting enough? Will I meet enough interesting people? Will I meet any people? Will I come back with enough stories?

It sounds mad but after all the chat, all the rabbit, all the talk about how brave I am… what if it turns out to be nothing? A nice little break in the sun.

Then there’s all the “Well, what are you going to find out?” The chances are I’ll find out Israel is hot. Maybe that’s as sophisticated as the analysis will get. “I went to Israel on a voyage of discovery and found out that it’s hot”. Well, thank you for that, Dr Livingstone.

What if I land and have that moment? That feeling of “I’m home! This is my place!” and I sign up.

What if I find out that they’re right, that I’m wrong, that Israel is a racist endeavour.

Going to Corfu was easier.

I grew up in east London, in a working class Labour family. The Daily Mirror was the family newspaper. The family fought in Cable Street. So why now do I fear The Labour Party?
Why do I bristle when I hear reports about Israel? Why do I get angry about bias in the media? Why do I spend hours – OK, days, maybe weeks – arguing on social media?

In the last few years – well, let’s take a step back. Let’s be precise here. Since September 12, 2015, it seems that the climate has changed. Jew has become a subject. Antisemitism has become a subject. Switch on the radio, and invariably there’s something about antisemitism. Look at social media, it’s swimming in stuff about antisemitism. Drowning in opinion. Antisemitism and Israel. Everyone’s got an opinion about Israel. Everyone’s got an opinion, everyone knows and everyone cares. Everyone really cares about Israel and Palestine. They really care about Palestine. They’ve never been further from home than the local Waitrose, but they knew all about Palestine.

September 12, 2015 was when Jeremy Corbyn replaced Ed Miliband as leader of the Labour Party. But nothing comes out of nowhere and when it all changed was during the Gaza conflict in the summer of 2014. Maybe I just hadn’t noticed before, but it seemed that suddenly in my world Gaza was everywhere. You couldn’t switch on the radio, the telly. You couldn’t log on. It was everywhere. It felt… it felt like a bombardment. It felt like an ambush. Lines were being drawn.

Friendships were lost, and I’m not just talking Facebook friends being unfollowed. It got really horrible. And the more horrible it got, the more Jewish I got.

So I’m back in England, it’s grey and drizzly. I’ve been back a few days and so far Lou has left for a new life in Falmouth, I’ve been trying to catch up on the work stuff – just the 4535 e-mails I’ve missed by going away, and I’ve got to arrange a funeral for a cousin I was looking after. Real life. It all feels a long way from the late night heat of Dizengoff Square.

Still. I wanted to do something special for my 60th and that’s that box ticked. But, a lovely time aside, did going to Israel change the way I think about things? Was it, as My Fine Wife asked, still so black and white?

That’s more a book proposal than a question but, in short, yes.

Firstly, I’ve got to say that my interest is much more in the response of the Left in the UK than in the geo-politics of the Middle East – largely because I am woefully under-qualified to speak meaningfully about that.

I have no depth of understanding and the situation is, almost inevitably, much more complicated and nuanced than anyone here knows.

Seems that the old joke – two Jews, three opinions – applies to Palestinians too.

The Palestinian position is more complicated than I realised. While the notion of “the Palestinian land” is flawed because there wasn’t ever really “a Palestinian land” in the simplistic way that people here talk about it, the reality is that loads of people were, post 1948, dispossessed and did lose their homes. I can’t imagine what that’s like. Homes, communities, lost. Your surroundings, your life, everything that’s familiar… gone. And to what? To where?

That the Palestinian’s were used as collateral damage in the post-war period is tragic and criminal. Were they swept aside by the international community caught up in the collective post-war guilt about what had happened in Germany and beyond? Possibly. But remember that “the Jews” had been in Israel long before that – and I’m not talking Biblical times.

Does the international community owe the Palestinians? Absolutely (in my view)

Is Israel solely to blame? No (in my view)

Is the current Israeli govt doing anything to help? No (in my view)

But – and saying this isn’t to absolve Israel or defend recent Israeli govts – what’s happened to the Palestinian people is as much the fault of the Palestinian Authority as anyone else. It’s been said that there’s never been a people so badly led as the Palestinians – and that seems true. What’s happened to the aid? What’s happened to the money? Millions, maybe billions, and the people haven’t seen a sniff of it.

Similarly, the surrounding Arab states don’t support or help the Palestinians. Everyone’s using them like footballs. But, again. To just blame Israel isn’t either logical – or indeed fair – and it isn’t going to be productive. It will just make the Israeli govt feel even more boxed in and protective. As it is, every country that surrounds it is dedicated to its destruction.

As the old joke has it “They want to kill us, we don’t want to be killed, and neither side is prepared to compromise”.

I don’t like Netanyahu’s govt, but then again, I’m struggling to think of a government I do like. I didn’t meet any Israelis who supported Netanyahu, but I live here, and I’ve never met anyone who supports Theresa May (let alone Rees-Mogg or Johnson).

After I came back, I wrote to my friend who lives in Efrat, telling him how lovely it was to see him and thanking him for his hospitality.

“To be honest, I’m still conflicted about it all and, in truth, about where you live”.

“As for you feeling conflicted” he replied “Welcome to the club. Most of us do, one way or another”.

Maybe in a land where there’s conflict, it stands to reason that everyone’s conflicted.

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

I’m still deeply suspicious of the Left here. Too many people have a curious obsession with just Israel.

You can look around the world and make an argument that this country is bad or that country is bad, and there are certainly enough countries – in the Middle East alone – that treat people badly, abuse human rights etc. But to only talk about Israel which, having been there, I would happily argue isn’t even in the Top Ten Bad Countries, is just silly and, yes, racist. There are internment camps in Chechnya for gays – anyone want to talk about that?

It’s the same as that picture taken at the TUC conference in Manchester where all the delegates are holding Palestinian flags.

Leaving aside the question of “Really? The TUC conference is talking about Palestine?” Something like this, it’s orchestrated – you think they all turned up with flags, turned to their neighbour and “Blimey, you too, huh?” – and odds on, most of these people wouldn’t know their Abbas from their elbow but still, you’ve got to ask “Why only Palestine? Why aren’t they talking about Tibet, South Sudan, Kurdistan and on and on?”

What is it about Israel that so energises people? It’s great that they’re concerned about human rights, justice, human dignity and suffering, but why are they only concerned about Israel? You can look around the world and make an argument that this country is bad or that country is bad, and there are certainly enough countries – in the Middle East alone – that treat people badly, abuse human rights etc. But to talk about Israel and only Israel which, having been there, I would happily argue isn’t even in the Top Ten Bad Countries, is wrong and, yes, racist.

And it all comes back to the Labour Party. Whichever way you look at it, it must appear odd that Labour is so concerned about Israel. This whole summer they should have been being an Opposition, should have been talking about Brexit. But all they did was discuss antisemitism. Seamus Milne, Corbyn’s chief advisor, said that the antisemitism issue would be “the hill I die on”. Not the NHS. Not care for the elderly. Not public utilities. Redefining antisemitism.

I’ve got a friend – he’s Jewish – who is very anti-Israel because he thinks that it makes Jews look bad, and that feeds into the insecurities and paranoias of the immigrant, those immigrants who want to assimilate, who want to not cause waves and not be noticed. “Leave us alone, we don’t take up much space and we don’t make a fuss”.

It comes down to a fear of being kicked out again, and while I don’t agree with it, I understand it.

What I don’t understand is why the far Left – a section of society that’s supposed to be dedicated to helping people and of being on the side of the underdog – clearly and really doesn’t like Jews.

Corbyn, through his actions, associations and allegiances, has allowed the Labour Party to become the waterhole, the place where the various anti-Israel / BDS / racists meet. And it’s the waterhole because he’s shown that Labour is a safe house for those people.

Every day, seemingly, there’s another example of Labour’s obsession. Today (Sept 24) is Day One of the Labour Party conference and a ballot was taken by the CLP of the most important things to debate:

There are 40,000 more votes for Palestine than Brexit.
There are 67,000 more votes for Palestine than the NHS
There are nearly 100,000 more votes for Palestine than the welfare system.

There are nearly 115,000 more votes for Palestine than climate change

This is the Labour Party. They need to have a word with themselves.

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

Our society has a curious relationship with Jews. Mostly it goes like this. Your immediate circle doesn’t care. You’re just you. Wider society mostly likes Jews – the humour, the wit, the warmth. But historically – and this is a contradiction but it’s seemingly undeniable – countries don’t like Jews.

This period – post WW2 – is just about the longest period we haven’t been kicked out of some country or other. Historically, the Jews in any country will be kicked out. As unlikely as it seems, as ridiculous as it sounds to me with my English rose wife, two perfect kids, house in the country, Audi convertible… it always happens.

The only people who say things like “That could never happen here” or “But we’re not like that here” are not Jews.

Those people, those NotJews – and it doesn’t how close they are or how sympathetic they are – will never understand the fear. In the same why that, however sympathetic, I’ll never really be able to know what it’s like to be black, I’ll never know what it’s like to be a woman.

And that’s why Jews – even Jews who don’t know why they’re Jews but just know that they are – will never feel 1000% secure. That’s why there’s that “always sleep with a suitcase under the bed” line on the front page of this blog.

So if the real question is “Do I still stand by Israel?” then the answer is unequivocally “Yes”. If the question is “Will I still stand up and support Israel?” then, again, “Yes”. Do I support the existence of a Jewish state? Absolutely, because simply the existence of these questions makes it clear that we need an Israel. And until I can unpack that suitcase, we always will.

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

I’d like to go back. I don’t think I could live there – I’m culturally too English, I’d miss the gigs, the cinema, that sort of stuff – but I’d like to go back. Anyone fancy it?

The last day. It’s been a bit of a ride, but there was only one place to go on the last day.

Yad Vashem is an extraordinary place. It doesn’t matter how many people are there, it feels empty and silent.

Actually, that’s not strictly true. I was in the main hall when a small group of kids burst through, all noisy laughter and not taking it bloody seriously. I got really pissed off with them and it was only the English reserve that stopped me from telling them what I thought. But just as I was getting properly grumpy, there was a big display of some godforsaken kids in some godforsaken camp and I suddenly I flipped to thinking how refreshing it was to hear kid’s laughter, to see kids doing what kids should be doing.

Architecturally, it’s striking. You walk through the darkness and literally into the light and, while you might think that you’ve seen the pictures before, it still makes no sense.

What hit me was how quickly it happened. How quickly people turned from ordinary folk to absolute monsters. How they went from being a bloke who went to the shop to get a coffee and croissant to mass murderer capable of the absolutely unthinkable. I still have no idea and, frankly, I’m not sure I want to know.

It didn’t take long to go back to Jerusalem.

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

I’d got to know Jerusalem – well, the three roads round Ben Yehuda where I lived – reasonably well, so headed back to the jazz cafe I’d spent most of my time in.

There was a old Hareidi bloke sitting in the corner by a chess board and beckoned me over. I’d seen him play last night while the band were on, maybe he was still here.

Being Hareidi, there wasn’t much in the way of small talk, but he seemed nice enough, chain-smoking and pointing at the board to get a point across.

As the club filled, cool young things came and went, and we all chatted and laughed and listened to jazz. And we all lost to the old Hareidi bloke who, from 5 till about 11.30, didn’t move from his chair, smoked around 3,000 fags and didn’t seem to take much notice of who he was playing or the band, who were good and played a folky, gypsy-ish jazz.

And then it was time to go back to the hotel and pack up. A 5am start is no one’s friend.

Most of my life has been on the Left of the political spectrum. Like most people I know, I was always more devoted to talking about doing rather than doing. Ideas, I had. Lots of ideas. And they all came with a glass of something. Action, not so much. I was a member of the Labour Party for a while. I was a member of the Socialist Workers Party for a short while. And, as I tell my students now, I’ve worked on every national newspaper except The Sun and The Daily Mail.

The liberal left. That’s me. Worked in the media then in academia. Lived in north London then in Brighton. Cut me and I bleed sourdough.

But in recent times it’s seemed that the climate has changed. And it feels like a cold wind is blowing.

Last week I got kinda grumpy. And I’m not a grumpy person. I’m a happy person. Glass half full? Half empty? I’m happy to have a glass. So anyway, last Monday (July 16) I turned on the radio, the Today Programme, and there was a report about fighting in Gaza. John Humphrys introduced the piece “Two Palestinian teenagers were killed in an attack by Israel on Gaza. They were pupils at a school run by the United Nations Relief Agency”.

Humphrys introduced Chris Gunness from the UN Relief Agency. He spoke with an emotional urgency, voice quivering. “There was an Israeli air strike on a popular gathering place in Gaza City, a park where many families go, two children were killed… Imagine a foreign power using massive air power on a building in central London and two British children are killed… There should be international outrage and condemnation”.

There wasn’t a discussion about why what had happened had happened. There wasn’t any talk about what had inspired the Israelis to do the terrible things they’d undoubtedly and unquestionably done. No dispute that there should be international outrage and condemnation.

To the casual listener – and most listeners of the Today Programme are casual, listening with one ear as they’re getting up, getting dressed, getting the kids ready, getting ready for work – it sounded extraordinary. The might of the Israeli army bombarding people living in tents, dropping high grade bombs, killing children.

The next day – on the radio again – and there was a report about the Labour Party and a new definition of antisemitism. Seems that Labour had come up with a new way to define antisemitism and the Jews didn’t like it. Seems that 68 rabbis had written a letter to The Guardian to complain.

There wasn’t any discussion about why there needed to be a definition of anti-Jewish racism. There wasn’t any discussion about why the Labour Party had decided that the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance’s definition, a definition that had been adopted worldwide, was not good enough. No one said “Can you imagine a situation where the Labour Party were to tell Black people what was and what wasn’t racism?”

No one said “Can you imagine a situation where the Labour Party were to tell women what was and what wasn’t sexism?”

To the casual listener, it sounded… Jews again. Jews complaining again.

Two days but it could have been any two days. Israel doing terrible things. Jews complaining. And the two things are seemingly inter-linked.

Doesn’t matter that I’m from east London. Doesn’t matter that my ancestral roots are in eastern Europe. Doesn’t matter that I last went to Israel when I was 17. It seems that, in the world’s eyes – in your eyes – I am linked to Israel. And Israel is linked to me.

What I can’t quite work out is… why. Has the climate changed or have I? What would the 18-year-old me make of Corbyn? What would the 18-year-old me make of the Today Programme?

I used to argue that the IRA were right. In 1981, during one of the last great battles for the soul of the Labour Party, I was devastated (well, maybe not devastated, maybe more pissed off) that Denis Healey beat Tony Benn to the deputy leader post. Odds on, the 18-year-old me would be a Corbyn supporter – though he’d be far too cool to ever sing “Oh, Jeremy Corbyn…”

Now I think the 18-year-old me was a twat. In fairness though, for the 18-year-old me, supporting Corbyn wouldn’t have been in the “Top Ten Twattish Things” I was doing back then.