Since the emergence of the genre of detective fiction, the forefathers of the genre have turned it into a particularly sophisticated and effective means of conveying social criticism and presenting serious and weighty messages under the guise of apparently entertaining reading.

The inter-layered combination of a light detective puzzle and a poignant social portrait proved to be a winner: a suspenseful plot allowed the writers to go further to the truth, which their readers did not necessarily want to hear, and which would have been casually rejected if they had tried to tell it in a different way.

Dr. Shoki Friedman's first prose book, "We didn't love too much", (Yediot Books) is also faithful to this format. On the visible level, it is the story of the investigation into the murder of Abram, a Haifa merchant, a Holocaust survivor and an upright family man without enemies, which leads to the discovery of a conspiracy On deeper levels, befitting a vice president of the Jewish People's Policy Institute and a law professor at the Peres Academic Center, Friedman examines issues far removed from MZP matters, investigative methods or purely police issues, and echoes his actions in the novel.

How does a researcher and academic come to write a prose book?

"In my various positions, I wrote books, journalistic articles and research papers, composed meta works. Prose literature is of course different, but in a certain sense they are all storytelling frameworks. Even when you write an academic thesis, you first of all try to tell a story, to share an insight from reality or from the worlds you have studied. This was true even when I worked in the Prime Minister's office and was involved in the worlds of intelligence: the raw news in front of your eyes does not tell a story, and only the surgeon's special talent and contribution will turn it into a story. The ability to tell is an ultimate tool in life. Although I took the story behind 'We Didn't Like Too Much' in a completely different direction of my daily pursuits, but it still connects to everything I do and have done to this day."

The background of Abram, the victim of the murder, and of his small community, also connects to your personal background.

"The plot of the book is not biographical, and the characters are imaginary, but they are related to my life. I am a third generation Holocaust survivor, and even named after my great-grandfather who was murdered in Bergen-Belsen. Both of my grandmothers survived Auschwitz, and each of my grandfathers went through labor and torture camps difficult, after he lost his wife and children - something I discovered at a fairly old age. Like the novel's heroes, one of them immigrated to Haifa after the Holocaust. I grew up in the places where the book takes place, the houses I describe are a childhood landscape, and Abram's store is a real store that was in the market and belonged to my grandfather. As a child I ran in it among the sacks of dried fruit and lentils, I smelled the special smells that wafted from its walls. I also absorbed the atmosphere of the synagogue, where my grandfather prayed together with other Holocaust survivors, as a child, and to a large extent their small community is Abram's community."

other ultra-Orthodox

The similarities between the real Haifa of the 1950s and the drama unfolded in the novel do not end there.

Almost without realizing it, the readers are exposed to the variety of social and political tensions of the young Israel: the mosaic of ethnicities and origins, the beauty and problematic of the melting pot, the hegemony and coercion of the Pa'inic establishment, the frustration and ambition of the immigrants who recently came to the promised land, the hostility of the Arabs and coexistence with them. Historical fidelity is preserved especially in the description of the religious community of the Holocaust survivors, Agudat Israel workers of Hungarian origin, to which Avraham and his family belonged.

"My grandparents were ultra-Orthodox, but they were ultra-Orthodox," clarifies Friedman, who has dealt extensively with Jewish-state relations.

"Everybody in my grandfather's synagogue in Hadar HaCarmel in Haifa worked. Due to being immigrants and Holocaust survivors, they were somewhat detached. I have an ambivalent attitude towards my ultra-Orthodox brothers. On the one hand, I am their flesh, they are family in the most honest and literal sense. On the other hand, I Criticizing today's ultra-orthodox community in Israel, because I believe that if the way it conducts itself continues, it is not clear how we can maintain a prosperous state. Such a large and important group cannot exempt itself from carrying the economic and security burden, but also from a value point of view, we need a common Zionist base." .

"Living here is a miracle"

"We Didn't Love Me Too" is not a Holocaust book, yet the shadows of the great catastrophe that befell the people of Israel in the 20th century motivate the main characters in it and define reality.

Friedman recalled how during his time working in the Prime Minister's Office, he cooperated with a large German security body in the fight against terrorist organizations, and had the opportunity to go to Germany on Holocaust Remembrance Day.

He says that the day of the discussions between the parties began with a minute's silence in memory of the six million, and that he will never forget the excitement that gripped him at that moment.

"I don't live the Holocaust every day," admits Friedman, "but it is always present in our lives, and so is my life - in the sense of a responsibility to tell about what happened. In a deeper sense, this is reflected in the long years I dedicated to the country, to its security and to the struggle against the Iranians, against Terrorism, against anti-Semitism and the delegitimization of the Jewish state, and in recent years in my effort to contribute to the strengthening of our Jewish identity and cohesion. The memory of the Holocaust shows that we live here in a miracle, that is not self-evident. My grandparents' generation saw the worst of it all, came here by choice, and gave up A comfortable life somewhere in the US, he lived his whole life in transit and housing, built a life from nothing and built a country.

In my opinion, our generation has a great responsibility.

In order to continue to maintain the amazing Zionist enterprise, we must work."

While I'm talking to you, the headline says that a university lecturer has called the advocates of legal reform "fascists".

"Nothing can justify the use of such a nickname. I read an article in Haaretz, in which the author describes his impressions from a visit to the Knesset and at the end states: 'There will be no fratricidal war, because they are not my brothers.' When I criticized this statement on my blog, the reactions of my respondents Haaretz supported the author of the article. They repeated the same dangerous position: 'The religious are not our brothers, the settlers are not our brothers, the right-wing are not our brothers.'

"The research we carried out revealed a shocking figure: the use of the term 'fratricidal war' on Israeli Twitter registered an increase of 8,800 percent in one week! More and more people are getting used to the ease of uttering this terrible pair of words. There is a danger that speaking can degrade us, because words create reality. I don't think That tomorrow morning we will see barricades in the streets and battles between the right and the left, but my fear is that we will see violence here and there, and above all that the ability to function together will decrease, while the challenges will not disappear. Every citizen who writes on a social network, every broadcaster who broadcasts and every politician - must aim to prevent violence and civil unrest. We are one nation, and we are not abandoning this position."

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